My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

948  Living The Best Life Please visit fr𝐞𝐞w𝒏.𝒸𝑜𝔪 website to read fastest update

By the end of Sammy's hellish gauntlet, my heart was left pumping only pure adrenaline. Even the air felt like static, I couldn't so much as breathe without feeling the amp of a thousand defibrillators transcending my soul to a different plane of consciousness. The field used to be a beautiful place—a pasture of bountiful greens for sheep to graze and horses to frolic. Claiming that we live on a farm would just be flat-out lying now. A derby was more like it; childhood memories of sprinting through reeds and flowers overtaken by ramps, barricades, two-meter high jumps, and pretty much everything else in between.

"No secret," Sammy shook her head. "I just think of me, think of you, and remind myself that we still are who we are." She put it so simple and blunt that surely what she said made some sort of sense… except I don't think I was getting it just yet. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"I mean just look at us, Big Bro. We are the way we are because of them, aren't we?" She said, reaching empty hands into the vast, open air. "They raised us to be like this. They taught us how to be good, to know right from wrong; they didn't have to. They could have definitely raised us any other way if they wanted to, teach us very different things, and yet, they chose to raise us the way we are instead. Love us the way they did. That's gotta count for something, right?" I could see exactly where she was coming from, and really, her reasoning was a perspective I could definitely get behind myself. Because in no way was anything she claimed wrong… we were who we were because of our parents' influence, choices… as despicable as they were… they have raised us to be better. "You saved that man, Harry," Sammy said. "Nearly killed yourself for his sake. You were that selfless, that stupid. And who was the one that taught you to be like that?" "Sure. I see your point." "Who made us breakfast every morning? Who sent us to school? Brought us out camping? Taught us how to ride horses? Tend to the sheep? Harvest the crops? Who made your brownies for your birthday? Who made my cakes? Who was always there for us every time we needed them?" She was convincing, so awfully persuasive that I almost felt weightless, peaceful. That maybe, surely, this was how we could reconcile with everything, with all that we know. And yet, the question still remained. "But does all that really excuse it all?" I asked. Sammy breathed in deeply. Between her fingers, I noticed, rolled again another small block of ice, a narrow stream dribbling along her palm before slowly letting it fall. "It ain't supposed to be an excuse, Big Bro," She said, her somber expression relenting a faint smile. "It's just supposed to be a way to live with it. That's all."  

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