Spirit Fire - Amos

Chapter 7 - The Traveler

I woke up to someone calling my name. As I sat up, my head started to throb and my muscles were tense.

     "Aaron, supper is ready!" Ma called from downstairs.

     Supper already? I grudgingly got out of bed and walked down stairs, through the living room, and into the dining room, where the rest of the family was . . . except Aunt Lucile.

     I sat down in the same spot I sat for lunch, at the end of the table closest to the back door and looked at my plate. There were mashed potatoes, corn, carrots and turkey with steaming-hot stuffing. Looking down again, my eyes felt bigger than my stomach. I had lost my appetite from the dream I had.

     "What's wrong Aaron? Is the turkey still moving on your plate?" My brother teased. He had most likely cooked the turkey while Ma made the vegetables and stuffing. His cooking was not that bad compared to our father's cooking, who was always away on trading routes.

     "I'm fine," I replied and addressed my plate.

     "Or are you gonna hit it with another rock?" he teased some more, chuckling to himself.

     I ignored him and lifted a fork full of potatoes and corn took a bite, pleasingly soft and flavourful. Ma had always put special spices in the vegetables. Then, I stabbed the slice of turkey on my plate and started sawing off a chunk with my serrated knife.

     As I ate, it felt as if I was being watched, and when I looked up from my plate, everyone was looking at me.

     "Yes?" I said uncomfortably.

     Everyone just smiled and went back to eating. I must have been eating different from usual, so I slowed down and took another bite.

     Suddenly, I realized once again that Aunty was missing from the table, where a plate of food sat and an empty chair. I looked around, thinking there must be a reasonable explanation, but as I searched, she was not in the kitchen, nor the living room when I came down from my room.

     Where is she?

     "Has anyone seen Aunt Lucy?" I blurted, not realizing the tone of my voice.

     Everyone stopped and gaped at me, as if they have never heard of her before, but just as I was about to say something again I heard a familiar voice call out from another room.

     "Right here, dear! I was just getting myself all cleaned up from the spill." My Aunt said as she came out from a room behind the kitchen, through a doorway in the back left corner. She came in, sat down as if she had always been there, and started eating.

     What spill? I thought. "No one said anything about a spill?"

     "Oh, that's because it was only a minor slip with a pot of soup, Aaron. No need to worry." She smiled and urged everyone to carry on.

     After everything was finished and put away, Alan asked me if he could hunt with me the next time I went out. I looked at him with a questioning look.

     "I've saved up enough money to buy a new bow, and—" he started, but I cut in.

     "Since when do you want to hunt?"

     "I've never had a problem with it, just was never interested 'til now. It's better to learn now, that way I have at least a chance at surviving on my own."

     Everyone stopped and turned to him. Surviving on his own?

     "I don't know if you're really the type to hunt, but if that's what you really want, I'll teach you when I get some time, I haven't been able to catch anything big lately," I explained and sat down in the living room, Alan sitting next to me on the couch. 

In the living room, there were chairs, wooden frames intricately engraved and brown leather seats. A couch, also made of wood, but covered with leather and wool cushions under the seats. Under our feet, or stockings, was lacquered hardwood floors, cherry red. The walls were antique pine. In front of us, sat a small table with two candles and a metal jug of water in the middle. In the opposite wall, sat the stone fireplace. In it, now only a small flame licking at a single log.

"I've been practicing with your old bow, from when we were kids. I'm pretty good at target practice in my opinion." Alan stated, continuing our conversation.

     I looked around, watching Ma go back and forth through the kitchen and dining room cleaning the table and floors. She stressed about every speck of dirt at times. Aunty was also gone again, probably back in that room in the corner, on the opposite side of the wall with the fireplace. Her room I believe, although I have never seen it.

     I returned to my brother asking, "How far?"

     "What?" he looked at me, puzzled.

     "How far can you shoot?"

     "My longest was about . . . ten yards or so. Why?"

     "That's not far enough if you want to hunt." I said, and then paused. "Then again, you were using weak bow."

     Silence between us. Even Ma had stopped and had gone somewhere else, probably her room or had gone to do the laundry. I sighed and watched the fire. The small yellow flame slowly swaying back and forth, licking at the charred wood, an almost hypnotic motion.

     Time seemed to slow down, seconds feeling like minutes, minutes like hours, but then we began to hear horse's hooves clopping. The sound faint, but rising from outside.

     I looked at Alan, checking to see if he heard it too. "Could that be . . . ?" I started.

     We both shot up, pushing and grabbing at each other, trying to get outside first but making no more headway than if we both walked. Once outside, we both stood at the edge of the cobble road and stared at the hill, waiting for the traveler, our long expected visitor, to come over the top. Shortly after, we saw a horse, followed by a cart with a man dressed in black on it.

     We both stood, squinting and leaning to get a better view of the man. Once it was down the hill, we ran up and greeted the traveler, shouting and calling greetings.

     The man with a black coat stopped the carriage, a few yards short of the lane to the house, stood up and took his black, short brimmed hat off, revealing his worn, unshaved face. Sparkling blue eyes meeting mine. "Hello, Aaron. Alan. Great to see you again boys!"

     Returning his greeting, we both eagerly waited for him to get down from the cart. Once down, we embraced in a long, dearly needed hug.

     "It's great to see you again, father!" we said simultaneously.