So, what now? I guess I should walk towards the village. But I want father. Father had already disappeared into the woods behind me. That damn old bastard.
“Are you alright, girl?” asked a very tall, older man, already with grey hair and a braided beard that reached his bellybutton. He was carrying a very broad log, probably for making planks out of it. “Are you lost?” he seemed worried about me. He noticed my bag, and gave me a smile. “Do you plan on settling down here? Or are you just passing?”
“I… guess…settle…?” I really didn’t know what to say. The old man widened the smile. He thought it was funny. A confused little girl with a heavy, weird accent had just appeared out of nowhere with a bag and wanted to settle a tiny village no one ever heard of.
“Come with me, then. I’ll show you around.” he led me towards the houses, greeting other workers that we passed by, all of them giving me a smile, a wave, or a nod.
I had never been so afraid. These people… they were different. Father wasn’t like that! Why were they so tall? I wanted to cry, to run back to father and continue the life that he had given me.
“What about your parents? Did they abandon you, or did you run away?” I panicked. Father wasn’t like them. Do I tell the truth? Or do I give him a lie to satiate his curiosity? “Too sensitive of topic? I apologize if I was a bit insensitive, kid.” my eyes were watering with the simple thought of not seeing father ever again.
“Who’s that?” a little boy, about ten years old, came running towards the old man. The boy was energetic, too energetic, in my opinion. He carried with him a few tools. “I don’t recognize her.” the boy stared at my face with curiosity, his face mere centimeters from mine. “What is your name?”
“Kod Kuraqh so Niwt[1]” I said, causing the old man to stop and turn around to face me. The boy too, stopped, and then started to laugh.
“That’s a weird name. Where are you from?” the man kept walking, while the boy started examining me. “Why do you use your hair like this?” the boy also asked, while staring at my hair that I had in a bun, leaving only a lock of hair falling from under the bun.
“According to my name, the woods.” I answered, surprising both of them. “And I use it like this because father did my hair.”
“You can live here.” He stopped in front of an old, rustic house that had an open door, leading to the dining room. The room was simple: a table and five chairs. To the right, another door led to the kitchen, where a woman in her late thirties cooked dinner, while surrounded by three children, all of them helping. The oldest was a girl, not three years older than me that was peeling potatoes. Her hair was a very light red hair, closing a blonde, braided and very close to reaching her coccyx. The second was a boy the same age as me that was plucking feathers from a chicken. His hair was brown and cut very short. The youngest was so young he still walked on all fours and he was sitting on the floor, mashing something with a mortar and pestle.
“Meet Lezine, she takes care of the children while we work.” