Jack awoke to the soothing songs of birds and the dim light of dawn. His body ached, especially his feet. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in his sheets, pulling them tight, and falling back into sleep. But he knew he shouldn’t, and probably wouldn't.

The cold morning air nipped at his skin, and the cold wood flooring made his feet send sharp jolts of pain through his legs. Slowly, he found his way to the kitchen, the faint light coming from the shut windows doing almost nothing for visibility.

Taking several pieces of kindling from their woodbox beside their stove, he lit a small fire. From a metal bucket he drew water. It was almost empty. Adding the cold liquid to a kettle, he hung it over the flickering flames.

Outside, winter was showing itself. The leaves on the trees were almost completely dead, the grass on the ground having none of the bright green color from the summer and spring. He listened to the nature around him as he stood on the porch. He enjoyed this.

Eventually, he swung a jacket over himself, grumbling at how cold it was against him. He traced the path that led to the well, empty bucket in hand. It was only a few dozen yards from the cottage, but to Jack at that moment, it felt like a full hike up a mountain.

Attaching the bucket to the pulley system, he lowered it. It made a soft splashing noise as it reached the aquifer beneath. Pulling on his end of the rope, he heaved the now heavy bucket up. Grabbing it with a splash, he made his way back to the cottage. The first thing he did was to water the horse and make sure it had grain.

No matter what Mr. Mallor said, there was no possible way he would be making his journey with only a day of rest. At least not with that horse. It was hard to believe that it was even still alive. 2 Silvers. Ha! Jack had to chuckle in disbelievement. One truly had to know nothing of horses for them to purchase one like the mare before him.

Some called them death walkers. An ample name, to be sure. So bad were those horse’s conditions that even the most heartless of scamming horse traders would not try to sell a death walker for anything more than pocket change, and even then, you wouldn’t be wrong for thinking it was too high a price for what you were getting. If anything, you were doing a service by buying the animal as you took the responsibility of feeding, stalling and grooming the beast onto yourself.

Jack did not suspect Mr. Mallor of being the one to have caused such abuse to the creature, as any blind man could see he truthfully knew nothing of the like. Jack doubted the man even knew what a bridle was. That made him chuckle a little. After making sure the horse was drinking, Jack went back inside with the rest of the bucket of water.

The kettle was now steaming slightly, and so Jack removed it from the flame. He didn’t want its whistling to wake up the whole house. Setting it aside for a moment, he took a small mug from a high shelf. In it, he placed an assortment of leaves. Even without the near boiling water, he could smell the aromas that they gave off.

Slowly, and without splashing any on himself, he poured the contents of the kettle into the mug. It made a soft gushing sounds, and the smell was strong now and it made Jack’s mouth water. Tea was something he hadn’t always enjoyed, but as he got older, and his pallet changed and matured, the drink had become a must have for his mornings, and if possible, his evenings.

He heard rustling in the hallway—he couldn’t tell from what room it came from—but he ignored it. He was too busy enjoying the pleasant feeling of his drink.

The first person to get up was Thomas. His hair was a mess, and a drool stain ran down his cheek. Jack said nothing. Only minutes after him was their guest, Tay Mallor, the Adventurer. And then finally, his mother. Her hair pristine, her skin bright. Though, faint lines that he did not recognize ran long her features.

“Have any for us?” Asked Thomas, his words only slightly slurred. “You want some, make it yourself.” Jack shrugged. Thomas groaned and stomped off to the dinning table where he sat.

“Good morning, Mr. Mallor.” Greeted Jack’s mother. Tay smiled slightly as he surprised a yawn. “Good morning, and please; call me Tay.” His mother bowed her head.

“Tay, then.” They all sat at the table except for Jack’s mother. She quickly got to work preparing a light breakfast. Eggs and chopped traders were put onto a skillet to fry. She fueled the fire Jack had started, making it roar to life.

She filled cups of water and passed them out to each person, who drank fully. The meal didn't take long to cook, and when she seasoned it, she took it from the fire and prepared it on wooden dishes.

“This is fantastic.” Tay said as he took mouthfuls of food. “Thank you.” Jack's mother said. “Most of what I know was taught to me by my grandmother. My mother wasn't much of a cook.” she chuckled.

“Is your mother still with you?” Tay ventured. Emma looked down for a moment with a somber smile. “Sadly she’s already passed. She had me later in her life.” She explained. “I was a sort of ‘bucket list’ for her. That’s not to say she didn’t love me; she did. But she was a very successful woman in her time, and being a mother was one of the few things she hadn't done.” A hand rested on her cheek.

“As you can tell, none of that succus was passed down.” She waved a hand in the air to accentuate her point. Tay nodded understanding.

“What about your mother?” She asked, continuing the conversation until breakfast was over. Tay hesitated for a moment. “She and my father are…” He searched for a moment. “Gone.” The word hung oddly, like it had more than one meaning. Emma smiled encouragingly.

