My hands dropped to my lap and lay there like inanimate objects. “I never knew you fought in that battle. You never talk about it…” I said, my words trailing away like smoke.

Bowen sighed and took my hands in his. It dimly registered that his hands, though weathered and badly need of a manicure, were soft and warm.

“It’s nothing something I like talking about or even remembering. Especially with you, Lailah. I cared for your parents very much. They took me in from the street when anyone else would have left me for dead. I’m forever grateful to them for that.”

“Did you see them d-die?”

I could feel the tears beginning to well in my eyes, but I wiped them away. I needed to hear his answer.

At first it seemed as if he wouldn’t answer me. For a while, we just sat there, listening to the night breeze rustle the leaves. Then he said: “Yes, I was there when it happened. Your father was shot in the heart by an arrow, and when your mother ran to try and heal him, she was hit in the neck by one, too. I’m sorry.”