Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 193: Conquering His Fears

They retraced their path through the dense undergrowth, their footsteps muffled by the moss-laden earth. After half an hour of steady trekking, they emerged at the edge of a deep ravine. There, suspended by thick ropes and creaking under the mountain wind, was the hanging bridge—narrow, weather-worn, and swaying ever so slightly.

With practiced ease, Jethru removed a rock, revealing a small metal mechanism hidden beneath. Since they could not be on the plateau every day, Jethru had purposely brought a few rocks there and hid the mechanism under.

"Did you make the bridge, Grandpa?" Gideon asked, his gaze fixed on the small pulley as Jethru began winding it. The gears, though rust-streaked, still gleamed faintly in the light that filtered through the trees.

Normally serious and reserved, Gideon only engaged in conversation when he was with his family or when something captured his interest.

"Hmm. I did. If not, how could I conveniently cross over?" Jethru snorted. "I didn’t fancy falling to my death every time I needed to cross." His tone was blunt, as usual.

Gideon was speechless. The white-haired man indeed has a sharp tongue. He could only stand silently and watch him.

"Grandpa, why do you still need to do that to the bridge?" Percival stepped forward, frowning as the bridge slowly lifted. "Why not just leave it raised all the time? Isn’t lowering and lifting it every time... a bit risky? What if someone attacks? You’d never have the time to pull it up." He looked back at the trees and the thick bushes behind them.

"But we never had an enemy who would attack us. This isn’t for people—it’s to keep the wild things from wandering in."

Percival was also silent after that. Even he couldn’t argue with the logic of survival in the wild.

Lara watched as her master finished his task. She knew the real reason. Jethru wasn’t just protecting them from beasts—he was protecting them from the world beyond, the one filled with men more dangerous than any creature.

Percival’s question lingered in her mind. But it didn’t matter anymore. Her master had made his decision—they returned to civilization, and this place would be their temporary haven should they need to hunt and look for medicinal plants.

Without a word, Jethru shouldered the basket where the pups slept, curled like tiny balls of dark grey, and lifted the heavier ones filled with herbs and fruit gathered during the journey. He stepped onto the bridge ready to cross.

"I can handle them, Master." Lara was confused. Her master never treated her like a fragile, delicate doll, but why was he grabbing things from her now?

"You need to free up your hands. It seems we have another Reya among us, paralyzed by fear at the edge of the planks." Jethru gestured subtly towards the youngest member of their group.

Barett.

He stood frozen a meter from the edge, his face ashen and drawn. To him, the cliff’s sheer drop loomed in front of him like an ominous shadow, about to swallow him whole. His hands gripped tightly at his sides, the whiteness of his knuckles stark against his tanned skin.

The rugged landscape, across which he had admired earlier, now seemed grim. His face was pale as the feathery clouds floating above. He struggled to steady his racing heart and calm his ragged, shallow breath.

"Brother, what’s wrong with you?" Abel looked back when he felt that Barett was not following him.

Gideon and Percival were already halfway across the swaying bridge, their laughter mingling with the whispers of the wind. They relished the gentle rocking beneath their feet, which made the wooden planks creak softly in response.

Percival, always the competitive one, raced with his brother and reached the other side in no time at all.

Gideon, however, stopped in the middle. A playful breeze tousled his hair and caressed his cheeks, carrying with it the fresh scent of distant pine and flowers. He faced east, spread his arms wide, and breathed in deeply. He never felt so free and so alive.

He tilted his head to where his sister was, talking to Barett and giving him instructions. He sent her his silent thanks for bringing them into such a beautiful place. He knew that he would come out a different person, no longer reticent, but one who would unleash his full potential.

He would remember this moment—the exact air, the exact feeling—and he would carry it back with him, a reminder of who he truly was.

"Hey, Brother, what are you going to do? Are you meditating or what?" Percival, who was already on the other side, came back and tugged at his extended arm.

Gideon glared at him for interrupting his moment. But in the end, he followed him and crossed to the other side.

Abel reluctantly crossed the bridge. He would sometimes look back, worry creasing his smooth forehead. But then he was comforted by the fact that his cousin was there and Lara would be more capable than he to guide his brother.

Lara and Barett were already halfway across the bridge when Bener stepped onto the bridge to join them. He went somewhere to relieve himself.

"Barett, you are doing good. Just keep looking ahead. Don’t look down." Lara urged the teenager, her voice calm and steady.

A breeze blew. A good portion of Barett’s tresses were swept across his face, momentarily blinding him. Instinctively, he reached up to push them aside—and made the mistake of looking down.

An unprecedented dizziness hit him. He felt that the water far below turned into thousands of hands reaching out, beckoning for him to jump. He wanted to lift his head and look forward, but his head seemed to feel as heavy like a lead.

And then... the memory returned— the one he tried to bury in the farthest corner of his mind.

He closed his eyes and tried to push it away, but it burst forth like water released from the floodgate of a dam.

It was six months after the old chieftain died. It was now Barett’s turn to take the family cow to graze in the lush, undulating hills south of their village. At the edge of that hill was a precipice, and below was the river bend, a serpentine stretch where the waters narrowed to their most treacherous yet deepest point— where the water raged like the tempest in August.

He had seen something he shouldn’t have.