The boy started to sob then and appeared ready to bolt. Kneeling, gripping his shoulders, Ramsay said softly, 'You are Prince Kajan, aren't you?' But even a foreigner was likely to recognize the name of royalty, and the king had only one son, a boy of about eight years. No noble's son would fear giving his name to a complete stranger-especially not one as glaringly foreign as Ramsay. Rather than give his name, the boy went from scared to terrified, and tears began to stream down his face in earnest.

What's your name? We'll see you home safe.' Ramsay rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. The boy nodded, looking guiltier and more miserable by the second. So likely taken for ransom, or wandered off on a lark and found himself in over his head. The clothes were high-quality linen, dyed expensive colors, and he wore a plain gold bracelet that plenty of people would certainly see as sufficient motivation for killing. Despite sweat and dirt and grime, the boy was clearly of noble breeding. The boy looked guilty and afraid but only shrugged and looked at his feet. Why is a boy of not more than ten summers out here all alone, being chased by dangerous men?' 'Y-y-yes,' the boy stuttered, visibly shaking and crying as he slowly stood up. 'Ho, there,' he called, taking care with his Tavamaran. Turning, he sought out the boy and found him hiding behind the well Ramsay had only just abandoned. He used his own sleeve to wipe the spatters of blood from his face.

Kneeling, he cleaned his sword on the robe of a dead man, then sheathed it.

He was still panting heavily when he finished. The men fought tenaciously, and if they had not been so strung out while chasing the boy, they might have stood a chance-six against one should have been an easy victory for them, but they were scattered and tired from running in the exhausting heat, and Ramsay had not lost his edge, despite his unexpected and extremely early retirement. Dropping the dipper from which he'd been drinking water at the well, he drew his own sword and ran forward with a roaring cry. Ramsay heard the cry for help a split second before he saw the boy coming in his direction at full speed, chased by half a dozen men with swords flashing in the hot, bright sunlight. At the time I wrote this, it just happened to be the story that came to me. The rest of the series will be posted in order.

Author's Note: Sequentially, this is the last story in the series.

Blood in the Water by Megan Derr