When James spotted his wounded brother, he ran over and knelt beside him.
“Will. William Riddle, do you hear me?”
Only a moan and glassy stare met his inquiry. Fear gripped his gut as he considered that his brother may be dead or dying.
But he felt immediate relief when he saw that his thirteen-year old brother was still breathing. Carefully examining Will's body, he looked for any blood or sign of injury. It was with another sigh of relief that James discovered there was only one wound and it was only a gash made upon the boy's head. Just a scratch. Good thing you have such a hard head, Will.
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