From Rock Bottom To Hero

Diago sprints through the forest, his sword gripped tightly in his hand, the screams of his sons still ringing in his ears. Branches snap beneath his feet, the ground is heavy and damp. He must be fast.

"Damn it! I can't lose them! Where are they?!" He says, filled with doubt.

As he reaches the clearing, his breath catches. Sota lies unconscious on the ground, his face pale with painful exhaustion.

But the sight that shocks him the most is Shiro. The 7-year-old is bleeding heavily from his arm, his body motionless.

Diago rushes to Shiro, kneels beside him, sees the blood, and knows that every second counts.

He tears a piece of fabric from his shirt and wraps it around Shiro's arm like a pressure bandage.

With a quick glance, he takes in the surroundings. The impact on the rock in front of him, the shattered stones around it, and the clear wind trail leading from Sota toward the impact.

But it doesn't matter what happened. Shiro is bleeding, and Sota is unconscious on the ground.

Without hesitation, the father carefully lifts Shiro into his arms. Then he grabs Sota, picks him up as well, and makes his way back home.

The forest suddenly feels like a labyrinth, but his determination drives him forward. After all, this is about his children's lives.

As he reaches the gate, where the mother is waiting anxiously, he shouts. "Quick, get a doctor! Shiro is bleeding heavily!"

The sight of Shiro shocks the mother, but she tries to stay calm and doesn't hesitate. "I'm going immediately." She replies, grabbing her cloak in one swift motion and running toward the village to find a doctor.

The father lays Shiro and Sota on Shiro's bed, as Shiro's room is the closest to the entrance, and tries to stop the bleeding on Shiro's arm.

He knows the doctor must come as soon as possible.

It takes only about ten minutes, but it feels like hours. The mother storms into the house with the doctor behind her.

The father is still at Shiro's side, desperately trying to save him, but his medical knowledge isn't enough.

The doctor, an older man with gray hair, immediately steps forward. "Move aside! I'll take care of this!" He says, stressed, and begins examining the boy's wounds.

He treats Shiro's wound and then he examines Sota. He can't find any wounds. He can't tell why Sota is unconcious.

"They got trough the worst. I will go home now, but I will check them tomorrow morning again." He says.

"Thank you so much, doctor." Diago answers.

"No need to thank me. It is my job." He says, as he leaves.

The hours pass painfully slowly. The candle on the wooden table flickers restlessly. The mother sits by the bed, her hands wrapped around Shiro's cool fingers, while the father stands uneasily by the window. The screams of his sons still echo in his mind.

No one speaks. Only the faint cracking of the fire and the heavy breathing of the children fill the room.

Then, all of a sudden a faint sound. A strangled gasp.

"Shiro!" The mother leans forward hastily. The boy blinks, his eyes weary, his gaze unfocused.

For a moment, he seems unsure of where he is.
"My boy!" She says, tears in her eyes.