As we stood around chatting, all seemed to be friendly with her husband and me. We were talking for a while. “You two look like brothers.” someone said.


“We are like brothers,” I said.


“Yeah we are.” her husband said.


After a few drinks, I was completely relaxed, he had shown no signs of aggression. That was until he grabbed me by the collar and pushed me slightly. At that moment everything slowed, time had almost frozen for me, this gave me the advantage.


As he shoved me into the wall I grabbed him at the throat. I managed to throw him against a fence. He still had his pint glass in hand, without notice he struck me in the face with it. Blood fell from my face, I dragged him to the floor where I began to punch him. I had enough time to look around me, loads of bystanders began to rush over. “He’s had enough. Let him go.” somebody said.


“I’ll say when the little shit’s had enough,” I shouted.


By this time, all or most of the people had left the pub to get a look at what was going on. I stood up, kicked him on the back of his head, and walked home.


I got inside the house, where the grandfather of the children was. He had been looking after them. The kids were crying and I knew I could not go up there in the state I was. I woke him up to go check on them. It was a bit later when I left the house, I went back to the pub to find my girlfriend, instead, I was confronted by her husbands’ mother and stepfather, they tried to attack me and I warned them. They took my advice.


As I walked back to the house again, I noticed that he was walking up the same road. I turned, eager for another fight, and approached him. “Look at my fucking face,” I shouted. “you smashed a pint pot in my face!”


He said nothing and continued to walk. His mother was right behind him. Then he tried to punch me, I stepped back and maneuvered his body down onto the floor. I punched him a couple of times and then his mother attacked me from behind. The kids’ grandfather dragged me into the house and pulled the angry mother off me. There were neighbors that came out and grabbed my girlfriend’s husband, but not before he spat at me and shouted something derogatory, some Scottish religious words. I know not.


When the fighting ended, someone had called the Police, they came to me first and saw that my face was bloody and cut. They were told what had happened. “I’m not going to say anything about it,” I said. “It was just a fight, nothing more.”


The next day, I awoke to feel fantastic, my body felt renewed. I looked into the mirror, and where there should have been cuts, there was nothing. No marks, scratches, or bruises. Solara had protected me, healed my body, and renewed my faith again. It was a miracle that did not go unnoticed by the locals. I heard the whispers on the streets, I felt great to know that they knew that my powers were, and are, as real as the sun herself.

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