DEAD OF NIGHT
All was quiet, the last few nights had been very strange. No moon, no stars. The sky had been empty, as if the heavens now had no will to shine. The trio pushed through the dense forest; Tomoe slashing through the scrub making a path for them, Fukushima next, snapping every twig nearby with his clumsy feet, and Musashi, whose stealth made him appear to float along behind them. His eyes darted around, scanning for danger. The darkness brought them stealth, but he knew the dark had its own dangers. They would make it to the canyon soon and just as well, Musashi was showing signs that the journey had not been easy and his wound must have cracked open because a new red stain had appeared on the fresh clothes Tomoe had bought in the wagon. He was still very much the guardian of the three. He held face very easily, being a samurai had taught him to hide pain from everyone as you cannot let anyone know you are weakened. Fukushima had seen the stain grow and knew the stubborn Musashi was hiding a lot of pain. He studied Musashi's face and saw for the last few minutes that Musashi squinted slightly every so often. Fukushima tried hiding the smile that forced through every time he saw a squint.
"Musashi san," Fukushima broke the long quiet with just a whisper so that Tomoe would not hear his words, and Musashi's pride would not be too affected by a woman knowing his situation, "It is ok to show you are hurting. I know it, and Tomoe san is way ahead cutting our path, she will not hear if you take a few heavy breaths and she will not see if you ease on your side a little bit. We are not your superiors, you can relax."
"Although you speak the truth my friend, I cannot abandon the ways of my uncle's teachings." And Musashi continued on as if his side was perfectly healed, still squinting now and then. Ten minutes later though, Musashi reluctantly put his arm across his stomach to press the gash with the palm of his hand, and gave out a gentle sigh.

Tomoe's Thoughts