DECOY : WARRIOR LOST

          He was watching her.  As she moved around the small kitchen in the cabin she had brought him back to, he silently studied her.  She had told him a small bit about what they were so afraid of, and he was determined to find out more.  NO one should be this scared.  Certainly not of him, OR his uniform, which was obviously a part of the problem.

          The boy, Puppus, kept up a running dialog a multitude of different things, of which Roark merely smiled, listening to him, commenting when he was needed to.  It brought to mind his brother's children, even his own son.  Hunter was just beginning to learn to talk, or babble as the case may be.

          "You have a nice smile,' he heard her say, drawing his eyes from the fire, which he had turned to study, the fingers of his right hand twisting the rings on his left, first one way, then another.  "Of what do you think?" she asked softly.

          His eyes went to Puppus, who was setting the table.  "Puppus reminds me of many of my younger nieces and nephews.  Even my son."

          "You have a son?  You have a lot of nieces and nephews?"

           "A fair few.  As I have fifteen brothers and even more cousins.  And yes, I have a son.  His name is Hunter, and he is just under fifteen sectar old, and just beginning to babble his way to learning a few words here and there."

          "FIFTEEN?" she gasped, her eyes going wide.