After the General leaves, Mother and I go for a walk outside in the dark. A thin breeze stirs the bushes, rustles the grass, then swirls away. Only some snorts and whinnies from the horses break the silence.
"If I decide to go," I say to Mother, "I won't be gone long. I could be back by the next full moon. Maybe even sooner."
"If you decide to go," Mother says in a flat, dull voice, "you'll never come back. I'll never see you again."
"That's not so. I belong here with you and Father, I know that. I'd come back as soon as the war is over."
Mother shakes her head sadly. "I know you mean well, my son," she says. "But you can't come home if you can't walk. And you can't walk if you're dead."
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©1996 Henry Charles Mishkoff