A Blaze in the Dark (A New Dawn #1)

Chapter 2 - Fox

The barn is filling quickly with corn and potatoes. In half a moon, the wheat will be ready for harvest too.

Dread filled his heart as he clambered ashore. Mother was standing in front of the smithy, her arms crossed in front of her chest. He didn't like it when she stood like that; it hid most of that pink apron of hers that made her look like a wild rose in a cornfield.

With full force, he kicked against a pebble that lay in his path. The stone shot into the air and crash-landed into a bigger rock a few feet further. Life wasn't fair. While Nick and Seb were still frantically hunting down a hare in the reed banks, playtime was officially over for him.

He grumbled. Why did Father have to be the only blacksmith in town? Sure, they never had to worry about what to eat, but he was sick of always being locked inside. Just once he wanted to play outside all day without any interruptions.

Using his dirty shirt, he wiped his body dry, leaving long brown stripes on his skin. At least he now looked like Laneby's warriors before the first hunt of the season.

"I'll try to come back later," he said but wasn't surprised when neither Nick nor Seb replied. He could never keep his promises because of Father, so why would his friends expect him to come back this time?

"Fox! I'm waiting for you, young man. Don't make me repeat myself," Mother shouted.

He stomped his feet on the ground, yelling so loudly his voice scratched his throat. "I heard you! I'm coming!"

"Stop making so much noise, muttonhead," Nick hissed, gesticulating wildly. "You're scaring all the animals away."

"Sorry." Fox tugged the semi-wet shirt over his head and jumped into his shorts. He pulled them back on.

Mother had moved closer. She was now standing with one hand on her hip and the other one holding a sandwich. Food!

He pushed his feet into his boots. Without tying them, he ran towards her like a real predator, almost tripping over his own feet as his right shoe loosened, and he nearly lost it along the way.

"Sweetling." Mother's long red hair swirled lightly as she shook her head. "Please fix your shoes. I don't want you to hurt your pretty face."

"I don't have a pretty face." He pouted, yet not even a heartbeat later he crouched down to make two sloppy knots in his mud-brown laces.

As he rose up, she handed him the fist-long sandwich stuffed with an orange filling. "Here, a sweet snack for my sweet boy."

"I'm not sweet," he said before sinking his teeth into the fresh prey; the bitter sugary taste of the marmalade filling his belly. Exactly what he needed after a good swim with his friends.

Mother gently ran her fingers through his hair, fussing over those stray locks that had a mind of their own. No matter what she did to tame them.

He jerked away from her. "Stop. Real warriors don't get groomed by their mothers."

"But they do enjoy their sandwiches, don't they?" Mother glanced at Amy, who was leaning against the oak brown wall of their house, on the opposite side of the smithy. His sister's uncharacteristically messy red hair bore a strange white tinge. Specks of a white power dotted her freckled nose. "Amy made the bread this time."

"Yours is better. She used too much flour." He smacked loudly as he took another bite. A little lie. He wouldn't have noticed if Mother hadn't told him.

Amy rolled her eyes at him. He stuck out his tongue. With a snort and a huff, she went back inside.

"Now, my sweet little firebug, why are you so grumpy today?" Mother's fingers ran across his cheek, careful not to touch his skin with her iron ring. He didn't like when she did that; it burnt.