The story passed from mouth to mouth. With each rendition, it changed subtly. The swaggering bully in the tavern became an evil baron or, sometimes, a dragon. But I remained myself, the unitary hero. The minor variations blended in as wrinkles, which faded with time.

Then my story reached the land of the river people. They are less keen on heroes. The tale branched, and now there were two of us. I met him, barring my way at the ford. How to win against myself?

Think! Truculence is my besetting sin. And his. I stepped to the side. “After you.”

.

Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Wisoff Fields to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here