To be well-known for great terror

Is what my hands sowed.

Never thought I would consider regret

But that changed after many years of being old.

To that old liar in hell

Was where I thought I sold my soul.

Met a wise woman

And she assured me that's power he doesn't hold.

Soon I shall see my Master

Whom physically I don't know.

Reborn in spirit

I pray now that it shows.

My time is nigh

But the wait is so long.

One final death

And then I'm going home.

-Master Trippe "Poem of a Worn Soul"

"Riku!"

I raise my head from my blue pillow after hearing the voice of Master Trippe.

"Riku," His gruff voice echoes throughout the three room cottage. My ears perk up this time. "Get in here!"

I hop off my belly unto my paws and spin immediately to the direction of Master's room. Sniffing, I could detect urgency in the air. Without another moment's hesitation, I dash across the hard, wooden floor to the room sitting off to the right. I thank the Most High for my master leaving the door cracked, because it would have been some trouble getting into a closed door.

Once in I stopped at the sight of Master standing in front of the open window. The blankets of his bed lay in a messy pile at the foot of his bed. I fight the urge to wallop in them like I use to when I was a few seasons younger. Right now, my master needs me!

"Riku," he says my name softly. His silver hair that flows down his back is picked up by the hands of the wind. The seasons have pushed back his hairline, which I personally believe leaves an awesome gleam on his head. His hands are folded into the small of his back, and the hem of his faded, dark blue robe sits on the floor. My master looks so epic!

"Yes master!" I bark, anxious to hear his next words.

"Come closer my friend."

I am sure to go completely around the blankets as I make my way to him. I stand off to his left and look up. His pointy, silver beard is the first thing I can see. My master is known for having a stern face, but the wrinkled and scared face bears a look of grievance. This face I have only seen three times before. The last being when Diana died. Oh no! I hope nobody died...

"Riku," he says my name a fourth time. "Twenty-eight seasons have you been with me."

"True!" I say with glee. These twenty-eight of thirty-two have been magnificent, and it can only get better!

Master Trippe smiles. "Always interrupting me."

I bow my head low. "Sorry." I whimper.

To my surprise, he chuckles! "I told Prophetess Tiana I wasn't a dog person. Yet, she insisted I take you in. A man's best friend, so to say." He looks down at me. "I have lived for many seasons, and I can honestly say that no friend has brought me as much joy as you." I look up to see a twinkle in his chestnut, brown eyes, which brings a more lively appearance to his lightly, tanned face. My master must be sick! This is nothing like him.

He looks back out the window and that solemn look I am familiar with returns. "Riku," Number five. "Before you join me, I have collected much blood on my hand. Avenged many comrades, took over many grounds, and slain many enemies."

Master Trippe, the Wind Swordsman many call him. I only know what others have spoken when it comes to the history of my master. Some were gruesome tales, but never has he verified any to me. So this is quite unusual.

"The Prophetess once said to me that since I live by the sword, I will die by the sword." He closes his eyes as another breeze sweep over his face. "So she earnestly encouraged me to seek the Great One's face for many seasons."

Why is Master Trippe speaking these words? Hey! I scamper after him as he walks off. I follow him outside to the back of the house. The moon sits high pouring light down on us. But Master is going into the forest! Even I know it's not wise to walk in darkness, but I follow him anyway.

Upon stepping in, fireflies upon fireflies begin to glow. It's as if they are illuminating a path for us. Master treads silently, and I am unable to see his face, but I doubt he is surprise by the sight like I am.

We don't stop walking till we reach a large opening. In the center of the opening stands a colossal in size oak tree. Master walks to it and places his hand inside a hole in the tree. He braces himself, and then emits a heavy grunt as he yanks back. A red and black hilt comes out with a long and slender blade attached to it.

It's Master Trippe's katana! I didn't think the stories were true. The blade appears worn and dingy, but I can almost feel power flowing from it. As I stare at the blade, I can literally feel an array of emotions from the lives taken by the blade. I begin to bag up.

"You feel it as well," laments Master Trippe. "If it wasn't for grace."

Master Trippe holds the katana in the palm of his hands observing it. Tears? Tears fall from his eyes and fall onto the blade. He drops to his knees and raises the katana to the heavens.

"Abba! How can you forgive such a wretched soul?" He cries to God. Despite the strange vibes the katana gives off, I draw closer to my Master. I rest my head on his thigh. My eyes are shut tight as I could feel the rattling of his body as he begins to sob.

"I am not worthy. . ." The sorrow in my Master's voice falls on my heart heavily. I hate that I am experiencing him in this state. Tears begin to fill my eyes. My poor master.

Thunder speaks from the skies. Master does a sharp intake. "But Master... I have done so much. I do not understand your grace."

The thunder sounds off again, this time much louder than last. I press closer to Master Trippe. God must have a word for him!

"Forgive me, Abba, for questioning your grace." A shift in my Master's body causes me to move my head. I watch as he bows his head all the way to the ground with the sword stretched out before him.

We sit there for a long moment. My first personal assignment was to stand on guard for those who are after my Master's life, but the Most High's presence has become quite thick in this area. This has me feeling very at ease. Very... *yawns* comfortable. I stretch out on the left of my Master and lay my head on my paws.

A little black boy with a fro fills my head.

'You shall call him master, oh, faithful one.'

POETICMOTIONSCOLLIDINGWITH

INTENSITY!

"Put your sword back in its place," Jesus said to him, "for all who draw the sword will die by the sword." -Matthew 26:52 (NIV)