The boy's name was Cold, A name not many people enjoyed to a boy that unfortunately, not many people wanted alive. His father, the Leader, named him after himself, his father, his grandfather, great grand father, and everyone until the mourned death of Barak. Smithe was now the whole world. The world was an unfair dictatorship.
Suddenly, the boy ran up to Len and pounded over and over again on his chest with enclosed fists until Cold couldn't anymore without crying so hard that the whole body would shake and be racked by sobs. Cold fell to the ground, and cried.
Len didn't know what to do. he was so confused. What was supposed to happen? he never understood why whenever Len was tasked to do something difficult, there was no advice, no help, no instructions, nothing. He sighed, he sat down.
"Don't worry, kid. You're fine. Your safe. If I didn't come and get you in time, your father would soon kill you."
Cold angrily stood up ,walked away, turned around and pointed his small, bony finger at him, shaking it with intense anger.
"oh" he hissed " so you know my father? Of course you don't. if you did, you would not be thinking those terrible things. My father is a great leader to your stupid, lazy, rebels who only want to murder and murder and murder. You think I don't know you? You Rebels are all the same. All you want is to find excuses in leaders more fortunate than you even though my father is the only leader smart enough to know how to control you scum bags! Someday, I will be king and you will be the first one to go you mindless, ruthless kidnapper!"
Len didn't know what to do. He so badly wanted to hurt this boy so bad that his hands were trembling. Why wouldn't he? The child after the child of his enemy who murdered his family, town and friends. And still this child is ignorant enough not to see that his father was oppressing his country. Yes, Len wanted to harm this boy. But he could not. the whole purpose of his life was to love, help, teach, mentor, and nurture this boy. this boy had to trust him. Len walked to the Cold. He embraced him gently.
" You're fine. I love you. Your Father doesn't, however. If I didn't come and get you in time, your father would soon kill you. I Promise you."
Cold's small, pale eyelids and his small, pale body began to both calm and eventually shut down. Cold, the boy who only a short time ago had cursed, insulted and blamed the arms that now hold him so dear and lovingly, fell asleep.