“What?!” Yelled the man before them. His dark brown eyes were wide. He was staring at Thomas and Jack in bewilderment, the creases on his old face stretched in concern and frustration.

“What could possibly convince you to do something so moronic?” He asked. Jack looked away from him. The man was Alfred. Just Alfred as the leathersmith never told anyone his full name. He was actually rather mysterious, which was probably why the brother’s grew so close to him. They had played in his shop for what was going on a decade, and although Alfred didn’t condone it at first, eventually he allowed them to have free rain of shop, and on occasion, he even let them help with his work—With always showed why neither of them wanted to pursue a apprenticeship with the man. That was better left with the Allwood boy.

“We needed a goat.” Jack said quietly. Alfred took a moment to understand what the boy had said, but then raised an eyebrow. “A goat? You left the village to get a goat?” He asked disbelievingly. “Now was the only time!” Jack defended. It had been mostly his idea to leave, anyways.

“If we had gone in the summer, the old shepherd would have charged us triple because of the demand. So instead we went while winter was bearing down in hopes that he would be more willing to sell us one to get another hungry mouth away…” He trailed off with a defeated tone. Alfred let out a quick bark of a dry laugh.

“A lot of good that did ya’.” Jack’s cheeks reddened. He really didn’t want to hear of his stupidity from someone else. His own mind was telling him more than enough. Alfred straightened and turned, huffing. “Well, I ain’t letting you go back without something around your feet.” He pulled down a pair of old boots from one of the high shelves in his shop, and then another from farther into the store. He threw them at the brothers, mumbling something unintelligibly as he went to do something.

The boys fitted the boots, noticing that they were perfect. “We’ll pay you back soon…” Jack half-yelled into the store, his voice echoing oddly in the maze of high shelves. A loud ‘Bah!’ came from somewhere. “You know you ain’t gotta pay me for any of that. And besides, you know you don’t have the money for them.”

Jack gritted his teeth. He really didn’t, and he wouldn’t for a long while. The man appeared again holding two jackets, both covered in dust that came off in large brown plums as Alfred beat them. He handed them to the boys to try on, the brothers coughing as they did.

“And you saved ‘em?” Alfred asked the man who had stood silently during the three’s exchange. Tay Mallor, he remembered. The man shook his head. “Sadly, I was not there when they were being…swindled. Luckily, I was there afterwards. I am afraid to think what would've happened if they had actually walked all the way back here. Or tried to, at least.” Alfred nodded, shooting the brothers another withering glare.

“I must thank ya’.” He extended a hand to the man. He judged him to be an Adventurer, though of what caliber he was not sure. The young man grabbed his hand and shook it firmly. It wasn’t every day someone like him passed through the village, and Alfred wondered if he might be able to get the man to show his undoubtedly full purse…

He could.

20 minutes later, Alfred had a broad smile on his face and a handful of silver coins. The man seemed perfectly fine buying at such an exuberant price, and for a moment, Alfred felt rather bad. Then his attention was brought back to the many hulvs in his hand, and the many months they would be able to feed himself and his wife, and he put his misgivings under ‘acceptable hustling.’

Jack rode with his brother on the horse in complete silence. They were out of the town now—Mr. Mallor had insisted they go into town before, as he had explained, they took the long path to their mother’s home. Trees slowly passed them by, the clopping of the horses hooves against the hardening ground helped Jack drown out some of his worries. But not all.

His mother, Emma Meyer, was a dutiful woman. She was dutiful to her work, to her home, and most of all, to her children. And no one knew this better than the Meyer brother’s themselves. She had taken care of them by herself ever since their father died in the king’s army. Jack was only 6 then.

What Jack remembered of that time was dark. Their mother often sat by the fireplace, and later, on the porch, just staring into nothing. Although Jack was of the mind that, somehow, she was looking at or for their father. None of them believed he still lived; they had seen the body. They had been given the compensation. But as if her gaze could pierce through to the next life, she stared almost endlessly. It was almost a full year later that she emerged from that state.

During the year-long period, she took care of them in only the barest sense. They mainly lived off the compensation; their mother would go into town, buy the food they'd need for the week, cook when she had to, and occasionally clear the house. Jack didn’t blame her for it, at least not anymore. Perhaps when he was young he might have felt that he had been cheated out of a proper, reasonable life, but as he grew older, he realized that she was doing all she could for what she had.

Eventually, she began interacting with them again. She started to teach them in both practical and academic settings—at least as much as two village boy’s needed to learn. And through many months, they grew closer again. They had never seen their mother in such a state since. In fact, it seemed that she made a constant effort to prevent such a thing.

