Children and Confrontation

Careful not to be seen, Wanderer hid themself as best they could behind a rocky protrusion, cautious that the children may take to their presence the same way every other human had, with hostility and caution.

The two kids, the largest of which would only reach the Golem’s waist, were using a number of empty jars to collect water in a part of the small brook that deepened suddenly, resulting in a small pool that was just deep enough to reach their thighs.

Despite the apparent opportunity to bathe, the children were still slathered with dirt, matting their hair and crusting their dark skin, only their sandalled feet, which were dipped in the waters when they went to collect from the pool, were clean.

After some time, the smaller of the two kids, a small boy no older than six, stopped their chore for a moment to wash their dirt-encrusted face in the stream.

The moment that he did, a shout echoed out from an unseen angle, a broad, light-skinned man stepping out from behind the shade of a particularly large imperfection in the rock, surprising the Vessel as they did so.

Wanderer quickly ducked behind their hiding place, making certain that Emio was hidden as well and began to listen in.

“larieag lete give rio pumerio to wash your face, Keraragio?”, The man shouted toward the smaller of the two children.

Somewhere in the Golem’s mind, they belatedly realised that they were slowly understanding more and more of the human language, words that before were unknown to them were becoming recognisable with only the barest effort to decipher them.

Yet they could not contemplate on their newfound understanding, their mind much too occupied with the events unfolding in front of them.

The Vessel risked sticking their head out of their hiding spot and were currently watching the man towering over the small child who reached hardly a third of their height.

Wanderer had seen this scene before, images of the slaves on the long road flashing through their mind and as they realised the situation, the grim rage they had come to dread began to rise.

The voice of their Spirit cut through the emotion like butter, reminding them of the promises they had made to themselves and encouraging them to stop and see how it all played out.

“But how can I just stop when a child might be harmed?” The Golem thought.

Wanderer had made a commitment to themself to stop other people from being harmed, and for a reason the Golem had not the time to decipher, this felt even more important for a child.

Yet their Spirit resisted the notion, insisting that staying and watching on would be the best option.

“ I made a commitment to protect other people, a commitment that you agreed with when I made it, why do you disagree now?” The Vessel argued, as their anger at the situation in front of them mingled with the confusion at the contradictory message of their Spirit.

A weak argument was sent through their bond, detailing some objection as to how the Golem intended to stop the man without harming or killing him, yet Wanderer could tell that their true objections lay elsewhere, as if the Spirit were trying to protect them from something.

They were snapped out of their reverie by the cruel sound of the large slave owner’s hand colliding with the older of the two children’s face, who had jumped in the path of the strike in the final moment as to protect their younger kin, sending them sprawling across the sandy ground.

Wanderer could not wait any longer, “I am going to help the children escape!” , the Vessel declared, caring little for how their Spirit replied.

Yet instead of a forced rebuke like the Golem expected, only feelings of grim acceptance and pity flowed through their bond.

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Yet Wanderer had no time guess at the meaning, already on route with Emio writhing on their shoulder, b-lining straight toward three shocked humans.

With blessing-enhanced speed, the Golem grappled the man with four sturdy arms, hardly allowing them time to struggle before trying their best to sign to the children to run.

They did not.

“Perhaps they are too scared”, the Vessel thought, it was natural for children to be scared.

With a burst of strength, the Golem forced the slaver to his knees, hoping the extra vulnerability would bolster the children’s courage.

Yet still they did not move from their position.

It was then that Wanderer looked into the eyes of the smallest child and saw the emotions flashing through them.

Confusion, fear, these things the Golem expected to find, yet within their small eyes there was another emotion, reluctance.

“But why” the Vessel questioned, ”Why do they not run?”.

It was at that moment the familiar voice of their Spirit rose from a place right next to their soul, carrying with it the message that they suspected yet did not want to hear.

The children did not want to be free.

Wanderer's mind refused to accept it, adventure and freedom were the core of their being, how could anyone else possibly wish to remain trapped and abused.

Spirit soon told them of the reason.

The slaves were unlike Wanderer or Emio, they had to eat and drink and were not capable of travelling without rest like the Golem and in a place as harsh as the desert, it was unlikely for them to find such resources easily.

“But surely even the chance of freedom is worth the risk”, Wanderer argued, still unable to comprehend how someone could go so against the core facet of their being.

Yet their Spirit doubled down, claiming that the children did not flee not only because of the difficulty in doing so, but because they had likely never known anything but slavery, and knew nothing of freedom.

The Vessel stilled at the thought, subconsciously increasing their grip on the struggling man, so utterly perplexed at the thought as they were.

“What would that life be like”, from the moment of their moulding, Wanderer had freedom, the chance and the wish to explore wherever they wanted to.

They tried, and tried, yet despite their best efforts, they could not comprehend what being trapped for their entire life would be like, let alone not being able to even wish for freedom.

It just didn't make sense.

They were snapped from their contemplation by a fist hitting them squarely across the cheek, the man they were restraining having managed to slip one hand out from their grasp while they were distracted.

The punch did little, the man, while large, was not particularly strong and the hit didn't have the power to damage the Golem’s clay flesh, yet what caused far more damage was the Vessel’s realisation the the slaver in front of them had trapped two children for so long they could not even dream of escape.

It was now that the simmering rage that had been repelled by the throes of confusion reared its ugly head, unwilling to be ignored.

The man was shoved back with force, stumbling a few steps back yet keeping his balance.

The moment they realised their freedom, the slaver turned to run, yet there are few things more impossible than escape from a rage-fueled golem.

In an instant, two clay hands closed around the slave owner's neck while the other two pinned his arms, hoisting the man into the air.

At this time, Wanderer had no sense of the world around them, not of their Spirit calling in their head, nor Emio squirming irritatedly at their side, not even the desperate kicks of their victim registered in their mind.

All of their being was focused on the fact that the man in front of them was willing to force children to work themselves to the bone, then feel the entitlement to assault them if they even dared to clean themself.

With just a flex of their strength, the man in front of them would face the consequences of his actions and never be able to harm others again.

Yet as they looked into the eyes of their prey, they saw not the eyes of a cruel imprisoner, no emotions of hatred or contempt, they saw only one emotion, fear.

Images flashed through the Golem’s mind, of the pain and fear in the eyes of the man on the road when they had brought them to the brink of death, of the fear and pain they felt when they were at the mercy of the humans at the tree's roots.

They remembered the fear in the eyes of the very children Wanderer was trying to protect.

In an instant, they came to the realisation that if they were to kill the man, who so obviously feared the Vessel, then they would be no different from them.

As if they had been thrown into the depths of the coldest lake, reality thrust itself upon Wanderer once again and they dropped the slaver from their grasp.

They didn't truly know how to feel, happy that they pulled themself back from the brink or angry that they had let themself come so close to killing once again.

And so they didn't, resorting to following their instincts and doing what they have always done, explore.

And so, with an empty mind and emotionless gaze, the Vessel began their ascent up the side of the tower of rock, their two friends following along in silence.