As I sat on the ground with Sophia working on the wound in my back, I examined the knife blade, the cross and the book. Willow sat beside me and watched as my mind worked on the problem, my legacy lay in the palm of my hand literally. I set my knife aside for the moment and looked at her cross. It wasn't your typical cross you would buy in any store today. It had been given to her when her Aunt Sandy had been killed in a car crash. The cross part itself was about four inches square but it was the wicked looking sickle below that, that added...