But if there was one thing that their father’s death did that still affected them, it was their mother’s fear for her children. Just the simple act of leaving the village as they had, had taken weeks of persuasion, and it only happened because they needed a goat for the coming winter.

Great job they did…Thought Jack. Not only had he failed to buy the animal, but he had lost their horse, most of their clothes, and their coin. He had just let them take it. He hadn’t even fought back…Perhaps his mother was right to worry.

Their home soon came into view. It was a small cottage nestled into a meadow. Trees surrounded it and cast almost constant shadows over the small yard. Beds of wilting, late season flowers sat in front of the house, and a well-worn path traced to the well at the edge of the forest.

As the clip-clopping of the horse drew closer to the building and sounds of clattering came from inside. A woman in her late thirties came through the door. Her light brown hair was slightly frizzled from a full day of activity, but it still glimmered in the dawn’s light. A simple grey dress made her skin seem almost transparent. Her face was twisted in an expression that made Jack look away.

With bare feet, she leapt down the few steps from the porch and ran to them. Thomas Quickly dismounted the horse, fumbling with the stirrups that the man had adjusted for him. When his feet eventually touched the ground, he was sweeped up in their mother’s embrace.

Jack removed himself from the animal far more gracefully, and more slowly. Truthfully, he didn’t want to get down and face his mother, but he knew that if he didn’t, it would just make her worry even more.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He tried to keep himself behind the horse, out of the immediate gaze of the woman. But he too was soon wrapped up in warm arms, and he couldn’t help but do the same. After several moments, they separated and Emma held Jack by his shoulders.

“You must tell me what happened.”

Emma Meyer cared a great deal about many things. She cared for her house, for her gardens, and for her craft as a seamstress. She cared for the people of the village and their good health. She cared about herself, too. She always went the extra mile to make herself presentable. She would almost always spend the early hours of the morning washing, brushing and then braiding her hair. She’d then take care of her skin, which was why it shined so.

But above all, she cared for her Children, Jack and Thomas Meyer. They were her whole life. She had codelled them since the death of their father, and her best friend, and had only recently allowed them to stretch their wings, figuratively. Some might call her over protective, and she was fine with that because it was true, and she didn’t care.

When she lost her husband, she had done something she would never forgive herself for; She had left her children. Not literally, of course, but rather, she had left them with a husk that could only barely be called a person. Certainly not a mother. They had to grow into adulthood quicker than any child should have, especially Jack.

If not for the coins they were given for the death of her husband, Emma doubted they would have made it through that time. But even still, the boy’s had single handedly taken care of their home. They had gone to town to buy and sell, they had gone into the woods to hunt and gather. All of which were tasks Emma and her husband should have handled. Or at the very least, should have gradually trained them for.

But only at the tender age of 6 and 3, they had taken on the full responsibility of an adult. Of course, there was only so much Thomas could do being barely old enough for school. But Jack had changed. At the age of twelve, he already knew what he wanted to be, and he had prepared for it ever since, staying up deep into the night. Although Emma suspected that being forced into the role of a caretaker so young had done something to him; perhaps left some sort of mark. She couldn’t blame him.

And so when Jack had spoken of the bandits and what they had done, she had gone pale.

They sat at the dining room table. Thomas was laying on the long stool, his head on his mother’s lap and his eye’s shut. Jack sat uncomfortably on the opposite stool, fidgeting as his mother stared at the table's corse wood.

“I’m…sorry, Ma.” The young man said. Emma looked up, her eye’s scanning Jack’s features. Then she shook her head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” She said softly. Jack grimaced.

“I should have done something!” He shouted.

“Like what?” Jack looked away.

“I should have fought against them.” Emma looked at him with narrowed eyes. “And where would that have gotten you?” She asked. “You say there were more than five of them; what would you have done? Would have had Thomas fight too? Or would you have rather had him fend for himself when you were killed?” Her voice had a sad edge to it that made Jack wince.

“We lost everything…” He said solemnly. Emma’s hand reached for his. “You both are still here. That’s all anyone cares about.” Jack’s eyes welled with tears. “But the goat, the horse, our money!”

“Yes, they are a great loss, and winter will be a far heavier burden. But as with the years prior, we will get through it.” She smiled warmly. Jack gave a pained smile in return.

