"I know, Father, I know," Loman said patiently, masking his concern with practiced ease even as his heart began to race within his chest at his father's extreme reaction to what had only been a firm press at the center of the old wound.
Slowly, his fingers moved on from the scar that ran several inches along his father's side where the spear of a Horned Demon had nearly impaled him. The jagged scar still bore the marks of hasty battlefield stitching all these years later and if not for having a priest almost constantly at his side during that war, the wound would likely have been fatal.
