Nestled deep within the Emerald Wood was the Kelmin village. Named after the only famous person the village produced, it sat on the banks of a dried-up lake; thriving on the forest's generous offerings. Lumber was its primary export, followed by the diverse selection of furs from the many animals that called the wood home. From the first rays of morning light until the gentle glow of the ending day a symphony of saws echoed in the air. Strong men slicing through timber and butcher preparing the hunter's bounty was the melody of their livelihood.

Processing the lumber was a tiring job, but the proud people of Kelmin took to it with aplomb. Three large structures, made from locally sourced wood, housed saw houses and storage facilities. Cutting the fine trees into planks. The remnants were brought to the charcoal burners where a great deal of charcoal was made for export.

Most of the supplies made for export flowed to the monster-infested region known as The Frontier. Though it was miles away, the decayed ground wouldn't allow for any such greenery to grow. As such villages such as Kelmin were necessary in the reclamation effort.

Amidst this hardworking community, there was one house that struggled. It sat on a hill overlooking the now dry lake. Like the other houses here, it was built at the founding of the village. Yet, the surrounding houses were well maintained. This particular house looked almost abandoned. The foundation, a mess of rock and cob, was as sturdy as ever—yet the wood was decayed and poorly patched. It was a miracle the wood rotten home still stood.

Inside this house was the patriarch of a family far larger than he had expected. Nor did he think he would be left to raise it alone.

A handful of old worn out copper coins rested on a broken wooden table. They gleaned in the weary brown eyes of the man who sat before them. A single finger, cut and blistered, poked at the old coins. His other hand held his head and after another lazily recounting the coins, it ran through his chopped up brown hair. The result of a self-administered haircut with a blunt knife.

A frayed, brown shirt clung to his broad shoulders, its missing buttons replaced with a dirty white string to fasten it. His worn tan trousers stopped abruptly at his shins, exposing the sheepskin shoes that swaddled his large feet.

With a sigh, the man's sullen face gently fell to the table.

The house was a testament to their miserable existence. To the left of the entrance, a set of thrown away boards hastily nailed to latch, was a tiny kitchen space that told tales of modest and sparse meals. A potbelly stove sat next to a pantry with dwindling supplies. A mishmash of chipped clay pots and worn wooden spoons laid haphazardly on the shelves.

Beside the kitchen, a couple of wooden stools and a scarred table marked the living area. A pair of handcrafted wooden stools and a table constituted the living space adjacent to the kitchen. Tucked away in a corner were six beds, their simple straw mattresses covered by heavily used, hand-sewn blankets.

Sixteen copper coins reflected the dimming light of the sunset, stealing their last chance to twinkle one more time before night fell.

Without warning, the door burst open. Startled, the man spun around to witness a lively torrent of five children cascading into the house. With a sound of surprise, he quickly scraped his hand over the table, gathering the scattered coins from the table and grimacing as a splinter lodged itself into his calloused skin. Concealing a wince brought a smile to his face as he pocketed the coins, keeping his discomfort hidden from the innocent eyes of his children.

Despite his swift actions, he couldn't elude the perceptive gaze of the eldest child's purple eyes. At twelve years old, she carried an air of maturity far beyond her tender years, a childhood innocence robbed by the premature loss of her mother. Her skin, kissed by the sun, bore a light tan, giving her a look of youthful vigor. Her cascading hair of long ebony waves fell to her shoulders a black keeping it off her face. She had a sharp gaze to her eyes as they bore into her father.

Running ahead of her were her two younger brothers. There was only a year between them one would think they would be similar, however; the only tie between the two was their hair. Both boys had long hair painted as red as fire. The eldest of the two, barely nine, wore a boyish face below a mop of unruly red hair. His eyes, a familiar shade of brown, mirrored his father.

The younger brother was a stark contrast, with a slightly square face. His reddish locks were slightly shorter, the traces of the last haircut still visible. His round cheeks still bore traces of youthful chubbiness, and a natural curiosity shimmered in his auburn eyes, which frequently flickered around the room, absorbing every detail of their humble home.

The youngest siblings of the group were two sisters, twins, who always carried a bit more of their father's affection with them. Their uncanny resemblance to his late wife made them precious reminders of a love lost too soon. Their radiant auburn eyes, mimicking their mother's, seemed to glow with youthful innocence, while their fiery red hair, neatly trimmed to shoulder length, stood as a testament to a neighbor's kindness.

These five-year-old cherubs dashed towards their father. Their high-pitched voices chimed in a harmonious chorus, "Pappa!"

