Heath sat on his bed in his family's room at the Drunk Stump Inn, resting his head against the wooden wall, fighting sleep after the jittery energy of battle had left him. Beside him Nadia leaned against him lightly snoring.

Opposite of them on the other bed sat Heath’s father, a chunk of wood in hand, shaving slivers off with his finger nails.

Every once and a while Heath crack open his eyes just a little to watch his father, the wood was slowly shaping into a rough visage of Fi-ya. Him and his sister had never wanted for toys, their father was just as talented at carving toys as he was the artwork that had once decorated their home.

The sun had completely set hours before and Ingrid had yet to return. Heath and his father had washed off the blood and mud from the battle in the inn’s bath, and now Heath just wanted to drift off to sleep.

A soft hum from his chest told Heath that partner spirit agreed.

The ever growing weight of sleep had nearly taken Heath for the night, when he heard the door to the room open a creak in the nearly silent inn.

There stood Heath’s mother, Ingrid, her clothes stained with the blood of others and mud her bags of herbs and potions nowhere to be seen.

Although her clothes were still filthy, she had taken the time to wash her hands and face of any evidence of what she had been doing for hours.

Ingrid closes the door and runs a hand across her haggard face, and lets tension fall from her shoulders.

“Okay, let's talk.”, the exhausted woman breathes out more than says, as she drags a wooden chair behind her, the very chair Heath’s father had sat in when he talked with him.

“First, Heath. How are you? You have gone through a lot with the fire and now this.”

Heath considered his answer, he was scared at first and after when Jan was hurt, but during that actual fighting he felt….not good, but…. right.

“Heath?”, Ingrid says gently, pulling Heath from his musing.

“Sorry, I was thinking…. I’m fine really. I was worried about Jan, but other than that I’m good.”

Ingrid scrunches up her face, “ Really? You weren’t scared when fighting, the explosions happened. Nothing?”

Heath shakes his head,” Maybe at first, but during it I just did what felt natural.”.

He pauses for a minute, then adds, “ Next time I’ll be better prepared, so less people get hurt. If I’m going to be a trekker I should be as strong as possible to defend others.”

He knew right away he had said too much, his mother’s face grew red, and her lips puckered.

Through gritted teeth she hisses, “ No son of mine will be a trekker. I have told you this over and over. My father di…”

He jumps up waking Nadia and does something he has never done before… yells back at his mother.

“I KNOW! YOUR FATHER DIED AS A TREKKER! AND NOW YOU HATE THEM! I DON’T CARE! I’M SORRY HE DIED AND MAYBE I WILL TOO! BUT I WILL BE TREKKER WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT!”

Both of Heath’s parents stare at him in shock, while he stands with fist balled up at his side, chest rising up and down, tears of anger threatening to spillover.

Igrid is about to shout back when Nadia begins to cry. She rushes over to comfort her, but when she moves Heath darts for the door.

“Heath!”, Ingrid calls for her son, but the door is slamming closed.

The room was silent save for Nadia’s crying.

Karl looks between his wife and the door, clearing his throat says, “Ingrid-”

“I know.”, Ingrid says, cutting her husband off, “ Go after him.”

Karl stands still for a moment contemplating if he should say something else, but decides against it and exits the room.

----------------------------------------

  Heath ran through the streets of Scozeg, tears flying from the corner of his eyes.

She is always like that! What I want doesn’t matter! I’m spirited and almost fourteen! Two more years I’ll be an adult! Heath thinks to himself, as he lets his feet lead him forward without thought.

Heath stops when he reaches his destination, The Trekker’s Guild.

He eyes the large building, now with lights and noise spilling out with the trekkers returned.

He could hear laughing, clinking of glasses, and the hum of many conversations becoming one.

Heath slowly walks toward the gate of the courtyard and wraps his fingers around the metal bars.

Here they were just after a battle where they had suffered losses, but were they crying and fretting, no.

