Vance Cavanaugh entered the general store. He had just moved into town and he needed supplies to begin his construction business. What he saw angered him. Two men were standinag at the counter, both were dressed in saffron robes and their heads were shaven. Vance watched as the two men signed for their supplies. No money? That's typical. After the men left, Vance approached the storekeeper.

"I thought this town didn't have any weirdos. Who are those guys?"

"They're just a couple of shaolin monks from the Temple."

"Where is this temple?"

"About five miles out of town, north of here."

"How many are there?"

"I really don't know. I've only seen about a dozen or so. Some of them have families."

"How do you figure that?"

"I've seen a couple come in with children."

"Any women?"

"No, just men and young boys."

Vance did not like the sound of that.

"How long has this temple been around here?"

"Oh, I'd say the temple's been here for at least 50 years."

The man behind the counter was beginning to get annoyed. This man seemed to be asking a great number of questions. The monks have always been a peaceful group.

"Look, I have work I need to do. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Oh, yeah. I need this order filled." Vance handed the man a slip of paper. The man looked it over.

"This is an awfully big order. I may not have everything in stock."

"I'll pick up the rest next week. You can bill it to that name and address."

Vance left the store. He spotted the two munks in the distance. He would have to keep an eye on this group. If there were children involved, he wanted to know. Right now, he had a business to run.

Peter was upset. The older initiates did not want him around. At least most of them. Jason was different. He treated Peter like a younger brother. Jason would let Peter tag along with him whenever he was asked to go to the lake and pick reeds for making baskets. Sometimes Jason and Peter would explore together whenever Jason had a break from his studies. Together they found a secret place. A small area of beach hidden on the other side of the lake. Jason and Peter would go there to play or whenever Peter felt upset.

Kwai Chang was grateful for Jason befriending his son. There has not been many new initiates to the Temple the last couple of years. The boys that did arrive were either older by five years or they were not worthy to enter the Temple and learn the ways of the Shaolin. Jason, though only three years older than Peter, showed even at that age the quiet and patience that was required of all initiates to begin their training. Kwai Chang over the past three months watched as the friendship grew. He also watched the other boys, some had the potential while others it would seem only were interested in one aspect and that was becoming kung fu fighters. If the ones that wanted to fight did not want to learn patience, then they would have to get their lessons elsewhere. Kwai Chang payed strict attention to three specific boys. Though they tried to hide their true motives, they could not escape the scrutiny of the Masters. Caught in the act of bullying young Peter by Master Khan, they were soon bannished from the Temple into the custody of their parents. Their parents could not understand why the boys would behave so badly toward others. They questioned the monks and they soon parted company. The terms not so friendly. They thought the Temple would be much like any private school but what they learned from their children, they soon became suspiscious of the monks for what they thought were acts of cruelty. The monks tried to tell the truth of what went on in the Temple but the parents refused to listen. They told their children to stay away from the Temple and tried to tell the monks to stay away from the town. The monks, however, knew the truth and would not be intimidated. They had every right to go to town and get what supplies they needed. After that day, the town did not feel the same. Trouble followed the monks. Those in the town who knew the truth kept to themselves, afraid that they would be taunted and so they turned a blind eye while a small group continued to persecute the monks whenever they came to town.

Today, Peter was upset. Jason was leaving at the end of the week. His family was moving farther north. He would be transferring to another Temple to finish his lessons. Jason wished he could stay but it was impossible. His family felt that Jason needed to be close to them. Blindly, Peter ran down to the lake. He wasn't suppose to leave the Temple unless someone went with him. That person was usually Jason or his father. His father, however, did not know of the secret place and on this day, he was with Ping Hai in the records room going over manuscripts. Peter blindly ran with his face in his hands but instead of taking the small trail to his right, he ran left away from the lake, away from the Temple, and into the woods. Only after he had stumbled, fallen, and looked around did he realize he was not where he wanted to be. The woods were dark with hemlock pine, spruce, and ancient oaks. Peter had not been to this part of the woods. It was colder over here and he did not bring a jacket with him. Not only that, there was gunfire in the distance. Hunting season was beginning. Peter was becoming frightened. He had not watched where he had gone. It was getting colder and Peter had lost a sandle in the process. Which way was home? He did not know and the gunfire was getting closer.

