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The sun had long since set below the horizon, allowing the evening sky to settle over the land. Thousands of glittering stars shone down from the heavens onto the sleeping earth. Yet the valley was alive and bursting with an abundance of warmth and spirit.
Bonfires blazed brightly against the darkness. The men were gathered amongst themselves, drinking and laughing and jabbing good-naturedly with each other. It was hard to believe that these men had been engaged in battle as early as that morning. But that was the way of a warrior. When you spent almost your whole life on a battlefield, you had to appreciate every moment that was granted to you.
Guts watched over them all from his perch on the hill. His hands were wrapped tightly around the hilt of his sword, a position that always helped him to feel grounded to the earth. It had been almost a year since they had stormed the castle to rescue Griffith from the king's dungeons. And in that time, his entire world had been turned on its axis.
When they had found Griffith in that hellhole of a prison, there had been nothing left of their brave, charismatic leader. He’d been beaten, tortured and destroyed beyond what anyone could endure. Yet somehow, he’d survived just long enough for the rescue party to return to the Hawks’ base camp.
With what little strength he’d possessed, Griffith had reached out for Casca's hand and placed it upon his own sword, silently transferring command of the Hawks to her. She held fast to his hand and nodded in acceptance, tears streaming down her cheeks. And thus, with the future of his warriors secured, the great Lord Griffith departed from the world of the living, his final breath resounding through the air. Only Casca wept openly, throwing herself on Griffith's still form, Guts kneeling behind her. The others stood around in stunned silence, unable to believe their fearless leader had been so tragically taken from them. In the midst of their grief, no one noticed that the red amulet Griffith always wore around his neck dissolved into ash and floated away on the gentle breeze.
Many of the men thought that Guts would take issue with his woman being chosen as the new leader of the Hawks. A few of them even suggested that, as the strongest and most seasoned warrior among them, he should be the one to take Griffith’s place. Guts had simply stepped behind Casca and placed a hand on her shoulder, indicating that he stood with her. After that, Casca became the unquestionable new leader of the Hawks.
Since then, the Hawks had been serving under Princess Charlotte as her own personal militia, removing the troublesome nobles who questioned her authority and helping to ensure her place on the throne. And finally, after nearly a year of constant struggles, they had secured Princess Charlotte as Queen of Midland, and even attained a small measure of peace for themselves. They didn't have the prestige or status that had once been granted to them by the king, but no longer were they hunted as traitors to the throne. A small price to pay for the lives of Griffith and the other soldiers who'd died in pursuit of their leader's murderers.
Shaking off such morbid thoughts, Guts rose to his feet and made his way through the rows of tents and bonfires, his massive sword swinging heavily at his back. A few of his men called out to him, holding out tankards of ale, inviting him to join in their revelry. He gave them a nod and kept moving until he reached the large tent at the center of the camp.
The storm of nervous energy that had abated in the heat of battle now returned to swirl inside his stomach and wrap itself around his heart. Guts set his sword aside and quietly removed his armor, coming to sit beside the makeshift pallet.
Casca was already asleep, one hand resting under her cheek. Her beautiful face, normally fierce and focused, was now calm and relaxed. She was a truly rare creature, a flower of beauty and strength in a world that didn’t understand her. Guts couldn’t even begin to describe what she meant to him. For so long, he had lived and died by his sword. It was the only reason he’d had to keep moving forward, always on the lookout for his next fight.
Now, Guts wanted her always by his side. She was a crucial part of this new journey, the one with whom he was destined to walk this new path. His gaze lingered on her sleeping visage a few moments longer. Then his thoughts drifted toward the unseen entity in the room.
He carefully pulled the blanket covering Casca until it rested just below her waist, revealing her swollen belly. Her free hand was cradling her rounded abdomen. Even in sleep, she was protecting their child from the dangers of the outside world. Guts could already see the mother she would become. One who would love and protect her child, even at the cost of her own life. Strengthen them and give them the courage to forge their own path.
But what kind of father would he be? The only father he’d ever known, the mercenary Gambino, had treated him more like a stray dog than a child. Harsh words and strong fists had been a constant presence throughout his childhood. Not something he would wish on anyone, least of all his own flesh and blood.
He reached out and carefully rested a shaky hand on her taut skin. A tiny foot or hand beat against his palm. He smirked, the corners of his mouth twitching into something resembling a smile. Boy or girl, he could already tell their child was going to be incredibly strong.
