A young boy stood on the bow of a ship, the salty spray of the sea misting his face as waves crashed against the slender wooden hull. He leaned forward, perched at the very edge, mesmerized by the rhythmic rise and fall of the lower deck as it cut through the churning waters.
"Blake," his father's voice called, steady and firm, breaking through the boy's reverie. The man studied his son's eager, bright-eyed expression with a mixture of pride and amusement. "Remember this: half the worth of a man lies in what he does, not in what he says. When you make a threat, see it through. The other half, though, is in how vivid and bold those threats can be." He smiled, his rough hand resting atop Blake's windswept hair.