They were celebrating being alive.

Heath wants to be in there, he wants to be one of them.

Lost in his own thoughts, Heath doesn’t notice a figure slip out of the building.

He doesn’t notice as the figure walks around the courtyard, then stop and tilt their head towards him, nor when the figure starts walking in his direction.

“Who’s there?”, the voice calls out, startling Heath from his daydreaming.

He jumps back and looks around before running away.

“Wait!”, the voice continues, but Heath doesn’t heed its call.

As Heath runs off into the night, the figure comes to the gate and looks after his feeling form.

“Heath?”

  He runs from street to street, not really sure why he was running other than he was started when the voice called out to him and afraid of being forced to go back to the inn.

He would of course go back, just not yet.

He had yelled at his mother. He was not ready to deal with that. He meant every word he said, but he didn't want to say it the way he did.

He just got so tired of her telling him he couldn't follow his dreams. She was his mother and he loved her and she just wanted him to be safe. But, if he didn’t become trekker, would he ever be happy?

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

No. That was the simple answer, no he wouldn’t.

He could make a life for himself one way or another, maybe marry and have kids, but he would forever be pining after a life that could’ve been.

He stops running and looks up, he is at home.

Or what had been… would be again?

He’s not sure. Would it ever feel the same?

Heath eyes the half built structure. They had finished the walls and just needed to put the roof on.

Looking past the house, because that's all it was now, one day it could be home again, but not now, he saw his father’s woodshop.

Walking at a relaxed pace Heath made his way to it.

Coming to the building, he runs his hand along the doorframe feeling for the seam of the secret compartment his father had shown him.

Finding it, he wedges a fingernail in and pulls.

A narrow box pulls down revealing a key.

Taking the brass key in his hand, Heath unlocks the door.

The door swings open into the dark workshop, sweeping wood shavings and dust into the air.

Walking in he shuts the door engulfing himself and the space in darkness.

From memory, Heath navigates the cluttered workspace and over to the small fireplace.

Bending over, he grabs scrap his father leaves there for firewood and throws several pieces in.

Holding his hand in the direction of the opening he says quietly, “Fire Bolt.”

The thin flame shoots out, instantly igniting the few scraps of wood upon contact.

The room fills with the warm glow of the small fire.

Walking around in dim light, Heath traces the patterns his father had carved into unfinished furniture that had been left after he had been focusing on rebuilding their house.

His father was a master woodworker, and he could see how much his father loved it.

He wished he could be more like his father, content to live a simple, well simple enough, life.

Heath sighs, dusting the sawdust from his hands.

Moves back to the fire and sits down, and leans against the stone chimney, enjoying the warmth building in the stone.

Pop.

Looking down he sees Fi-ya with a melancholy face.

“Yeah me too.”

The spirit pats its partner on the knee, then sits down and rests its head against him.

“What are we gonna do?”

He can feel the spirit shrug.

“Me neither.”

A knock from behind him, causes both spirit and young man to whip around.

In the doorway was his father.

I'm so getting a beating for yelling at Mom, Heath thought to himself as his father closes the door and walks toward him.

He is surprised when his father sits down across from him, looking at the fire.

His deep voice breaks the silence, “ Ya shouldn’t have yelled at yer ma.”

Heath hung is head.

“But she shouldn’t have yelled at ya either.”

He looks at his father not sure what to say.

“She worries about ya, but she can’t keep treating ya as a child. Not anymore. Ya’ve bonded a spirit and spilt blood. Ya need to make yer own choices now.”

“Pa, I-I don’t know what to say. I didn’t mean to yell, it just came out. I know her pa died as a trekker, but-”

“Not just her pa.”

“Wha-”, Heath is cut off as his father raises his hand.

"Not for me to tell."

Karl lets the statement hang in the air for a moment.

“We can sit here for a few, but then go back.”

The two sat in silence, both lost in their own thoughts and musings.

