As he turned to follow the path once more, he followed it out towards the main road and swore to himself that he wouldn’t cry again. Once he got to the road, he began to travel north along it keeping close to the edge so that he could hide in the woods that bordered it every time he heard the approaching sounds of riders for fear of being seen. Painin spent his first night on the road huddled under the meager cover of an Oak tree. Cold rain began to fall early in the evening and did not let up throughout the night and he soon found himself soaked with the cold being pushed deep into his bones. Painin debated about making a fire but the rain had caused all the tinder around him to be soaked and of no use, so he resigned himself to clutching his knees and huddled against the trunk of the tree.
He refused to cry as he lay there in the darkness trying to rub warmth into his arms and legs and sleep didn’t come easy and was only found in fitful bits. Despite the weather, the animals of the night still moved about in their pursuits in the full darkness of night without any sort of moonlight. Painin found himself wishing that he was one of those mighty wizards that he had read about in one of his father’s books, able to summon fire with a wave of their hand.
“Stop wishing for things like a child! You have to be a man now!” Painin chided himself, and his sleep when it came was fleeting and filled with dreams.
He could see his sister Marnie running amongst the chickens as he exited the woods. Their mother had given her the task of feeding the birds, which she seemed more than happy to do. Like most 6 year old’s though she seemed to do more chasing of the birds as she did feeding them. A smaller form ran around with her, Jack his younger brother. Already at the age of 3, he showed no fear of anything and cried something fierce if he was excluded from anything. Their squeals of joy carried on the wind across the small pasture.
His father walked across the paddock towards him and climbed over the fence falling into step with him.
“Did you fall asleep out there? Took you long enough.” He said a smile on his lips.
“I saw a deer on the trail. If I had your bow, I could have taken it and we could have had fresh meat for dinner.”
“Oh, so you think you're good enough to go out hunting by yourself now? Let me ask you this, how old was the deer? Was there anything the matter with it? Was it with fawn?”
“I don’t know.” Said Painin looking to the ground.
“Until you can answer those questions, you’ll go out with me hunting. You have to help the Great Mother, not hurt her. Now then, don’t hang your head we will go hunting soon I promise. Hurry up and take that water back to the house. Your Mother will be in a state if she doesn’t get it soon.” Said his father ruffling Painin’s hair before walking off toward his forge.
Painin watched his father move across the yard he moved like a man much older than his 45 years, from old wounds he had suffered in battle. Of average height, he carried more muscle on his body than most men, though recently his mother remarked on his expanding middle. His blond hair and blue eyes had been passed to Painin. He had been a General in the Old King's army but had left service shortly after his death. His father didn’t like to talk about his time in the military, though whenever they went to town the men there all paid their respects to him.
He slowly lowered the buckets and replaced the staff against the wall, before carrying the buckets into the house. His mother stood in the simple kitchen her back to him, working dough on the counter. Her dark hair and eyes were in stark contrast to his father and had been passed on to his sister and brother. His mother was slim, and it was rumored that elf blood flowed through her side of the family tree. She always denied it saying she didn’t believe such stories, but to Painin she looked like an elf princess.
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“Painin, are you listening to me?”
“Huh…. I’m sorry I was daydreaming.”
“Yes, you seem to be doing that a lot these days. Now put down the water buckets and send your sister and Jack in here, for me.”
“Yes, mamma.” Said Painin putting down his forgotten water buckets.
Heading back outside he was tackled by both Marnie and Jack; the youngest new favorite game was to hide and then attack the unsuspecting victim.
“Painin!” Cried the three-year-old before promptly biting him on the leg, launching Marnie into a fit of giggles.
“Marnie, Mom wants you and the goblin in the kitchen.” Said Painin disentangling himself from the two.
“I no goblin!” Yelled Jack, readying himself for another attack.
“Come on Jack want some cake?” Called Marnie from the door. The three-year-old spun on his heels at the mention of his favorite word.
“Cake, Cake, Cake!” He yelled as he charged up the stairs almost knocking Marnie aside and ran into the kitchen a whirling dervish of destruction.
Painin rubbed his sore leg as he made his way to his father's workshop, where he was stoking the forge inside. He watched as his father pulled on the rope that operated the bellows raising the temperature in the forge quickly, with practiced ease. Seeing him standing there his father motioned for Painin to take his place at the bellows. Taking a piece of iron, he placed it into the bed of red coals that flared with each pull. Painin soon fell into a steady rhythm just as his father had taught him, while also keeping an eye on what his father was doing.
Sweat already covered them as the temperature inside the workshop began to grow as well. His father set about pulling tools from the nearby racks so that they would be at hand when needed. Checking the iron and finding it to be the right color His father pulled it out with tongs and set it on his anvil and began to beat the metal with his hammer. Sparks flew from each strike, and a resounding ring rang throughout the shop. His father was famous for saying that if a strike was true the metal would sing, like a minstrel.
Already Painin could see the metal flattening slightly, under the blows of the hammer. His father shoved the cooling iron back into the coals to reheat, to repeat the processes over again. Slowly the metal began to take shape as the day wore on, his father allowing him to rest as needed. His father’s stamina never ceased to amaze Painin as he pulled on the rope while he took a much-needed rest and drink of water.
“Not too much longer today. We don’t want your mother to kill us for being late to dinner.” He yelled over the roar of the forge.
He worked the metal with his hammer until he gave it a nod and put it into the quenching barrel that sat in the corner of the shop. The metal hissed in protest as it was cooled fast, and steam rose from it as he dunked it twice more. Still, too hot to touch his father set it on a small table inset with a tray of sand, to finally cool overnight. Painin set about helping his father put away the tools and banking the coals for the night.
Dusk had begun to settle on the land, as the sun was poised just below the tree line to the west. The smell of his mother’s cooking made him aware of just how hungry he was since he had skipped eating lunch today. His father kissed his mother as he entered the kitchen, slowing only enough to take a deep breath from the cauldron hanging over the fire. Painin knew the smell of his mother’s stew and quickly ran to wash his face and hands from the small pitcher of water.
When he turned back his family was sitting eating in silence but the house around them was engulfed in flame that turned everything it touched to ash. He rushed to help his family and screamed at them to get out of the house, but they didn’t so much as move as the flames moved across each of them turning them to ash even as he screamed and tried to pull them, but their bodies just crumbled under his touch. The flames roared higher and soon everything was on fire and even Painin himself was burning.
Painin jumped awake screaming his heart hammering in his chest and gasping for air. He tried to calm himself down when he noticed a faint squeaking sound off to the left of his small resting spot alongside the large tree, but the darkness of the night didn’t allow him to see the location of the small animal making the noise. A sudden gust of wind passed by his face followed by the sounds of wet leaves falling was the only sound afforded by the ghost owl before it took wing again followed by a few pitiful squeaks. The passage of the owl unnerved him as he remembered tales his mother would tell of giant owls that carried off bad children that didn’t listen to their mothers. Sleep took its time in returning to Painin that night and when it finally did it was fitful and full of owls.