In A Boring Place

Chapter 2 - The Hunt

The first light of dawn crept over the eastern hills, its soft, golden rays spilling into the village of Carn. Snow blanketed the rooftops and winding cobblestone paths, capturing the sun's early warmth in glimmers of white and gold. Each thatched cottage, encased in morning frost, seemed to exhale as the light touched it, stirring the village awake in a gentle hush. The air held a faint chill, carrying the mingling scents of snow, pine, and the distant fires that flickered to life in hearths across the town.

Inside a modest, cozy room on the second floor of the tavern, Astria stirred as the sun's warm rays pierced through faded curtains. The roosters' calls outside blended with the faint murmur of leaves rustling in a soft breeze. He took a slow breath, letting the stillness settle around him before swinging his legs over the edge of his bed. This was the peace of morning—a moment when everything felt as it should.

Descending the creaky wooden staircase, Astria was welcomed by the comforting aroma of breakfast wafting from the kitchen.

"Good morning, dear," Elara, his mother, greeted him. Her smile was gentle, a familiar sight that never failed to set Astria at ease. "I was just about to call you down. Breakfast is on the table."

The wooden table, scarred from years of use, was laid with care, each plate and cup placed. In the center sat a steaming pot of mutton stew, its hearty aroma filling the room. A loaf of fresh bread rested nearby, its crust golden and inviting. Elara took her place calmly, while Astria's grandparents, Henri and Carmen, settled into their seats with quiet smiles. Despite his years, Henri retained a rugged vigor, his white hair cropped short and a wiry beard. Beside him, Carmen's silver hair was carefully braided, her slender frame. She had soft features and kind green eyes.

Astria sat in his chair beside his mother and across from his grandfather. His eyes drifted to the table, gaze fixed on the loaf of bread—a perfectly baked crust that begged for a taste. Hunger sparked mischief in his heart; prayers traditionally preceded the meal, but the anticipation of that first bite was an itch he yearned to scratch.

Henri raised his hand to signal for silence and the morning's prayer. Astria, heart pounding, had already slipped a small piece of bread into his palm. His mouth watered as he brought it to his lips, relishing its warmth—until his grandfather's words cut through the room. "Let us pray."

Astria stilled, cheeks reddening as he quickly stuffed the food into his mouth. The family's voices rose in solemn unity, the cadence of their prayer both ancient and comforting. As their words faded, Astria swallowed, feeling both the warmth of the bread and the warmth of their shared ritual.

Henri's gaze narrowed with playful suspicion. "Think I didn't notice you, boy?" His voice was gruff but carried a teasing lilt. "Always sneaking a bite. A fox, this one."

Astria grinned, shrugging nonchalantly as he chewed, then gave an exaggerated look of innocence. "I'm just making sure it's good enough for everyone, Grandfather. Quality control."

Elara chuckled, shaking her head as she took a serving of the steaming stew. "Your 'testing' seems to happen quite often."

Henri let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head. "Mischievous as they come, just like his father was," he said, reaching across the table to ruffle Astria's hair. "Don't let his quiet nature fool you," Henri added, glancing at Carmen with a smirk. "There's always something cooking up in that mind of his—probably scheming a way to skip firewood duty as we speak!"

Astria raised his hands in mock defense, a smile tugging at his lips. "I wouldn't dream of it, Grandfather!" He paused, then leaned forward with sudden earnestness. "Actually, Grandpa, could I come with you again today? To hunt?"

Henri raised a bushy brow, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "You want to join an old man on his rounds?"

"Yes! I want to improve my skills," Astria said eagerly.