With a warm smile on his face, the father greeted his little daughters, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Yet, it was a false reflection of joy. One he often wore in front of the children. It was mostly successful. going largely unnoticed, a melancholy echo of joy veiled by a father's love. His eldest daughter, however, was not easily fooled. She frowned subtly as he interacted with her sisters.

"Rose, Lily!" He called to the twins, catching them as they launched themselves into his arms. The sight of their smiling faces ignited a genuine warmth in his smile, their innocence momentarily easing his worries. With practiced ease, he hoisted them up into his arms. "Did you have fun?" he inquired.

"Yay!" The twins exclaimed in unison, their tiny arms embracing his sturdy form.

His attention shifted towards his sons. "Reed, Asher," he addressed them, "did you have a good day?"

Reed, the elder of the two, beamed with pride, holding up his basket. "I found a whole lot of mushrooms!" he exclaimed. True to his claim, the basket brimmed with fungi of varying shades of fungus—white, red, and brown.

"We helped!" chirped Rose, her words punctuated with youthful enthusiasm. "Lots of digging!" Lily added.

“Indeed, you did! Good job!” He said, praising his children as he playfully ruffled his daughter's heads. his approval ignited a spark of happiness in their eyes.

This familiar exchange continued as Ravina walked inside holding two baskets of her own. One was brimming with medicinal herbs - Comfrey for bone injuries, Calendula for skin healing, Yarrow for wounds, and feverfew for headaches. As always there were a few familiar plants she knew would sell but didn't know what they were.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

The other basket held a humble assortment of cabbages and other cooking ingredients, each chosen with care for their affordability. Dried peas, a few root vegetables, and a handful of wilting spinach would all lend their flavors to the evening's dinner.

Depositing her bounty of herbs near the entrance, she cradled the second basket to the kitchen. Her hands moved with the precision of experience as she set to prepare the family's meal.

"I found a boar!" Asher, the youngest son, piped up.

His father's eyebrow arched at the announcement, a flicker of worry passing over his rough-hewn features. "Did you now?" he probed gently, his voice dipping with cautious curiosity.

Beneath his father's attention, Asher seemed to shrink, his gaze falling to the wooden floor. "But I lost it," he admitted, his words shrinking with him.

A hushed sigh of relief escaped the father's lips. "I see, but it seems like you're getting better at spotting these animals," he was worried but knew any warning would be seen as a challenge. So he held his tongue.

"I could have hunted it if I had a bow!" he blurted out, his gray eyes sparkling with the ambition of a budding huntsman. "If only I had a bow!"

"Ah, yes, the ever elusive bow," their father replied with a feigned nonchalance, masking his concern under a thin veil of humor. "Well, I hope you've been a good boy then. You know what the New Year means," he mused, all too well aware of their financial constraints.

"But that's what you said last year!" Asher exclaimed, disappointed at his father's usual answer.

At his son's retort, the father's facade crumbled. His frame stiffened, the playful smile dying on his lips. The room fell silent, punctuated by the father's faltering attempts to regain his composure. Each sputter of sound was a struggle to keep the harsh reality hidden from his children. Only his pride stood as the only bulwark against the oncoming tide.

"Reed, come help me with the cabbage," Ravina interjected promptly, smoothly shifting attention away from their father. He cast a brief, guilt-ridden glance toward Ravina. It was not the first time she had intervened for his sake.

"What! Why do I have to do it?" Reed grumbled at his sister's command.

"Reed!" Ravina's tone hardened, causing the boy to flinch.

“Ah, c-come on Asher!” he said before scrambling to his older sister's side.

“Why do I have to come?” Asher complained but still followed his older brother.

As the girls found their seats on the petite wooden chairs, their playful giggles filled the room. Their father, however, could only manage distracted half-smiles as he anxiously watched his eldest with worried eyes. There was something cold about her actions. He played at the splinter in his hand as he listened to his daughter's delightful day.

For some time the small home was filled with the lively banter of children and the spell of boiling cabbage. The boys clumsily assisted with dinner, their well-intended efforts resulting in more mess than progress. Still, Ravina welcomed the mess because soon enough dinner was ready.

They ate the food with more than a little disappointment at the contents. Though none of them would dare complain about having to eat cabbage stew again, that didn't stop them from showcasing their disappointment. They try to ignore their meal or pretend to eat by prodding the stew, however Ravina wouldn't let them get away with it.

Meanwhile, the children regaled their father with tales of their latest forest exploration. Their eyes sparkled with youthful excitement as they animatedly described encounters with rabbits, birds, and other woodland creatures. Their father, managing their enthusiastic chatter, responded with warm affirmations and chuckled at their shared enthusiasm.

