As a child, a small child mind you, nothing more than a babbler. My Father would hold me in his big arms and tell me stories of his wondrous adventuring days. Being no more than a child I didn't quite understand his stories, but I would listen. I would listen with the ears of a howling wolf, in the dead night waiting for his fellows.
As I would listen he would go on and on. I loved to watch his face, the expression were like beautiful jewels in the mountains. Everyone more excited then the next. Although, I wasn't the only one to listen to these stories. Being the youngest of three from a young mother I would listen along side my Eldest Brother Jaden and my only sister Elizabeth.
My mother, a young age of 34 would sit along side my Father. Even though she was very sickly, she still loved my father and his stories. My Father would often say to her "Please, my dear Elizabeta you must rest." She would refuse of course, and with that she would give him a kiss and ask him to continue.
Although the times were peaceful it did not last. As years went by I grew older, and not only did I, my dear Mother and Father along with me. Mother’s sickness had yet to be cured, and in the days of silence we can only wait it sorrow. I not being one for silence, on good days am found to be in the streets and through the woods with my good friend Peter.
On a sunny afternoon I am out in the woods playing adventurer with him.
“So Dallin. How’s your Mum?” He would call me. I asked of him to call me by my middle name. I did not like my first name very much. There is only one person who is allowed to call me by such a name any how. That person is my Mother.
“Skye, would you mind bringing me that water vase?” She would call.
“Yes Mother.” I would hurry and get it. I loved to do things for her. Not because she was bedridden but because she was my mother.
“Thank you. You’re my baby boy. Don’t yo-” She would break out into another of her coughing fits and I would have to call for the maid. Father said I wasn’t to be around her when she coughed, or I would catch it too.
“She’s well.” I paused. “I suppose.”
Sensing the negative feeling coming from my direction he changed the subject.
“So.... Say! Won’t you be 15 this coming Monday?” He smiled big, hoping this would bring back my smile along with his.
“Yes. I will be.” I smiled back at him as his smile grew bigger.
“Good, you’ve become the Dallin I remember.” He chuckled his amusing laugh. “So, what would you like?” He asked anxiously.
I stopped in my tracks. “What would I like?” I pondered for a mere second. “My mother to become well again.”
Peter’s shoulders sunk down. “Yes I know, but I am no doctor.” He pouted. “Would you like something else?” His eyes widened a bit.
I stared into his green eyes as he stared back into my bright blue ones. “Would you mind,” I stopped to think. “If I got back to you on it?”
He smiled. “Not a problem. Now, back to our adventure.” He started to say. “Oh yea! Why don’t you tell me one of your Father’s stories?” He lit up with excitement.
“All right!” I lit up along with him. “So the story starts-”
Later that afternoon I made my way home. Walking into our large house I made my way up the marble stairs to visit Mother. I rounded the corner just after the stairs and was surprised by a slender figure that popped out of nowhere. It was a short, slender figure that I recognized right away.
