An silva vas tra taraeo rona kopka (A travel we might never return from) (ENG)

Part 1

It was early morning, 18th of March, 1249. The birds sung and danced in the air as they built their nests in the cracks in the rocks of Kyl-Varnay, Winter Castle, better known as Kyl-Sovargu among the common peasants, the Castle of Wolves. The fortress was ancient, and summer green veins with big leaves crept over the stones, but it was well-maintained. Between the rocks were tiny windows, like eyes in the walls. The summer had begun peeking through the stained glass, throwing curious and colorful shades on the cold, heavy floors, made of as massive stone as the rest of the building. It was a very grand castle, perched elegantly on a mountain, as a raven perches on a twig. Even if it was a fortress of great magnitude and royalty, it was well-hidden behind mountains and trees, in the midst of the wild. The only path that would lead you there, was a tiny path that lead of the main road, a road muddy and wet from ages of horse carriage wheels.

Over the path, over the lake and between pine trees, over streams and up steep hills, and finally inside the castle, as heavy and majestic as the mountain itself - someone sneezed. The dust burrowed into his nose. Felýk, one of the mountain castle's inhabitants, of the Pennvaýn-heritage, the proudest hunter family on the entirety of the Continent. He was dusting the top of a fireplace, the dust whirling about him, colored rainbow by the lights from the windows far up there. He had to pause to wait for the dust to settle. "Parogaí", he wheezed. "No such foul language", his brother, Kirep, now sudden standing in the doorway, warned jokingly. Felýk stood still for a second to camouflage the fact that Kirep startled him. "Moron", Felýk said. "I don't understand why we oughta clean so much. We're leaving for the entire summer anyway".

"Principle, I guess", said Kirep and shrugged. "Help my move the sofa, though". Felýk happily left the dusty room and came with his brother into the burgundy-carpeted living room. "The big one?", Felýk said, doubt in his voice. "Shut up and help me move this thing", Kirep moaned from the weight of the sofa.

After the copper lion feet of the sofa had aimed in on their feet one too many times, and profanities had been uttered, the boys finally got the sofa where it was supposed to go. Kirep massaged his foot as their mother came in. Arda, was her name. Tall, with a long, brushed mane of hair swaying behind her back, hard, golden eyes and a quick walk. "You boys managed to move it?", she said, as if moving the sofa was the damn easiest thing in the world. "Sure", Kirep said, scowling at Felýk, who just rolled his eyes. "Okay. The living room needs dusting, Kirep, that's you, Felýk, continue dusting the other room". She pointed behind her shoulder. She pointed behind her. "And then," she teased, "you can finish packing your bags". The boys looked at each other, and  Felýk returned to his task.