"Your not heroes, your kids."
I remember Madie screaming to the departing figures, pleading with them almost. All three children stopped and Danny turned his head to us, his face slowly lifting. When his eyes finally meet ours, we were all frozen stiff when in stead of the icy blue eyes that had always seemed to inspire a feeling of hope to those how looked, were gone, and a raging and violent storm with the signs of great wisdom and maturity were left in its place. His parting words still ring in my ears, calm and cold, like the voice of a dead man- not an ounce of hope at all- , and OH how I wish for all the world to never have heard them. But I do remember them; I remember them with great clarity.
"We haven't been children for three years."
And the children- who weren't really children- walked away, and I watched as the fearless heroes- who weren't really fearless- run into battle.