The newest contraption was quite simple really. In the doorframe, the razor sharp sword was held in place at neck height.

Darion braced his heel against a far wall and ran toward it at full sprint. Yet he stepped onto a pile of dirty clothes and lost his footing. He tripped toward the blade and fell onto the ground.

The first thing he noticed was that he was still conscious. He ran his hands along his neck and face. No wounds. In his failure he tried to comb his bangs over his eyes, but they didn’t hide his wounded pride. He tried using both hands in a frantic despair to no avail. Desperate, he ran over to a mirror and wiped it clean with his sleeve.

The sword had only cut his hair.

His front door slammed open, and the outside light blinded him.

“It smells so…Oh my god! What did you do to your hair?” Toonda dropped her supplies on a table and ran over to him grabbing his face. She smiled as she examined it. “It’s an interesting look!”

“The strands are over there. Glue them back on.” He pointed toward the doorway with the contraption.

She stared at it, looked back at him, screamed out a war cry, and punched his face. Catching his jaw, his cheek and finally his nose. He took a few steps back, wiping the blood escaping his nostrils. She breathed heavily then continued screaming wildly and clenching her fist.

“What?” Darion asked, holding his broken nose.

“I can’t fucking take it anymore! You entitled piece of shit! Why can’t you just give a shit about anyone besides yourself for one second, you selfish cunt?!” She sent a searing high pitch scream through his home.

“Uh…My family’s dead and I’m a failure. I’m allowed to brood.”

She walked over to the shrine and punched a hole through the painting of Darion’s father. She looked over to see his reaction. That same blank face looked back at her. So, she grabbed the necklace and began to pull it apart.

“Wait! Wait!” Darion said, falling to his knees and holding his hands up. “Please…don’t!”

“There you go. You finally care about something. Now aim that feeling toward the men, women and children who trusted you.”

“In three weeks, Decan will be the leader. Then we can all go back to the old ways, roaming the desert like we were meant to.”

Toonda placed the necklace back down and spoke calmly.

“All but a handful of our warriors are dead. If we go on the move, the other desert tribes will slaughter us. You knew this then. Why don’t you see it now?” She placed her hand on her stomach and tears filled her eyes. “I don’t want my baby to die, Darion. Please, do something.”

When he didn’t respond, she walked over to the table and removed the few supplies she had been able to round up. He reached to his side, removed a dagger, and examined his face in the blade.

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He held the blade’s handle out toward Toonda.

“Start with fixing my hair please. Can’t go around looking like lake folk, can I?”

When Darion stepped outside he was forced to finally take a clear look around. A group of people walking by looked at him and smiled, complimenting his new look.

He walked over to a group of men sitting around and enjoying some water. “We need to build a perimeter wall.”

They all laughed.

“With what exactly?” one asked “We don’t even have enough materials for homes.”

He realized how ridiculous the request sounded, but could only think of one way to get it started.

“Tear my home down. Use what you can to start. Use the long piece for posts, and run ropes between them.”

They looked at him and laughed once more.

“Tear your home down?” one asked before whispers and nods circled the group. “Okay. We’ll start tomorrow.”

“You’ll start now,” he said. “I just need to remove a few things first.”

Footsteps approached from behind him.

“Ah…The bat comes out of his cave…”

“Decan, it pains me to say this, but I don’t have time for this.”

“Three weeks, Darion.” Decan held up three fingers. “In three weeks, you’ll have all the time in the world.”

“If you told me that this morning, I might have agreed with you.”

“What changed then?”

“I realized something.” Darion turned toward him. “This was never about us.”

“Then what is this about?”

“You're the same as me Decan: a good son walking in his father’s footsteps. I found respect for that, but all the same, my dad could beat up your dad.” He smiled at that.

“Shame we never got to see that match, eh?”

“It is.”

“Scout!” someone screamed from far away in the camp.

They all looked over and saw a man pointing at another man running for the dunes. Darion pushed Decan out of the way and ran toward the scout, who was disappearing over the hill. Yet as he approached the top and looked around, he couldn’t see anyone.

Decan and his men approached the edge of the camp as Darion returned.

“This is bad,” Darion said. “We need to prepare for an attack.”

“We scared em off,” Decan said. “He won’t be coming back.”

“Didn’t ask for your fucking opinion.” He brought up a fist to stop his guards from stepping toward Darion.

“He is the leader for now. We must respect our leaders. What is your play?”

“I already commanded some men to tear my home down and build a wall. We’ll fortify it in the direction the scout ran for. We’ll double the lookouts, and tell all fighting men to have steel on their sides. Put the most vulnerable in the center of camp. And for the love of the gods, comb that rat's nest of a beard you have before speaking to me again.”

Decan slightly bowed and smiled.

“You heard him! Get to work!” As his men left, he approached Darion. “It’s in my best interest to respect command, you know. When I am leading I can expect the same from you and any of your fanatics?”

“Decan, I command you to go fuck yourself.”

He nodded once more and walked away with his chin high and his hands behind his back.

Darion looked around the village, making sure his orders were being carried out. Hands wrapped around his shoulders from behind, hugging him.

“I should have punched you a long time ago,” Toonda said. She released him, held out his father’s sword with the necklace tied around the hilt, knelt, and presented it. “Use the past to guide our future.”

He carefully grabbed the hilt and lifted the sword, examining the blade more carefully then he ever had before. In the sun, he saw all its imperfections from its many battles. He touched the blade, and dropped it on the ground.

“Oh shit! It’s hot.” He shook his fingers and picked it back up. Toonda untied the sheath from her waist and smacked his head with it before handing it to him.

“Never drop that sword again. You hear me?”

“Yes ma'am.”