Soup Spoon |Discontinued|

| Ch. 1: A Chicken's Silver "Egg" |

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            Sampson laces his boots up on the front porch stairs with excited vigor, a wide smile etched into his  face as he readies himself for his first day of school. His books, lunch, and writing slab were already beside him in a neat stack, bound securely in his hand-me-down leather belt, and he'd already ironed and folded his best day clothes the night before so that now there wasn't a wrinkle in sight on his white button-up shirt and dark brown trousers. At the creaking sound of the front door opening behind him, Sampson turns to look up at his eldest sister Adelaide, the sleeves of her dress already rolled up and her honey-blonde hair thrown in a bun with a simple lace to start the days house chores. 
            "You behave yourself today, young man. I know you'll do great." With a soft smile, she bends down to give him a peck on the top of his head, before she thrusts the basket in her hands at him. "But before you go, could you please gather the eggs from the chicken coop for me? I have Deirdre washing linens, and Aiden is out back chopping fire wood."
            "I guess a new scholar such as myself could take a short minute away from my studies to help out my dear sister," Sampson stands, taking off his hat with a flourish to reveal a mess of curly blonde hair beneath, before holding it against his chest and bowing to Adelaide at the waist, who gives him a small giggle. "I'll be right back."
            Stuffing his brown hat back onto his head, he sets off towards the clucking chicken coop, basket swinging in his hand as he starts a delightful hum. Ducking under the short entrance to the coop, he carefully steps over one of the hens to the rack of nests in the back where a collection of spotted brown eggs already awaits him for collecting. 
            "Well ladies, you've really outdone yourselves today haven't you?" He grins as he begins to grab them, setting them gently in the basket looped over his elbow. "Excuse me little miss, if you wouldn't mind letting me grab the fruits of your labor-- ow!"
            Only one hen was sitting in her nest, and she was defending it like it was the last thing she'd ever do. No matter how many times he attempts to shoo her our, pick her up, or reach under her, she was plucking him with the fervor of someone out for murder. Finally, Sampson sets the basket down and picks her up with both hands on her sides, before gently tossing her out towards the door. She lands with a graceful flutter of the wings and a disgruntled set of squawks before hobbling out of the coop and leaving him be at last.
            Shaking the pain from his hand with a hiss, Sampson turns to collect her eggs only to see that none await him. Instead, a small, silver and gold ring sits in the center of her nest, obscured partially by hay and feathers.
            "Well then, someone's a little thief, aren't they?" Eyes wide, Sam gently picks it up to inspect, only to be even more taken aback by the intricacy of it's design. 
            The structure of the ring itself was made up of tiny silver vines and bark, woven and intertwined around a gold center band in complex patterns before meeting in a circlet at the top, surrounded by the tiniest of grooved leaves. Set in the circle was a dazzling green emerald cut to perfection, close to the color of Sampson's own eyes, if a bit darker. Letting loose a shaky breathe he didn't know he'd been holding, Sam looks back at the farm house through the small coop doorway, before looking back at the dazzling ring in his hand, uncertain on what to do. 
            'I can always tell them about it when I get home... there's no harm in having a good luck charm on my first day.'  He thinks, before nodding to himself and pocketing the ring.  
            With the piece of jewelry a comforting weight in his pocket, Sampson practically skips out of the chicken coop and back towards the main house. Only when he was halfway across the snow-covered yard did he realize he forgot the eggs, the whole reason he went in there, and he turned around and hurried back to fetch the basket with a blush staining his ears a rose red. When he finally makes it back to the front door, pulling it open with another loud creak, he was once again humming his little tune, setting the basket of eggs down on the counter beside Adelaide, who was furiously mixing something in a large wooden bowl.
            "Certainly took you long enough," She pokes at him, an eyebrow raised. "Did they send you on a wild chicken chase?"
            "Hah hah, very funny," Sampson rolls his eyes and before quickly dipping a finger into whatever she's mixing, making her gasp in distate. With a wide grin, he dabs it on the end of her nose before scurrying out of the kitchen before her wooden spoon could find a place to land on his person. "I'm going to be lateforschoolgoodbye!"
            On his way out the door, he could hear her shouting expletives at him, only for their grandmother to admonish her from upstairs. Scooping up his belted books from the front porch step where he'd left them, Sam sets off into the yard with a wider grin than he'd had before. Giving a wave to his grandfather in the barn as he passes, the boy makes his way towards the thin dirt road at the edge of the property, jumping over the old white fence instead of simply opening the gate. 