Karl leans back and places his hand on a piece of wood next to the fireplace. A brown light clashes with the flickering orange of the fire.

Heath can hear the clinking of coins, and his father places a wooden chest down, a little smaller than a loaf of bread.

His father looks at the box for a moment, turning it around he opens the lid.

Heath’s eyes widen as silver and gold coins reflect the light.

“I’ve been puttin’ coin away when I knew ya were serious about bein’ a trekker.”

“Pa….”, tears of gratitude fills his eyes, “ thank you…..Does Mom know?”

“Ha! Of course not. I’mma dreadin’ telling her.”

The two laugh at Karl’s admission of fear for his wife.

Their laughter comes to halt when a third voice speaks out, “I may be able to help with that and help young Heath here to follow his dreams.”

Karl is on his feet in a second arms growing dark as wood spreads over them, “Who are you?”

Pop.

Fi-ya disappears as Heath gets to his feet hand outstretched ready to cast a fire bolt.

The figure holds up its hands and steps into the light, “ Whow there! No need for violence.”

As the short figure steps forward, Heath recognizes them, “Sebastian?”

“Hey kid. Sorry for eavesdropping, but when I saw you running away from the guild I got worried.”

“Son, you know this halfling.”, Karl asks his son, eyes still on the short man before him.

“Yeah, Pa. He went with me to the Trekker Guild after the battle to check on Nadia.”

Karl lowers his arms, but the wood lining his arms stays.

“Ya said ya can help Heath. How?”

Sebastian lowers his arms and light flickers off a perfect pearly smile.

“From what I gather, the boy’s mother isn’t to keen on him becoming a trekker, but he’s dead set on it.”

“That’s the jist yes.”, Karl replies.

“So not many know this, but a bonded minor can join the guild as a junior member should they have the permission of at least one parent or guardian, and is sponsored by a team in good standing with the guid.”

Hope fills Heath, his eyes wide.

“Pa?”

His father stay’s on Sebastian, uncertainty and suspicion evident on his face, “ I take it ya want the coins for this good deed.”

“No.”, the halfling says simply and curtly.

“No?”, father and son say in unison.

“No.”, Sebastian says again, then continues, “In fact, I would like for young Heath to open an account with the guild and put all the money in there for when he is ready to join in full.”

“Really?”, Karl asks.

“Really. Furthermore we would pay Heath from our earnings.”

“Why would ya do that?”

It was Sebastian's turn to be confused, hesitantly he says, “ Because he would be traveling with us. Helping set up camp, take care of the mule and equipment, and on easier jobs fighting.”

“Really!?”, Heath yells and looks to his father, “ Pa? What do you think?”

Time drags on as Karl just looks between the trekker and his son.

Rubbing his face and giving a small smile, “ I think ya better come back in one piece or yer mother is going to kill me. She might kill me anyway.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It is.”

Heath pumps his fists in the air too excited to say another word.

Sebastian smiles and gives Karl a silent promise in the way of a nod.

“ Well this is enough skulking around in the dark, making secret deals for me. I am heading back, find me tomorrow at the guild.”

Sebastian waves and steps back into the night.

Karl groans and says, “ We should go too.”

  Heath and Karl slip into the dark inn room, Karl closing the door silently behind them.

The only noise is the quiet snoring of Nadia, as the girl sleeps wrapped in her mother’s arm, Ingrid’s back to them.

Karl begins to grab a pillow and throw it on the floor, but is stopped by Heath.

He whispers, “That's okay Pa. You take the bed, I’m not tired yet.”

Karl considers his son, looks to his wife’s still form and shrugs. He better enjoy the comfort of a bed while he could, he would be spending a many a nights sleeping in the woodshop.

As Karl settled in, Heath sat on the floor, buzzing with excitement.

“I’m sorry Heath.”, Ingrid softly says without turning.

Heath thinks about how she was going to react to him leaving and says as the smile slips away, “ I'm sorry too Mom.”