"I'm going out, mother." I call.
She doesn't respond. Father's death has taken it's toll on the whole family, leaves us bitter. I've coped amazingly well, we were always close, I always told him all of my secrets. Well, most of them anyways.
I step out the door into the warm July air. Six years have passed since we moved back, and the field that was once charred, is now lush and green. To the right of my house lies my father's workshop, where I keep my bow and arrows. When I try to open the door, I can tell it's been bolted from the inside. I lower my head sadly.
"Charles, come one, let me in please?"
"No," comes Charles' muffled voice from behind the door, "you're not supposed to be here."
"Well, neither are you," I point out.
Charles doesn't answer.
He's right. When father died, mother got all of his things, threw them in the shed, and forbade us to go anywhere near it. But he's my father, and I don't think she has much of a right to prohibit any of us from going in his shed. Anyway, he'd want me to go.
"Do you want some venison? Or maybe some rabbits. Sound good? Come on, Charles, we haven't had meat for ages."
There is a small silence, then a thunk as the bolt slides and the door opens. Charles' eyes are red and puffy, but for his sake, I ignore them. He's been through so much in five years. My father's death and my mother's slow decline. My brother is married, with a daughter, Gabriel, born this Spring. He'll turn 22 in December, so, naturally, it is hard to keep my family's home. Especially, since our new king came to rule.
When our previous king died, around when I was born, it was up to The Council to choose an heir from his triplets, two sons and one daughter, born on the same day. The obvious choice was the second born, Roderick. He could turn a country with his words, had friendly relationships with the neighboring kingdoms, and was the King's right hand man. When they chose the third born, Dragomir. He was just about the opposite of his brother, never seen, and was rumored to be very cunning and manipulative. When he was crowned king, he was just as nice as the rumours about him. His brother, Roderick, had a bad bowl of mushroom soup, and the Elsa, mysteriously dissapeared without a trace one day. Of course everybody supected the new hard faced, violent, moody king. Two years after he was crowned, vicious new tax laws were proposed. All we have to support us is the small farm. My mother and I do our best, but we really can't do it without our neighbors.They come over with food, and offer help with the farm. My father was greatly respected, he helped a lot of people, and it's thanks to him we're still alive.
"Can I help you? I'm getting good with the bow."
"No, sorry," I say. I want to visit Saphira. "Maybe you can help tommorow."
"Why don't you ever take me? I'm not stupid!"
"Charles I know you're not stupid, in fact, but I really need to be alone right now," I pleaded, taking his hand.
Charles kicked the shed in anger, and ran away. I sighed. There is no use running after him. I walk into the shed. To the right are my father's things, they used to be piled up, but I see Charles has been busy. Dad's clothes are folded up neatly and his conditioned leather boots stand beside them. on the dustless table. All the equipment is nice and shiny, the rust off of every one. Charles was in the middle of sweeping the floors when I interrupted him. I look at my side, all dirty, and it seems very out of place.
I grab my bow, and step out of my big, heavy farming boots and into my soft deerskin leather ones. Ah, so comfortable. I pad out of the shed silently, and run like demons are at my heels southeast toward the forest, until I'm in a large clearing about a mile or so from my village. Hunting day! Every bone in my body is alive with excitement, I'm on my toes. The sky is gray and sad, but the air smells of rain and life. I can hear two song bird somewhere in back of me. It is beautful.
