the old veteran in the mud,
the boys retreating in sudden fear,
the cane lying far from reach.

Raymond, still on his hands and knees, blinked through the grime. When he saw who was approaching, confusion wrinkled his brow.

“Marcus?” he whispered.

General Alden moved faster than anyone had expected from a man of his rank. He strode directly to Raymond’s side, boots splashing through the mud as if it were dry pavement.

“Ray,” he said, voice dropping to something gentler than any soldier there had ever heard from him. “Don’t move. I’ve got you.”

He knelt — the four-star general, the man who’d commanded thousands — kneeling in the mud without hesitation. His hands gripped Raymond’s shoulders with a steadiness that spoke of long friendship and long battles.

The teenagers stared, pale and frozen.

One of the uniformed escorts barked at them.
“Step back. Now.”

The boys stumbled away so fast they nearly slipped.

Alden turned his head slightly, his voice cold as winter steel.
“Detain them. I want their guardian information immediately.”

He didn’t have to say more. The escorts moved with efficient precision, herding the trembling teens toward the SUVs.

Raymond tried to speak.
“Marcus… you didn’t have to—”

“Ray,” Alden said firmly, “you saved my life twice. The least I can do is keep you from being pushed into the mud by children.”

He helped the old veteran to his feet slowly, supporting most of the weight. Another escort retrieved the cane and wiped the mud from its grip before handing it over respectfully.

Raymond steadied himself, breath shaking.
“You really came all the way out here?”