“Parents are a complicated thing.” Tay chuckled. “Yeah.” Tay took the last bite of his meal and Jack stood. “I want to show you some things.” He said, gesturing to the door. Tay nodded and stood, placing his plate on the counter.

Jack led the Adventure to the small stable where his horse was and placed a gentle hand on her mane. “Simply speaking, she’s not going to be able to ride.” He lifted her back leg with ease. “She’ll need shoeing, and at least five days of proper rest and feeding. The issue is for you that I doubt anyone is going to be willing to sell you theirs.” He let the leg go.

“And there isn’t anyone here who sells horses as an occupation. The only way you're getting one is by going back to Finick’s bay and hoping you find that trader again. And honestly, if she’s anything to go by, I don’t think you’d want to.”

Tay groaned and let his head fall back. “When can we get her…” She looked for the word. “Shoed?” Jack thought for a moment. “Today should be possible. I think we can get her to town and back without much issue. We just can’t ride her.” Tay sighed.

“Can I really not buy a horse from one of the villagers?” He asked. Jack shook his head sadly. “Horses are very useful during the winter, even if they do eat a lot of grain.” He explained. “If you had a gold coin, then maybe. But I’m guessing you don’t.” Tay conceded the point with a confirming nod.

“I’d at least like to get her ‘shoed’” He said. “Is it very important? He asked with a raised eyebrow. “It’s better to have them than not, that’s for sure.”

“Then could I ask you to be my guide to town?” Jack shrugged. “Sure.”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

The path through the forest was much easier to travel than in the summer. Though that was true for many. Although the ground was so cold that one could feel it through their shoes, the deadly winter chill cleared vegetation away from the road. The lack of leaves and greenery also allowed anyone going to the village to see the smoke billowing from chimneys. There were many such pillars of smoke.

Jack and Tay walked on either side of the horse, Jack holding her rains and Tay keeping a watchful eye. “So, Bandits, huh?” Tay said in a comically dry tone. Jack huffed. “Yeah, Bandits. They’ve been an issue for the last several months. At first it started out as a small annoyance; Traveling in groups usually deterred them from striking.” He explained.

“But as they stole more, and got fat on their spoils, they grew in number. And no matter how many people group together on their way in or out of the village, there was a real chance that if they spotted you, that they’d take the opportunity in stride. Even the group that robbed me and Thomas had six guys.” Jack shook his head.

“Has anyone tried to fight back?” Tay asked. “We’re not fighters.” He chuckled wearily. “There might be five swords in this whole village.” Tay nodded slowly.

“The Baron, not to a lack of our pleas, has neglected us. In fact, from what I've heard from traders and merchants who come through town, the whole Finick region, all the way to the mountains, are all struggling. Even the entrance to the ancient city has had its guard forces doubled.

“Pirating has become a problem along the coast, too. More than normal.” He added. Jack saw the face of the Adventurer turn a shade darker as Jack talked. Eventually, they entered the outskirts of town. Small buildings—huts, really—were quite common. They fit a single family, but that was it. Jack’s own home was on the larger side, being able to accommodate guests and visitors.

“You seemed to know the shoemaker rather well.” Said as they passed Alfreds two story shop near the center of the village. Jack looked at the building with a smile. “Alfred…” He hesitated. “Is kind of a father, if I'm honest. Or at least as close to one as me and Thomas have.” His voice quivered.

“Although we messed things up for him more than once, he never really got mad at us. He always let us come back. And let me tell you, giving a kid free rain to a shoe store is a horrible idea.” He chuckled. He pulled the horse to a stop. “We’re here.” He said as he pointed to a medium sized shop with a sign saying “Frisus’s reliable goods.” Frisus was the name of the town.

He handed Tay the rain’s and knocked on the door. It was still closed, which was normal for that particular ship. Soft footsteps came from inside, and the door swung open to reveal a rather pretty young lady. She appeared to be around the same age as Jack, and had bright red hair and green eyes. Her face was round, but not chubby. It would be more accurate to say it was ‘adorable.’

Jack’s face reddened just slightly, and he scratched the back of his neck. Tay surprised a snicker. He waved at the girl and, barely perceptible, puffed out his chest.

“Hey, Jill.” He greeted. The girl smiled back, tilting her head a little. “Hey Jack, what’s up?” Jack fumbled with his words for a moment. “I-i just wanted to know if your dad was home today.” He said. The girl’s eyebrows lowered just a little.

“Yeah, he’s in the back getting ready for the day. Someone came through and stole some high priced items, so he’s seeing what he has.” Jack’s face turned sour “Damn it…” He growled. “What did you need him for?” She asked. Jack jerked a thumb at Tay

“I was hoping I could get him to shoe the horse.” The girl looked over Jack’s shoulder and made a concerned expression. “She doesn’t look good.” Jack grunted his agreement. “I’ll go get him.

Several moments later, a man with familiar red hair and green eyes emerged from the shop. He was large with wide shoulders—not dissimilar to Jack’s. The man was actually the town blacksmith. It wasn’t his main job, but it made a good amount of money when someone wanted a hoe or pitchfork.

