Narzack

The boy looked up at the wise old man, tears streaking his dirty face.  He clutched his tragically broken toy like a talisman, shivering with despair.

“What do I do, now?  How do I survive?” the young child asked.

The old man smiled warmly at the boy.  “Guard your heart, young soldier.  Guard it well, for they will come for it.  They will smash it and rend it, greedily devour it.”

The boy whimpered; these words were no comfort to him.  “But why did they break my toy?  It’s just a toy, just plastic and glass.”

“It represents you, young soldier.  Don’t let it destroy you.  Grieve now, in secret.  Don’t let them see you cry.  Be hard.  Be strong.  Be untouchable.  For that is the only way to survive.”

The boy shook his head.  “That doesn’t seem right, old man.  It can’t be like that for always.”

The old man closed his eyes, quiet for a moment.  “It wasn’t always, no.”  He knelt down next to the boy and whispered in his ear.  “You can change it.  Remember, remember into the deep past, before Time herself drew her first breath.  Reach back and change the world, young soldier.”