BLOOD DROP

Chapter 4

Mr. Albert’s cousin was called **Robert**, a man shaped by discipline, silence, and the long memory of the forest. He and Mr. Albert had once been soldiers together—young men hardened by drills, duty, and danger. Where Mr. Albert chose farms, machines, and enterprise after retirement, Robert chose an entirely different path.

When his service ended, Robert turned his back on towns and noise and went deep into the forest, where the air was clean and the nights spoke in the voices of insects and distant animals. Hunting was not just a skill to him; it was a way of life. He lived traditionally, taking only what he needed, respecting the balance of nature. Silence was his closest companion. He preferred the rustle of leaves to human chatter and trusted the wisdom of the land more than anything made by human hands.

Robert disliked manufactured medicine. Pills and injections meant little to him. Instead, he relied on herbs—roots, leaves, bark, and flowers whose healing powers he had learned through years of experience. Every important herb he discovered, he carefully documented. He wrote their names, uses, preparation methods, and dangers in worn notebooks and stacked them neatly in his small room. To step inside that room was like entering a botanist’s sanctuary. The air carried the scent of dried plants, and bundles of herbs hung from the ceiling beams, each one holding a story and a cure.

Despite his love for isolation, Robert followed one unbreakable tradition. Every year, during the national independence holiday, he left the forest and visited his cousin, Mr. Albert. Those days were filled with memories—stories of their youth, of battles fought, of friends lost, and of a country they had once sworn to protect. After a few weeks, Robert would return to the forest without hesitation. In Shanta Town, people knew him as a shadow that appeared only during independence celebrations and vanished again as quietly as he came.

That particular morning marked **Guinex Independence Day**.

Shanta Town woke dressed in color. Banners stretched across streets, flags fluttered from buildings, and the air buzzed with celebration. Jacob rose early, as he often did now, and so did Jasmine. They met in the corridor, exchanged warm greetings, and walked side by side toward Mr. Albert’s sitting room.

As they approached, they noticed Mr. Albert speaking with a man whose presence immediately felt different—calm, firm, and commanding without effort. Jasmine’s eyes widened with recognition.

“Uncle Robert!” she exclaimed.

She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. Robert laughed softly and returned the embrace.

“Uncle, why are you still hiding in the forest?” Jasmine teased. “Look—this is Jacob. He has the same ambitions as you. A true forest dweller!”

Everyone laughed, including Robert, whose smile carried both humor and depth.

“Jacob,” Mr. Albert said, turning toward the boy, “this is Mr. Robert—the skilled hunter I told you about. The one who can make you great at it. I’ve already spoken to him, and he has agreed to take you in.”

Jacob bowed respectfully. “It is an honor to meet you, sir.”

Robert studied him for a moment, then nodded approvingly. “What a fine young man,” he said. “I think we’ll get along just well.”

“Let’s prepare,” Mr. Albert announced. “We’re going to the Shanta Town arena. The mayor will be delivering a speech today.” He paused and looked at Jasmine with a grin. “Jasmine, guess what day it is, my dear?”

She straightened, raised her hand in a playful soldier’s salute, and shouted, “Guinex Independence Day!”

Robert chuckled. “You’ve taken me back to the old days.”

After an hour of preparation, they climbed into the car and headed toward the arena. The place was packed—men, women, and children waving small national flags, pride shining on their faces. Jacob watched in amazement. The patriotism of the people of 1985 felt powerful, sincere. He couldn’t help comparing it to 2024, a time when many barely remembered the meaning of independence, let alone the year it was achieved.

Mayor **Henry Stickwell** delivered his speech with confidence, his words echoing through the arena. Then came the parade—rows of well-trained soldiers marching in perfect rhythm. The crowd cheered, and for a moment, the entire town breathed as one.

By the time they returned home, everyone felt satisfied, their hearts full from the celebration. Jacob spent much of the evening talking with Robert, listening intently as the older man spoke of forests, discipline, and survival. Before the night ended, Robert placed a firm hand on Jacob’s shoulder.

“Prepare yourself,” he said. “Next week, we leave for the forest.”

Jacob’s heart leapt.

As days passed, Jacob and Jasmine grew closer. Their conversations deepened, and an unspoken bond formed between them—quiet, sincere, and strong.

When the day finally came, Robert loaded his belongings into his old **1965 Land Rover**, its engine rough but reliable. Jacob said his goodbyes.

“I’ll see you on the next independence holiday,” Jasmine said, trying to smile.

“We will,” Jacob replied, meaning it with all his heart.

The Land Rover rumbled onto the road, carrying them away from town. Along the way, Jacob asked endless questions.

“So, why did you become such a skilled hunter?” he asked.

Robert laughed. “I was a soldier, young boy. Once, I killed a lion with nothing but a throwing dagger.”

Jacob stared at him, wide-eyed.

Robert burst out laughing. “I’m joking—but not entirely.”

When they reached Robert’s home, deep within the forest, Jacob was stunned. Nearby lived a small, scattered community of retired soldiers who shared the same love for hunting and solitude. They lived apart yet together, communicating across distances using whistles that echoed through the trees.

“Tomorrow,” Robert said, unloading the luggage, “we hunt antelopes. You’ll learn how to set traps—and how herbs can save a man’s life.”

Jacob smiled brightly. “I’m ready. I’ll give everything to learn.”

“Good,” Robert said. “I like your courage.”

Inside the house, Jacob looked around at the herbs lining the walls. “Are you a botanist?” he asked.

Robert shook his head. “Not by college training. By experience.” He smiled. “And I’ll teach you everything I know. Now—let’s prepare dinner.”

They worked together, fire crackling softly as night settled over the forest. After dinner, they lay down to rest, each lost in thoughts of the day to come—one dreaming of knowledge, the other of passing it on.