Looking down, Emma brushed at the locks of black hair that fell over Thomas’s eyes. They got that from their father. Gently, She took the boy in her arms and walked to his small room—all the rooms in the cottage were small. She pulled the blankets over him and the boy grunted contentedly. She pulled on the door to the room, only leaving it slightly cracked.

She rubbed her temples as she walked over to the boiling mushroom stew simmering over a small fire. The smell saturated the room pleasantly, and seeing that it was done, she shut the vent feeding the fire air. Taking glossy wooden bowls from a shelf, she ladled the thick stew into them. She garnished each with cota leafs that added a woody flavor.

“I hope this can begin to show my gratitude for what you’ve done.” She said as she set a steaming bowl before the stranger—it felt odd calling the savior of her children that.

The man smiled kindly at her. She noticed how young he looked for the first time, and found herself surprised.

“There is no need, Ms. Meyer. It is what anyone would have done, and besides,’ He took a spoon and stirred the hot stew. “Your son has agreed to direct me where I wish to go, which is all that I can ask for.” Emma looked at her son for a moment, a faint smile on her face.

“If you don’t mind me asking, where is it that you’re headed?”

The man hesitated for a moment. “The great pond.” She blinked. The great pond actually referred to an unusual dessert in the Finick region. It was named as such because, almost as if bodies of water, the sands started suddenly, cutting away from the grasslands around it. It was one of the many unusual things in the world that mimicked their natural counterparts.

“That’s quite a way” She stated. Tay nodded. “There is something, or rather, somewhere that I must go to. A dear friend of mine has advised me as much before he left me. I hope to find him there.” The man's face had a sadness that Emma recognized, because it was the one she wore after her husband died.

“I’m sure you’ll find him.” The man smiled weakly, nodding his head in thanks. They sat quietly as they enjoyed the food. The man seemed to especially enjoy it. “Where do you come from?” Emma asked. The man didn't answer right away as he was chewing.

“Finick’s Bay, right?” Jack said suddenly. The man smiled, trying his best to keep his lips together. “Jack.” Emma admonished. Tay waved a hand in the air. “It’s fine, really. The boy’s right.” He cocked his head.

“What gave it away?” He asked. Jack studied the man for a moment. “Your sword, and the pouches on your belt.” Tay raised an eyebrow. “I’ve felt it before.” He elaborated. “Magic, that is. We had a group of adventurers come through here a year ago, and some of their things had that feeling.” He leaned in.

“You’re an adventurer, right?” The man smirked again. Raising his hands, he conceded. “You’ve got me.” Jack smiled

“That is a three day journey, correct?” Asked Emma. “Yes, although it would have been much longer if I had not bought a horse at the end of the first day. A man had been going to the city to sell horses—a rather fruitless endeavor—And I had managed to convince him to sell me a horse for a reasonable price.” Jack cleared his throat awkwardly.

Both adults looked at him, and he withered a little. “How much did you buy it for?” He asked. The man looked thoughtful for a moment. “I believe we bargened to a mere 2 and a half silver coins.” Tay now looked rather awkward as he was the center of attention.

“Was that not a good deal?” He asked somewhat sheepishly. Emma turned her head to Jack, not looking away from the man. “What was the condition of the horse, Jack?” Tay observed the two exchange pitying looks with each other, and then Jack stood and left, bowl of stew in hand.

“I believe I’m missing something…” Tay observed. Emma looked cheerfully at him. “I believe you’ve been scammed. No horse with anything would sell for so little.” The man looked like a deflated sail. Moments later, Jack returned.

“Underfed, and poorly kept. She seems to be of a good bread, but that’s about as good as the news comes.” Tay’s head was in his hands. “She will not be ready to travel for several days” The Adventurer groaned in annoyance. “Perhaps you could stay her for a few days?” Emma offered.

Tay shook his head. “I need to get to the dessert soon.” Emma waved a hand. “At least for the night. You won’t get there any faster if you leave now and sleep under some tree, or if you sleep here and leave tomorrow. Jack can do what he can for the horse, and perhaps make it ready for your journey.” She offered.

Tay looked conflicted, so Emma continued. “Think of it as my repayment to you, even if you don’t think I owe you anything.”

“Please.” She added. Tay looked to be thinking, but eventually conceded and took her offer. By the time dinner had been cleaned, night had almost completely feel, and dim candle light had filled the cottage. Emma showed Tay to their spare bedroom and tended to a bath for him, which he initially declined, but after some convincing from his hostess, he accepted. It wasn’t particularly warm, but it was better than sleeping with day’s worth of grim. Sleep fell upon the cottage quickly, and so brought the trials of the following day all the sooner.