“Oh, they killed Hope, they killed her. Hope… There’s nothing funny in that. Nothing at all.” - he said with the first gasp of air he managed to hold in his lungs.

The soldiers came to terms with the fact that Lesh had nothing they would be interested in. So like any other respectable ruler, they set fire to his home for punishment.

“Get the dog, we’ll cook it.” - the thin one ordered.

“It hardly has any meat on it, it’s so skinny.” - his companion said.

“At least it’s fresh.” - the thin one said and shrugged.

Then the burly man pulled Hope’s still warm body from under Lesh and tossed it over his shoulder.

“Should we kill him?” - Lesh heard a voice ask.

“What for? He’s as good as dead, let him think over that life of his.”

Those were the last words Lesh heard before he passed out. It was almost dark when he woke up in the same spot on the ground, warm from the fire that had engulfed his house and the ancient tree it was built around. He stood up slowly, his back and jaw hurting.

Then he laughed.

He laughed with all his heart, like a man without a single care in the world. Like a man drunk on wine. Like a man who had just won a purse of coins over dice.

“They didn’t kill me.” - he said out loud and laughed again.

“They killed my dog, they set my house on fire but they didn’t kill me…”

Now that was hilarious. It’s been years since he had heard a good joke and that one compensated for all of them. All the children that were silent and ran away without telling him anything. All the merchants that avoided him. It was all worth it.

“They didn’t kill me. Oh the things I will do to them now…” - Lesh said and sat on the ground, exhausted.