A gentle touch pulled him from his musings. He looked down and saw Casca’s hand covering his, her dark brown eyes locked on his own. She lumbered herself up to sit, turning her body so they were facing each other.
“What’s troubling you?” Guts didn’t answer, his eyes trained downward where their connected hands rested on the growing mound of their child.
“I think it’s a boy.” Guts’ head popped up.
“How do you know?” Casca shrugged her shoulders.
“It’s hard to explain, really. When I hear the men training, the echoing clanging of their swords, he rolls and jumps inside me. When I hold my sword, he kicks me so strongly. It’s as if he can’t wait to hold a sword and fight alongside the Hawks.” She gently squeezed his fingers. “And with you to train him, I know that he will become a great warrior.”
Guts’ heart twisted inside his chest. Such kind words were still so strange to his ears, even after all this time. "That might be the only thing that I can do for them." He gently pulled his hand away and turned away from her. “All I’ve ever known is battle. From the time I could stand, I’ve held a sword in my hands. I don’t know what it means to be a child, to look at the world with innocence and trust. What kind of father could I possibly be?”
His words rang through the air. Casca didn’t move to comfort him or say a word to contradict him. Guts was grateful to her for that. She knew some of his background, the sparse fragments he’d shared with her over the years. But he wasn’t sure he would ever tell her everything, for doing so could resurrect the feelings of fear and pain that had threatened to consume him so many years ago.
"Do you know why we're called the Band of the Hawks?" The question was so abrupt that it pulled Guts back to the present.
"Griffith and I were riding at the front one morning when a hawk dove right in front of his horse before soaring back up to the sky. Watching it fly, it seemed to me as though the bird was injured or ill, as it kept going in all different directions. Griffith pointed out to me that the bird was actually gliding along the different wind currents high above us. We couldn't see the winds, but the hawk could feel them, and altered its course to continue along the changing path. From then on, Griffith decided that we would be known as the Band of the Hawks; for like that hawk, we would align ourselves with the changing winds until we accomplished what we had set out to do.”
Casca hoisted herself up to her feet, her ungainly form making her movements slow and unsteady. Taking his hand again, she led him back to the tent’s opening and pushed aside the flap. The men were still celebrating their earlier victory, although many were beginning to take to their beds, fatigued by the combination of the day’s events and strong drink.
"Each of us are here today because of the twists and turns of fate that brought us to Griffith and the Hawks.” She took their joined hands and moved them to rest upon her rounded belly. “I never thought that I would become a mother, instead dedicating my life to Griffith and his dream. Now, when I think of the future, I can imagine our child by my side. Growing and laughing, looking up at the sky and dreaming of what their lives could be.” Casca gazed up at him, her eyes burning with the same passionate fire as when she was speaking to the Hawks before battle. “I can’t speak to how we will raise our child, as the future is never truly certain. I only know that they will be our child, and we will do everything in our power to love and teach them, giving them the strength to fight their own battles and take control of their destiny.”
At that moment, the child gave a strong kick, as if to make their presence known. Casca pulled her eyes away from Guts and gently stroked the taut skin of her belly, as if to soothe the child back to a peaceful sleep.
Guts looked out once more to the men gathered around the bonfires, each with their own unique origins. Judeau, the cunning knife fighter with a heart of gold; Pippin, the strong yet gentle giant; Corkus, the former bandit turned fighter with delusions of grandeur; and Rickert, the youngest among them but a true warrior with more courage than 10 men. From an outside perspective, they all together looked like quite the merry band of misfits. But together, in the heat of battle, there was no one else that Guts would rather have fighting by his side.
He thought back to the day Griffith had died. Heartbroken and dejected, many of the men had chosen to set down their weapons and leave the Hawks. While Casca had certainly proven herself to be a strong and capable leader, without Griffith's passion and determination, it seemed that the true spirit of the group had been lost. And yet, every one of the men in his regiment had stepped forward, pledging their swords and their loyalty to him. In all his life, Guts could never have imagined this for himself.
A position of authority. Men under his command who followed and respected him. A woman he loved more than his own life. And soon, a new child, a son or daughter. Someone to care for and protect, granting them a far better start in this life than he ever could have dreamed.
Guts felt the corners of his mouth life into a small smile. He pulled Casca against his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist. They stood together, ignoring the stares and whistles of the other Hawks. This new path of his life was unclear, and would no doubt have its fair share of challenges as well as blessings. But he knew that no matter what happened, with Casca and the remaining Hawks by his side, he would find the strength to follow the path that destiny laid out for him.