The girl was not the reason he wanted to work under the man. Not entirely, at least.

“Jack!” The man greeted with a bear hug. “Mr. Newiz” Jack gasped. Hondo Newiz let the young man go and he dropped a foot to the floor—Mr. Newiz liked the idea of having Jack as an apprentice very much. He had known him almost as long as Alfred had, and was sort of the uncle who gave his nephew toy’s no one under the age of 14 should have.

He waved a hand back at Tay. “Would you mind putting a fresh pair of shoes on the horse?” he wheezed. Mr. Newiz glanced at the animal for a moment and then waved a hand in the air. “No problem.”

“I’ll pay.” Said Tay quickly. The part-time blacksmith let out a hearty “Bah!” And said, “Nonsense. It’ll hardly take a sweat.” And like that, they were behind the shop in a stall where another horse stood, eating some late season hay.

Mr. Newiz straddled the horse's back leg between his legs, pulling it up behind her. The horse thrashed around a little, but the large man handled it easily. He started by using some tools to clean the bottom of the hoof, removing dirt and grim, and then he used what looked like a giant pair of nail clippers to clip off chunks of black hoof, exposing the white underneath.

After that, he took a metal horseshoe, a hamer, and some nails and began to fix it to the hoof. The hammer clanged loudly as he drove the nails in.

“Wouldn’t that be causing her some considerable pain?” Tay asked, focused on the expert speed at which Mr. Newiz worked the shoes on. It was Jack that answered. “Not really. Perhaps if you drove the nail in very wrong,” He said, putting emphasis on the ‘very wrong’ part. “But as long as we keep to the outside of the hood, it’s fine.” Tay nodded, obviously interested.

As Mr. Newiz drove the last nail into the horse's hoof, Tay asked to examine it. The blacksmith shrugged and let Tay take hold of the leg, instructing him on how to hold it so he didn’t find a hoof-shaped mark on his face. He looked at it carefully, feeling the shiny metal of the shoe.

Then Jack noticed something. Besides his face, Tay had been wearing long sleeve shirts and gloves the entire time he had been around him and his brother. It wasn’t entirely unusual, he knew, but the odd burn marks on his face had made him wonder. And when Tay bent down, he saw Tay’s skin between his glove and shirt.

It was black.

It wasn’t the normal black that people from outside of the region sometimes had, but rather, it was like the black off the coals inside their stove. He tried to restrain himself, but he was too damn curious.

“How’d you get those scars?” Tay stopped inspecting the shoes and looked down, seeing that the skin of his arm was showing. He sighed and stood, letting the horse's foot down gently.

He slowly removed his glove, finger by finger, revealing a charred hand. He rolled his sleeve up to his elbow where the burns slowly faded.

“This and this,” He pointed to his face and arms. “Is what happens when you lose control of your magic.” A single ember of fire formed from his palm. Everyone looked at it curiously. “Does it hurt?” Asked Jill, the red haired girl. He let the fire fade and felt his arm with his gloved hand.

“Not really.” He said finally. “It’s just sort of…numb.” He smiled weakly. “I drank healing potions shortly after, and so my muscle and bones are fine, but my skin was left permanently marked.” Newiz wishtiled.

“I’ve got some bad burns, but I think you might beat me.” Everyone chuckled. “Moral of the story,” Tay said. “Don’t be stupid.” He smiled to himself. “Hear hear!” chanted Newiz, turning his hand to show a fairly bad burn from many years ago.

He got back to the task at hand after exchanging some more small talk with the gathered group, finishing the other three hooves in quick order. He patted the rump of the horse, the hair was much softer after Jack had combed her.

“She’s all done. But I’d feel wrong if I didn’t advise you to not ride her for a few day’s. She’s far too weak; she barely fought back against me when I shoed her, which is weird for a first timer.” Jack saw Tay deflate. Apparently he had hoped a second opinion would be different.

They exchanged farewells, the two older men gave the two teen’s some distance, and their goodbyes took a little bit longer. Eventually, they separated and the two started back to Jack’s home.

Then they smelt something and stopped. It was smoke. It wasn’t the mildly pleasant scent of the maple trees that everyone used for firewood, but rather the smell of an out-of-control fire. Both of their heads whirled around and saw the shoe store ablaze. Jack was the first to move. Tay quickly followed.

A man lay at the foot of the two stairs that lead to the small porch of the shop. Flames licked at his clothes, and Jack quickly patted them out. He rolled the man over, putting his ear to his mouth and listening for breaths. Alfred was alive, and Jack sighed with relief.

The building was a raging mess. Fire flared from the doorway and windows. Wood panels fell to the ground and snuffed out the fire burning them. People started to emerge from houses, all caring buckets of water. They tried to douse the fire, and tried to douse the siding of other buildings. People ran as fast as they could to wells to refill three and four buckets at a time.

Then Jack noticed a piece of paper. He flipped it over and his heart sank. There were poorly drawn words on the back, and he read them aloud.

“To any who dare cross us. You have been warned.”

- The Dire Bandits.