Flight of Frost and Aurora

Chapter 3

Vagatha felt a thrill of excitement as she gazed down at the sprawling fields and orchards below. "I'll take care of the trees and crops," she declared, her spirit ignited by the beauty of nature. With a graceful wave of her hand, she coaxed the leaves into their autumnal colors, transforming the landscape into a vibrant tapestry of gold, crimson, and amber.

As she worked, Vagatha couldn't help but observe the villagers as they went about their lives. She marveled at how they gathered around tables, sharing laughter and stories, their hands busy with preparations for the harvest festival. The warmth of their camaraderie filled her heart, and she felt a deep connection to the world below.

She especially loved watching the children, perhaps because being child herself, was able to relate to their carefree spirits more than to the adults. She watched them climb trees, pick apples, and leap into piles of leaves, playing all sorts of imaginative games. How she wished she could join in, but she remained an invisible observer.

Then, her gaze fell upon two boys sneaking off into the woods, one of them clutching a musket. Vagatha had seen young boys go hunting before, but these two seemed too young to be venturing out alone, especially without their fathers. Sensing trouble, she decided to follow them.

"But Augusto," the younger boy complained to the older one, "I don't want to go hunting. I want to go home and help Molly make preserves."

"Oh, stop whining, Anthony," the older boy replied dismissively. "We're men, and men do the hunting while women do the cooking."

"We're not men! We don't even have hair down there yet!"

Vagatha blushed and stifled a giggle at the comment.

"What are we even hunting for, anyway?" Anthony asked.

"A wild pig," Augusto said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Just think of how proud Father will be when we bring home a big, fat pig for supper. And on our first hunt!"

"A pig? Are you crazy? We can't go after one of those! They're huge compared to us! And I've heard they're meaner than wolves."

"Oh, don't be such a baby. Besides, I'm not stupid enough to go after a pig head-on. I've set up some traps for the porker."

"Do they actually work?"

"Yes!" he snapped, annoyance creeping into his voice.

As they approached a clearing, Vagatha could see the traps Augusto had set—simple but effective snares made from branches and vines.

"Augusto, what if the pig gets angry?" Anthony's voice trembled slightly. "What if it charges at us?"

"Then I shoot it, duh!"

"Yeah right, you couldn't hit the side of a barn!"

"Just be quiet already! You'll scare off dinner!"

The boys settled into a tense silence, the air thick with anticipation as they waited for something—anything—to stir in the underbrush. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours until finally, a rustling sound broke the stillness. Vagatha's eyes widened as she watched one of the snares jerk violently. Augusto's face lit up with a mix of excitement and triumph.

"I told you it would work!" he exclaimed, rushing toward the trap. Vagatha followed closely, her heart pounding. As they approached, she realized that the trap had caught not a wild pig, but a small, trembling piglet. It squealed in distress, its tiny body wriggling helplessly in the snare.

"Look at that! We got one!" Augusto shouted, his eyes gleaming with pride. "We'll take it home and show Father!"

"No, we can't," Anthony protested. "It's just a baby. Too small. It won't even feed us!"