Peter quickly looked around. He did not know which direction to go. It would not matter. He had to hide before he was discovered. He heard stories from Jason of people getting shot during hunting season if they did not wear bright colors. Peter quickly ran into the thicker part of the woods. If he could get into the thicket, his clothing could help hide him. The one thing would be to remain very still. As soon as Peter hid, two men approached. One was aiming his shotgun and he fired. Peter felt the hot metal go through his side and cried out.

"That didn't sound like a rabbit."

The two men approached and saw the child laying on the ground on his side. Blood could be seen soaking through his clothing from the wound that had been inflicted on him.

"Oh, god!" One of the men reached for the injured child.

"Don't touch him. It's one of those kids from the Temple."

"Do you think we killed him?"

"What do you mean we. You shot him."

"I thought he was a rabbit. What should we do?"

"Take him to town."

"Are you crazy? If they found out we've been poaching they'll arrest us and they'll probably bring us up on charges to boot for shoot'n a kid."

"We just can't leave him here."

"We're not far from that Temple. Maybe we can take him there."

"That's even crazier. What if they put a spell on us or something. I heard they did some strange rituals. I'd say we leave him here. If he dies, it be one less cult follower to worry about. Come on. Let's get out of here before someone comes. I got what I came for anyway."

While the men argued about what they were going to do, Peter tried to keep from making any noises or moving. He did not know if they would finish the job. As soon as they left, Peter began to cry. Why did he leave the Temple? Why didn't he simply run to his room? Now he was hurt and his father wouldn't even know it. Peter tried to pull himself up but the pain was too great. He had to try to get back on the trail. If he could find a more open area, he could be able to see which way the sun was setting and maybe find his way home. Peter tried to hug his side to stop the bleeding but it was no good. The buckshot from the shotgun had done its damage and the blood seeped through his fingers. Peter stumbled several times and each time he left a trail of blood. Peter found the trail but the direction he chose did not lead back to the Temple. It only lead deeper into the woods. Peter stumbled and fell for the last time. He had lost too much blood and could not go on. He was getting colder and he was having trouble staying alert. His last thoughts were of this father.

"Please, Pop," Peter thought. "Help me. I don't want to die." Then blackness claimed him.

Jason was worried. He had not seen Peter all day. It was getting late. The evening meal would be starting. Peter had missed lunch and the lessons out in the courtyard. Jason knew Peter was upset, but usually after a couple of hours, Peter would be back to his energetic self. On this day, when Peter learned Jason was moving, it had hurt him very deeply. Jason decided to leave Peter alone until he had a chance to calm down. Now, Jason was regretting his decision. Suddenly Jason remembered the lake and their secret place. Surely Peter would not go there alone. The trail was not easy to find. Jason could usually find it because a certain bush grew near the trail. Maybe Peter had gone there and fallen asleep. Jason grabbed a jacket and a small lantern. It would soon be full night and he would need the light to see. Jason made his way down the trail and then down to the lake. The small sandy beach was empty. Peter was not there. Could he be hiding somewhere in the Temple then? Jason headed back up the trail and when he got to the juncture, something small caught his eye. It was off to the side on another trail leading into the woods. Jason went to investigate and found it to be a small sandle. A sandle that small could only fit one foot. Jason quickened his steps and raced back to the Temple.

"Master Caine!"

"Jason, we do not shout. There are others meditating."

"Please, something has happened to Peter."

Caine's attention was immediate.

"Peter? What has happened?"

"I don't know, he's missing."

A hollow feeling came to the pit of Kwai Chang's stomach. Then he began berating himself at not paying attention when his son needed him. Today, Ping Hai required Caine to go over several manuscripts. He took it for granted that Peter would be safe without him this one day. He had been wrong.

"Where is he?"

"I don't know. He wasn't in the Temple. I went to look for him but ..."

Jason was reluctant to say anything about the secret place.

"What are you not telling me? If you know something, you must tell me."

"There's this secret place that Peter and I found, a small beach by the lake. I looked but he wasn't there. When I came back, I found this by another trail." Jason showed Kwai Chang the sandle.

"Show me where you found this."

Jason lead Kwai Chang out to where he found the sandle and pointed down the trail. By that time, darkness had settled in. As Kwai Chang looked into the direction of the deep woods, a feeling of dread came over him. "Quickly," he said. "Gather the monks and have them bring lanterns, blankets, herbal medicines, and bandages. Peter may be hurt. We must hurry. The temperature is dropping and it may snow."

