The Wish

The house was small, but comfortable. Fresh baked bread sat on the table and a fire crackled in the hearth. Mother kept everything tidy. He could barely recall his father’s face; he remembered the day Uncle Din brought back his father’s sword. He laid on the soft, woven rug, looking up, admiring the long, slightly curved blade, with its angled, heavy cross-guards and two-handed grip. He was excited to see the city, but apprehensive about being sent to learn with Din. It was his father’s dying wish that he become a swordsman, and Uncle Din meant to enforce that wish.