The following morning, as Henry was still sleeping off the previous night's events, he once again heard the sound of his son screaming for him outside.
"Pa!" Deacon yelled out, completely unfazed from the previous beatings he had taken. "Come out and fight me!"
"Again? You gotta be shitting me!" the hungover Henry said as he grabbed a swig of his whiskey to stave off the shakes and headache. He lumbered over to a window to stare out when he saw his wife standing in a corner and chuckling to herself.
"What's so funny?" Henry asked, trying to intimidate his wife.
Sonja giggled more loudly this time. "What? He's standing up to you as a man, right?" She mocked. "Go handle your business Mr. Man."
Henry growled angrily at his wife before going out to meet his son again. As Henry walked toward Deacon, he tried to hide his limp from the kick his son had given him the night before, not wanting Deacon to notice any weakness.
"Alright, kid." Henry looked at his son cautiously, dirty and covered In minor scrapes and bruises, like he fell down rather than got in a fight with a grown man. "What's the end goal here, huh? What's the point of all this?"
Deacon just stared intently at his father as he started to crack his knuckles. "You apologize to Ma." Deacon then began to crack his neck. "You stop drinking that gross stuff." He then rolled his shoulder blades and they cracked as well. "And you never lay a finger on either of us ever again." Deacon pointed his finger at his father defiantly as he called him out. "That's my goal!"
"Deacon," Sonja said to herself as she watched from the balcony of the house. As scared as she was for her son, she couldn't help but be proud of how headstrong he was.
As reasonable as those requests may have sounded, Henry began to bubble up in an alcohol fueled rage. "You ungrateful shit! I slave away all day, working for this family, while making peanuts. And what do I get in return? A useless wife and a disrespectful brat that thinks he can bully me around in my own home!"
"Ya done?" Deacon asked defiantly. "You gonna cry? Or you gonna fight?"
Sonja couldn't help herself. Unafraid of any retaliation from her husband, she cackled loudly for everyone to hear. This infuriated Henry while it gave Deacon a burst of energy.
"I'm gonna shut you up for good. The disrespect ends today."
"You're only right about one of those things." Deacon retorted. "This ends today."
Henry charged at his son, hoping to put him down with one mighty punch. He swung wildly as Deacon sidestepped the attack and threw a punch of his own. Henry quickly moved his arm to guard against the punch and he felt a heavy wallop against his elbow. Had the punch connected, Henry would be looking at some broken ribs. Henry countered with a heavy uppercut that connected with Deacon's jaw. The punch sent the boy stepping backwards, but he shook his head and wiped the blood off. Seeing that his punch barely had an effect, Henry tried to double down with a right hook, but Deacon ducked under and grabbed a hold of his arm. With one mighty tug, Deacon managed to pull his father down and slam him face first. The force of the pull was too much for even Henry to try and pull free.
"Had enough?" Deacon taunted as he stood over his father.
Henry was not ready to sacrifice his pride. He immediately retaliated with a thrust of his leg, kicking Deacon squarely in the face and knocking him on his ass. Deacon just angrily wiped the blood from his nose and got back to his feet, also letting his father get up.
"I've had enough of this bullshit." Henry said dizzily as he tried to get back up to his feet.
"So you give up?" Deacon asked hopefully.
Henry said nothing as he rushed to his son and wrapped his fingers around his throat before lifting him off the ground, choking him midair. Henry watched coldly as his son's face began to change from tan, to purple, to blue. This only fueled him to squeeze harder.
"You are weak." Henry told him as he watched the light leave his eyes. "And weak men don't get a say in anything in this world."
Deacon tried to break free but he couldn't. Even with his newfound strength, the difference in strength between the four year old and the grown man was still apparent. But Deacon refused to die. He looked over at his mother who was covering her mouth, but wasn't looking away. He promised her and she still believes in him.
"That's not true, I'm strong!" He gargled. "I'll show you just how strong I am!"
