Role

Chapter 3

She traveled with him from sun up to sun down. She carried his bag, which
contained all of their belongings. A few robes and tattered clothes. A
soiled ragdoll. A few small bits of bread. That was all.

Amriith would fly behind Monk as he traveled his daily routine. First they
would visit the back alleys in the morning, to pray with the homeless and
down-trodden of the alleyways. Then a brief trip to a soup kitchen for a
small breakfast. Then to the docks to pray with the few homeless and wretches
of the docks. Then off to the main streets of Galadon to beg for food or
coin. Lastly, to the Galadon Homeless Shelter. Where he would drop off any
coin and spare food he had earned from the day. There they would finally
rest and train. Monk's training was more about inner strength. Focusing on
breathing and meditation, but that is a tale for another day. Amriith and
Monk did this routine every day that she had ever known him.

Amriith would watch as he would be spat on, or beaten. He would be called a
savage or a filthy beggar by men who thought themselves above him. Never
did Monk fight back. Never did he raise a fist in anger. Amriith would
sometimes get upset, herself. She would say to him: "Don't let them treat
you this way." "Fight back!" He would only look at her. In those times,
Amriith wanted to hit him, or run away. However, she had no where else to
go. She was ashamed of Monk.

Now, as she has grown, Amriith remembers something else. A time when a person
tried to spit, not on Monk, but on Amriith. She remembers Monk coming
between her and her would-be attacker. And most of all, Amriith remembers
the look in Monk's eye. A look that frightened her, and sent the assailant
running.

All these years, and Amriith finally realizes that that was the look of
someone ready to die in defense of someone they love. She realizes this, now,
because she knows what it is to be ready to die for something.