Babysitter

Jarron was so weary of tending to poor souls. Scolding himself for even taking the infant, he thought back to his younger years as he walked down the beach with the child. He had been a great warrior in his clan. Taught by his father, Zarin, he could wield a sword at the age of four. And although it displeased his mother, Zarin would take Jarron on many scout missions and hunting expeditions for his village. Jarron had a keen eye for small movement and was never unsuccessful in a hunt. Skilled on horseback and with just about every weapon ever made he was recruited by the Warlord at the age of eighteen. He had gladly accepted and began his training immediately. He was beaten every time he failed and learned quickly to not do so. Rising through the ranks faster than anyone had expected, the Warlord took a liking to him and Jarron was promoted as one of his personal guard. He served him for four years until the fateful day Marka had found Evil and reassigned him to her. At the time he was glad. She was powerful, angry, aggressive and gorgeous. She was quieter than Marka, less demanding but more animalistic, which proved tiring at times. They were lucky to develop a soul bond; it helped immensely with her speech and broody moods.

Until it landed him here. Babysitting. First her and now this young. He smirked thinking the young would be easier to handle but still shook his head, angry at the un-intentional demotion. He should be out tracking Agba with the disciples, making him suffer for what he had done to Evil and Agassiz. And yet here he was, caring for Agba's child because Evil wasn't going to. He was surprised she had let him live the week, and surprised with himself that he had even gone the lengths to remove him from her quarters. The infant was starving, but she had been using her powers to keep him asleep, and now that Jarron had him, he was screaming.