With those words, Deacon grabbed his father's wrists and squeezed them, trying to pry them off his throat but his father put his back into his grip. Deacon kept squeezing, using all his might to try to break free. That's when Henry noticed a subtle, shimmering light begin to materialize on Deacon's face. As the light sparkled, Henry could feel Deacon's grip on his forearms get stronger and stronger before it felt like a vice grip on his bones. He felt his forearms fracture under the weight of Deacon's grip and it caused him to let go of his son's throat.
Deacon landed on his feet in front of his father, but he didn't waste any time gasping for air. He reeled his foot back and planted a heavy kick right into his father's groin.
Henry screeched as he lost all feeling in his legs and he kneeled over on the floor, now closer to Deacon's height.
"Take this!" Deacon yelled with a raspy voice as he wound his fist back and threw a sloppy punch.
Deacon's knuckles slammed into Henry's cheeks as teeth and blood spilled out of Henry's mouth. The force of the punch was enough to knock him down as he was laid out on the front lawn.
Sonja could barely believe her own eyes, but they weren't playing any tricks on her. Deacon had won. Sonja rushed over to her son and grabbed him into a big hug. Deacon ran into her arms and the two gave cheerful, tear-filled laughs of joy. The celebration would be cut short however, when Deacon noticed his father trying to crawl away.
"Hey Pa!" Deacon yelled out. "You gonna apologize or what?"
Henry stopped in his tracks, and turned around to shamefully face his wife and son. When he saw Deacon's face however, he sobered up immediately. Planted in the middle of his son's cheek was a small star tattoo.
"He really did eat the Mother's Cap," Henry thought. It was that moment he knew that nothing would ever be the same in the house. He had a choice to either keep fighting this change and losing, run away, or just accept it. "I… I'm sorry."
While this was Deacon's goal, he never fully expected to hear those words come from his father's mouth. Deacon studied Henry's face, scanning for any insincerity.
"I'm pathetic. Weak. I never thought my life would end up the way it is, and its entirely my fault. I was unhappy, and I took it out on you two, because you loved me when I didn't see myself as someone worthy of love."
"Henry." Sonja said as she held her hand to her mouth to stop herself from crying.
"I had to toil away, trying to build a life for us all and was getting nowhere. That damn mushroom wasn't yielding any results and I thought this miserable life was what I was stuck with. I hated it. I hated you, both of you." Henry began to tremble on his hands and knees as tears streamed down from his eyes and nostrils. "I don't deserve your forgiveness. I'm a failure, a monster, a drunk. I'm sorry!"
Deacon climbed down from his mother's arms and slowly approached Henry, who was still groveling on the floor. Without saying a word, he pulled his father in for a hug that completely dumbfounded Henry.
"Just stop being mean, and I won't have to fight you ever again." Deacon said as he held his father tight.
Henry could feel his son trembling in his arms. Deacon was trying to hold it in but it finally exploded. He cried loudly and uncontrollably as he buried his face in Henry's chest.
"I didn't want to fight you, Pa. Honest. I didn't have a choice."
"I know, my boy." Henry said as he held his son tighter and he cried uncontrollably. "Thank you for being strong enough for us all."
Sonja was overjoyed as she saw her husband and son finally getting along. She jumped into the hug to join them both and the three held each other and cried.
From then on, Henry swore off alcohol and promised never to lay a hand on either of them again. Not that he'd even be able to anymore, with Deacon's newfound strength. That wasn't the only change Henry had decided on, either. Soon after everyone reconciled, Henry had his wife and child pack up their bags and loaded them onto a carriage. Deacon and his mother watched curiously as before they set off, Henry took a torch to their old home and set it ablaze.
"Ma, are we moving because of me?" Deacon asked his mother as the light and heat from the fire became more intense.
"No, Deacon. We're moving thanks to you." She said with a cheerful smile. "You saved us."
Deacon returned the smile and gave her another big hug. "I love you, ma."
"I love you too sweety. Now wake up."
"Huh? I am awake." Deacon raised an eyebrow.