            Sampson couldn't help but feel butterflies in his stomach at the thought of what awaits him at the school house. He'd always been home schooled by his father, so he'd never had much in the way of friends that weren't neighbors or extended family. Not to mention this was the first time he'd be taught with girls alongside boys.
            When he was younger and still wore dresses and the like, he was taught with with his sisters by their mother. All manner of things about keeping house, basic Maths and Reading, sewing, knitting, and many other things he still uses to his advantage this day. Then when he'd realized who he truly was, and had fully explained how he felt to his mother and father, they allowed him to cut his hair, wear trousers, and start his schooling with his brother Aiden. His father had taught him and Aiden how to do farm work, hunting and trapping, how to ride a horse, and other things whilst continuing to teach them Maths and English and the like, but adding lessons on science and history. His father was a teacher after all, and could offer them a lot more than their mother could.
            Shaking thoughts of his father out of his mind in an attempt to keep himself excited, Sampson instead tries to focus on where he's going. His grandfather had told him the directions to the schoolhouse the evening before, drilling it into his head so as to not waste parchment by writing it down. It was only about a thirty minute walk if you were fast, one that Sam thought he'd enjoy every day before school. He'd always liked the quiet of the woods; it was an appreciated break from the loud household full of siblings, the farm full of livestock, and the city full of carts and shouting people. The woods were a sanctuary; a reprieve. 
            Now though, after the dreams resurfaced after all of this time, they were once again a source of mystery and questions. Looking about him, there didn't seem to be anything particularly strange or eccentrically beautiful about these woods; just trees, shrubs, and the occasional bird or squirrel here and there. They were nice, but completely and utterly normal. 
            Or so he thought, until he rounded a bend in the road and saw someone not even five feet ahead of him trip and eat dirt. Surprised, Sampson almost laughs for a moment in shock, but he somehow composes himself and rushes forward to give them a hand. 
            "Hey there, you okay? That was quite the fall," Sampson holds his books against his side with one hand, extending another to the boy on the ground before him. "And that's coming from me. I'm the clumsiest person I know."
            The boy, who'd had his head towards the ground the whole time trying to wipe the dirt off of his face, looked up suddenly at Sampson, and what the blonde saw on his face took his breath away. Warm brown eyes the color of soil-- no, it was lighter than that, like the chocolate filling in the pastry puffs his mother used to make before she fell ill. Framing those eyes was unruly, ruddy brown hair spilling out onto his forehead past a bright red  knitted cap, as well as thick eyebrows and lashes. The shadows cast from the trees above gave definition to a sharp, lightly curving jawline, and that was probably the last nail in Sampson's coffin as the boy gave him a grin and took his hand.
            "Thank you for the assistance. I was... preoccupied." The boy dusted off his clothes and bent down to pick something up off the ground. Sampson only caught the flash of something silver before he was already shoving it back in his pocket, turning back to the shorter of the two to give him a curious look. 
           "I don't think I've ever seen you around here before," Giving him a once over, the brunette turns back towards the road and begins walking once more, Sampson only a step behind him. "Can I have your name?"
           "Of course not! Hasn't your mother ever told you not to give your name to strangers?" Sampson chuckles to himself, before putting on a very terrible-sounding high pitched voice, his own having grown too deep with practice for it to sound womanly. "'They may be bandits, or slavers, or even fae!' It's uh, it's a bit silly, but you can call me--"
           "That's lovely." The boy mutters and cuts his little ramble short, and only now does Sampson notice the tension in his shoulders that wasn't there before. Maybe he shouldn't have brought up parents, or some other thing? He didn't know the boy's home situation, or anything else about him for that matter. It was best to just drop it.
            They walk in silence for a short bit, the taller boy always a step ahead or two due to his height, but this gave Sampson ample time to take in his appearance from the little side glances he kept sneaking the brunette's way. The boy wore well kept clothes; a pair of dark blue overalls with shiny buttons, a wrinkle-free black long sleeved shirt, and a thick green canvas coat that seemed to be doing a good job of keeping out the cold, as the boy didn't shiver once the entire time Sampson watched him. A pair of nice black leather boots crunched alongside Sam's own worn brown ones in the frozen dirt, and the knitted red cap that Sam now realized was made to resemble a mushroom sheltered and concealed the tips of his ears from the cold.