Jason ran back to fulfill Kwai Chang's orders. Soon every monk who was able, came with what was required. Kwai Chang lead the way. The had only gone about a half a mile when Kwai Chang croutched near some bushes. What he found increased his fears and he nearly reeled from them. Ping Hai approached and saw what Kwai Chang found in the lamplight.

"It is blood."

Bits of gray threading were also clinging to the quickly drying stain. Then Ping Hai spotted more.

"This way, Kwai Chang Caine, hurry."

Kwai Chang raced ahead with his lantern, training his eyes on everything. Then just out of the lantern's light, a gray form layed across the trail.

"Peter!" A wail escaped from Kwai Chang's lips. Tears of relief came to his eyes only to turn to pain at the site that he saw. He quickly searched for a pulse and found one but it was slow and thready. Silently they worked to assess Peter's injuries. They found the wound was not as severe as they feared but even an injury of this type could be dangerous. The buckshot that had torn through Peter's side had missed vital areas but the blood that Peter lost was still significant for his age and weight. Kwai Chang packed the injury with herbs and wrapped Peter tightly with bandages followed by a couple of blankets. Peter had been so cold to the touch Kwai Chang feared that they would not make it back to the Temple in time. He then picked up his son and raced with his charge keeping his son close to his chest to keep him warm. The monks followed in silence. When they arrived back at the Temple, the other children waited for news. They were soon ushered to bed after they learned that Peter had been found. They would reserve the rest of the news for morning.

Kwai Chang carried Peter through the Temple and into the infirmary. Ping Hai followed close on his heals.

"Set him down there."

Ping Hai gathered the necessary herbs and fresh bandages. He also gathered instruments to remove the buckshot, and to clean and bath the wound. Kwai Chang watched as Ping Hai mixed the herbs. His skill level at this point had not reached this particular Master's level. He was content on letting Ping Hai do what was necessary to save his son. When Ping Hai was done, he instructed Kwai Chang to take Peter to his room. "You must watch him carefully. I have done all I can. He has developed a fever. It will be necessary to drain the wound of infection if he is to live."

"I understand."

"I will check on him later."

Kwai Chang carried his son to his room, placed him on the bed, and covered him with the blanket. He then lit the candles in the room and lit a fire in the fire pot to warm the room farther. Never had he seen his son so frail and weak since he had pnemonia just two winters ago. Kwai Chang sat on the bed holding his son's small hand. At that moment, he felt deep guilt for not being there to prevent something like this from happening. Then anger rose up at the thought of someone harming his child. He had heard the gunshots in the distance but he had not thought they held any danger, thinking his son was safe. Who could have done this? Had they even bothered to check to see what had happened? Maybe whoever shot his son was just as afraid. Maybe they did not know what to do? Still, they should have brought his son home.

"Peter," Kwai Chang brushed his son's cheek with his hand. "Please, you must get well. I cannot loose you, too. I am sorry for not being there."

Just at that moment, Ping Hai entered the room carrying a small bottle. "This should help strengthen his Chi. You must get him to drink it."

"Thank you Master."

"Now, you must get some rest, Kwai Chang."

After pouring the liquid down Peter's throat, Kwai Chang got up and went and picked up his large wooden flute from his rooms from across the hall, and sat on the floor next to his son's bed. Nothing would move him from this spot. Quietly, he began to play. Hoping that the music would reach his son and bring him some comfort and in so doing bring comfort to his own guilt ridden soul. Hours drifted by and Kwai Chang drifted in and out of sleep and meditation. His legs aching to be released from their position. Then a small sound caught Kwai Chang's attention. Peter was crying in his sleep. Soon the crying gave way to a wail and Peter's dream became a nightmare. Kwai Chang rushed to his side, picked up his son and rocked him in his arms, soothing him with soft hushed tones, quieting his cries.

"Father? I had the most horrible dream. I dreamed I was hurt and alone. I called out to you but you never came. "

"It is alright now, Peter. You are safe."

"Why does my side hurt?"

"You were injured but you are safe now."

"Then it wasn't a dream." Peter started to cry. "I really was alone."

"No, you were never alone. I was always with you. Go to sleep now."

"Will you stay with me?"

"Yes, I will never leave you alone, again."

Peter layed back upon the bed and was soon sound asleep. Kwai Chang picked up his flute and began to play, again. The sound of the flute wrapped it's warm tones around both of them in a blanket of love.

End