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Night had fallen hours ago, midnight approaching. No stars hung in the sky. The only source of light was the full moon that sat overhead. The little town looked normal under the moon's light. Everyone lay sleeping in their beds, except for one. A figure darted across the streets of the small town as he floated atop the fresh snow, not leaving any trace of his presence, carrying a modest package in his hands. He neared a home not too far from the village center, as if he had known where to go.
The figure hesitated, taking a step back and looking at the package. The tall male went rummaging in their pockets, pulling out an insignificant letter. All hesitation dismissed. He fixed the parcel on the doorstep with the letter on top. Except it was not a simple package, but a baby swaddled tight enough it couldn't move. The shadowy figure wrecked their knuckles on the door before darting away.
Minutes ticked by as the snow continued to fall. No movement occurred from the home. Then the little one cried. It was desperate as the night grew colder. Minutes passed, but you could hear the faint shuffle of feet coming closer and the ever so slight squeak of hinges. A tall, muscular man opened the front door. His face grew soft as his hardened eyes fell on the child that was placed by his door. With haste, he cradled the small freezing child in his arms and shut the entrance, stopping the bone-chilling wind from entering his warm home.
The man walked deeper into the house, a smile gracing the little one's face. He gurgled while reaching up, trying to grasp at the man's black beard that was out of reach of the child's hands. The black-headed man grabbed a cushion off his couch and set it in front of the fireplace, then set the little one on top. Stepping back, he stared at the young child, running his fingers through his short black hair as if in thought. He paced the room; the child watching his movements on top of the cushion. Then a white envelope crumpled, damp, and lying on the floor caught the man's attention. He snatched the envelope off the ground and tore it open, sitting in one of his more comfortable chairs. He unfolded the letter with care while glancing at the child.
Dear stranger,
Please take care of my son. I do not wish him to live in constant fear of strangers who might whisk away his father. I do not wish him a life on the run. This child will grow to be special. I beg you to treat him as your own. You are my last resort. He is now yours to name, yours to keep.
A Father's Last Hope
He glanced at the boy; he was fast asleep in front of the fire. His eyes clouded with questions unanswered. The muscled guardsman glanced around, eyes landing on his sword propped in the corner by the stairs and the boy by the fire. The fire had cooled by the time he stood from his seat.
The bulky man got up, taking his time as he made it to the corner that held his shiny blade. Making his way to the table in the kitchen, he placed the blade atop the wooden surface. Out of reach, untouchable by the child that lay asleep by the fire.
He walked back to the little one and picked up the sleeping boy. The guard held him up, taking care not to wake the child. He looked as any healthy baby should. Round and cute. Though one thing was noticeable, a locket hung around the little one's neck. The man removed the ornament, taking care not to wake the boy. He lay the little one beside him on a chair.
He opened the oval-shaped necklace, trying to make as brief a commotion as achievable, and a charming brown-haired woman with green sparkling eyes and a pale complexion with narrow lips greeted him. A scribbled date and time sat across from this woman. Closing the locket and picking up the child, he made his way to the fireplace and placed the trinket atop the mantel.
"Daniel Gray, you are now the son of Jack Gray, and from this day forward I swear upon my oath as a knight to protect, teach and guide you as if you were mine," Jack whispered to little Daniel as he made his way up the stairs and through the hallway to his bedroom.