            There were quite a few necklaces dangling around the boys neck, dazzling lockets and charms polished to shine in the morning light, and he had just about as many rings on his fingers. He must be from a well-off family of some kind, or a collector; maybe the son of a pawn broker in town? What really caught Sampson's attention though, was that the boy's ear lobes were pierced. It would be considered scandalous with anyone else that the boy wore jewelry in his ears like a pirate in one of the many books he had read, but Sam didn't mind it one bit. It oddly suited his appearance, and Sampson knew all too well of what was considered scandalous or not, and didn't care for the preset rules. 
            When a fork in the path came, and they both took a left, Sampson decides it's time to strike up some conversation yet again.
            "So, where are you headed? Are you going to the school as well?" Sampson asks, even though he'd already noticed the boy's lack of any bag or books.
            The boy glances at him out of the corner of his eye, before looking back at the road and saying "No, I don't go to school. I'm going to a dance."
            Once again, Sampson is taken aback. It takes him a second to reply, but when he does he asks "A-A dance? At..." Fishing out his father's old pocket watch, one of his only treasures, he squints down at it to look at the time. "Seven thirty in the morning?"
            "It's... a special dance. I have to attend, even if I would much rather sleep for the next three moons." When he looks back up, the boy's rich brown eyes are fixated on his pocket watch. When he catches Sampson staring, his gaze immediately flits away and he clears his throat. Sampson bites the inside of his cheek and quickly puts the watch away.
             Something about the boy was strange; the way he acts, how he holds himself, and even the way he speaks makes Sam's head buzz with all kinds of questions. He talks as though his tongue isn't supposed to be able to say the words it does, and yet he does so fluently and eccentrically that Sampson is absolutely enraptured.
            "Well if that's the case, could I come to this 'special' dance?" Sampson finds himself blurting out without a second thought, and when he sees the boy's bewildered eyes and raised brow glance towards him he knew he had said something he shouldn't have. Not to mention, he had already said he's on his way to school.
            "It's not for you." Is all the boy says, his pace picking up as he gets a bit ahead of Sampson.
            "But I--" Sampson starts, only for the boy to whirl around with eyes blazing angrily.
            "I said it's not for you! Silence your incessant prattling!" The boy practically snarls, taking a far too-fast step forward, and Sampson flinches away at the unnatural movement, freezing in his tracks.
            Then the anger was gone almost as soon as it had come, a fast switch of emotions that left Sampson's head reeling. The tension in his shoulders drops, the snarl melts off of his face, and his eyebrows angle up in regret, all in the span of a few seconds.
            "I... I'm sorry for the hostility. I'm a bit out of sorts today, I um..." He holds up his hand, where there's almost a ring on every finger. "I lost my favorite ring yesterday evening, and I haven't been able to find it since. It's just got me out of sorts." He sighs and ducks his head.
            The ring in Sampson's trousers felt as though it was burning a hole through his pocket. For a moment, only a moment, Sampson thought of keeping the ring; of taking it as an unknown payment for the boy's rude attitude towards him when he'd done nothing but help. He obviously had plenty enough already, as well as a ton of nice necklaces and clothes.
            He'd apologized though, and was simply having a rough time. With no more thought on it, Sampson fished out the beautiful ring he'd found in his chicken coop earlier that morning. 
            "You're alright, I can understand how frustrating it is to lose something you cared deeply about. I actually... I actually found a ring this morning," Pulling it out, Sam raises it up to the morning light so that the green emerald within gleams where it's set within the gold. "Is this one yours?"
            The boy holds out a hand for the ring, and Sampson gently drops it into his soft-looking palm, contrasting so much to the callouses on Sam's own hands. Taking a moment to inspect it, the boy gets a small smirk on his face. "Well I'll be damned, it is mine. Thank you again."
            For a second, the boy stops walking to stare at the ring some more. Sampson takes a few steps forward until he realizes he's left his new acquaintance behind, and looks back to see the boy's gaze is focused intently on the shiny little ring.
            Then suddenly the boy marches forward, grabs Sampson's wrist, and drops the ring into the blonde's open palm. Letting go after a long moment of holding onto his wrist, the brunette takes a few steps backwards once more, leaving Sampson utterly confused as he looks at the ring in his hand and then back.
            "Keep it." He says with a mischievous grin, before he turns and darts off into the undergrowth through a thick clump of bushes, barely shaking them as he went, and out of Sampson's field of vision.
            "R-Really? Uh, thank you!" Sampson calls into the woods after him. "I didn't get... your name... he's gone." Sam sighs, only the sound of morning bird calls and the leaves shaking in the wind around him. Staring at the ring in utter puzzlement, Sampson pockets it once more and continues his way to the school house, head filled with the memory of chocolate brown eyes.

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