So the meal continued. The kids talked, their father laughed and Ravina encouraged them to eat. She quickly finished her meal and turned her attention to organizing the day's harvest for the market. She needed to get to the market early so that she could get a good price and they didn't have the luxury of candles.

Eventually, the lively chatter gradually started to ebb away. It had been a long day for the children and the relaxing meal had settled them. Now with bellies full the kids could barely keep an eye open. The father smiled at his sleepy children. "Off to bed now!" he declared, lifting himself from his chair.

"But I'm not tired yet," Reed protested, his mouth opening wide as a large yawn fell from his small body.

"Yeah, yeah," the father responded, amusement lightly lacing his voice. He scooped up the twins, Rose and Lily, in his arms and ushered the boys to bed. "It's time. Off you go."

"But Rina gets to stay up!" the twins collectively objected, holding onto their father with small hands. Their eyes closed.

“That's because your father and I need to talk," Ravina replied, her voice lacing the room with the same chill that seeped in through the broken wooden walls. She had managed to pack the sellable goods into a single basket, sadly not even half-full. The ones she couldn't sell they would keep for themselves.

Reed scampered to his modest bed at Ravina's stern words. He knew that tone and decided to safely hide in his bed, though he felt bad for his father. Aster followed closely behind his older brother.

“Rina, don't bully Daddy!” Lilly muttered, her droopy eyes affixed on her sister. Her boldness receded as her older sister's gaze landed on her. The child's words were a small wound to Ravina, but she wore a soft smile for her as she began to clear the empty wooden bowls while their father tucked the children in.

“Good luck, Daddy,” Rose murmured, surrendering to the embrace of sleep now that she was wrapped up in a blanket.

Eventually, the children fell asleep and father and daughter found themselves seated at the table. A soft tune of peaceful breaths filling the air.

"How bad?" Ravina queried, her whisper scarcely louder than the night's silence, ensuring her siblings remained unaware.

"It's not that bad," he responded, his voice barely audible, but the shame weighed heavy in his bowed head.

"Finn," she gently chided, invoking her father's name. "How bad is it, really?"

His fingers twitched restlessly, a sense of misery washing over him. It felt like an eternity since she had looked up to him. With a defeated sigh, he drew out the coins from his pocket, laying them on the table. His hand lingered over them, one last desperate attempt to shield his shame.

Unfortunately, his daughter gave him all the time he needed. So, reluctantly, he lifted his hands, revealing the meager collection of eight coins.

"This little left…" Ravina murmured a shaking whisper. Fear sank a chill into her bones. Their financial situation couldn't possibly be this dire.

"I could make more by selling the saw," he suggested hopefully.

"We've already sold the saw, and the hammer too," Ravina countered, shaking her head.

"Oh." He didn't argue, only acknowledging the grim reality. “How… How's the harvest?”

"We can fetch about 23 from the market. Possibly less if we trade some for meat."

"We’ll be fine," he attempted to reassure her.

"Fine? We owe 50 to the Braymores and another 40 to the Calliums."

"I’ll think of something."

"We can't keep borrowing more, Finn!"

A flash of anger flickered across his face as Ravina's words lacerated his pride. The gravity of their predicament was catching up with him. He brought down his open palm on the wooden table. Splintering and cracking under his enraged weight.

Guilt washed over him as he saw the flicker of fear in his daughter's eyes. The quickness of her recovery was even more heart-wrenching.

“Brein owes me,” he muttered after he calmed down.

“Brein owes everyone,” Ravina replied. “He's the only one worse than you,” she muttered under her breath, falling silent as she fell into thought.

Finn sat frozen in place, an unsettling numbness settling in his core. Once upon a time, he was capable. A proper man that was able to provide for his family. His world had crumbled after his wife's death, his composure and judgment slipping away. His knuckles turned white, reflecting the memory of that ill-fated punch thrown at Greves.

That one act cost him his respectable job as a woodsman and replaced it with the lowly task of portering charcoal to the market, an act of pity extended by Kutter. Yet even this was only possible because Ravina had taken over his responsibilities and yanked him out of his alcoholic drowned sorrows. If only she could have intervened sooner. He clenched his fists, halting his train of thought. No, he chided himself, it was his fault, not hers. Shifting blame was a bitter temptation, a convenient escape from facing his failures.

The silence of the room was cut by Ravina. “We're not going to make it.”

"We'll be fine," he retorted, waving off her concerns with an air of nonchalance that seemed almost forced.

Ravina remained quiet, her gaze lowering as the sun retreated from the sky. The encroaching darkness wrapped itself around their modest home like a blanket.