"Wake up." she said again, this time her voice getting more monotone.
"What are you talking about, ma?"
"Wake up." Her voice turned into a raspy unrecognizable voice and she slapped Deacon across the face.
"Hey!"
"Wake up. Wake up. Wake up." She repeated, slapping Deacon each time.
"Knock it off!" Deacon yelled angrily as his eyes opened and he snapped back to reality.
"Ack!" Deacon saw an old man fall backwards as he was startled by the sudden outburst.
Deacon looked around. He was back in the forest where he had fallen. He tried to move, but he was pinned to a tree, his own lasso securing him tightly. The short old man he had startled got back to his feet and faced Deacon.
"Who are you?" Deacon asked. Still trying to gather his bearings.
"I'm the guy that shot ya." Old man Sharp replied. Those words helped Deacon remember where he was and what he was doing. "And who are you?"
"I'm the guy you shot." Deacon shrugged. "Where's my friend, and that other guy?"
Sharp rolled his eyes, "they ran deeper in the reservation. I was going to chase after them when I noticed you were twitching. Once I saw you were still alive, I decided to tie you up."
"Ah. I see." Deacon said as he looked around curiously.
"Normally people don't survive getting shot in the head. I'm assuming it has something to do with those stars on your face."
"Oh. My lucky stars? Probably." Deacon said casually.
"Alright." Sharp sighed as he held the bridge of his nose. Deacon was starting to frustrate him. "What are you doing here?"
"Heard trouble. Thought I'd help." Deacon answered.
"That's not an answer!" Sharp yelled. "Look kid, you poked your nose in the middle of a Ranger operation, that's technically treason."
"Eh, wouldn't be the first time."
"Stupid kid." Sharp said to himself. "Whatever, either way General Stonewall will want a word with you."
"Stonewall, huh? So that's the guy I have to beat up?" Deacon squinted his eyes like he was trying to commit the name to memory.
"You're not beating anyone up, kid." Sharp said. "Or did you forget that you're tied to a tree?"
"You're right." Deacon said. "And it's my cowboy rope too so I won't be breaking it."
Sharp just chuckled to himself as the boy seemed to finally realize the trouble he was in.
"Still." Deacon said as he remembered back to Mako crawling through the forest and begging for help. "I told that man earlier that I'd help him. And I intend to keep my word."
"Hah! You mean Mako, he was always dramatic. Always bringing other people into his nonsense. Are you really prepared to die over some weakling's cries?"
"Is Stonewall?" Deacon said with a cheeky smile.
"You cocky kid," Sharp said as he pointed his rifle.
Deacon planted his feet into the ground and he began to push up from them as hard as he could.
"The hell are you doing?" Old man sharp asked as he tilted his head curiously.
Deacon kept pushing up with his legs, veins protruding from his forehead as he put all his effort into it. Sharp could see his face begin to shimmer subtly and the ground under him began to rumble.
"What's going on?" Sharp asked in disbelief as Deacon's pushes managed to start pulling the tree he was tied on out of the ground, exposing its roots.
Sharp tried to aim his gun at Deacon, but the roots ran deep. The ground shifted under him, making him unable to get a clean shot in. Soon, a root popped out of the ground and snapped away from Deacon's tree, slapping Sharp across the face and knocking him to the ground
Deacon kept pulling and pulling until finally the deepest root was now exposed. With the tree still on his back, he spun around rapidly until the trunk snapped free of its roots. Deacon was still tied to the tree, but it was no longer planted in the ground.
"What the hell?" Sharp groaned as he tried to shake off the blow he just took.
"Alright, so which way?" Deacon asked to himself as he wiggled his ears around. He could hear the sound of gunshots, blades clinging against each other, and the screams of men fighting for their lives. "That way." Deacon said eagerly as he bent forward so the top of the tree pointed at the direction he wanted to go, and he sprinted towards the noise. The residual roots scooped up Sharp and dragged him along, as the two made their way to the battlefield.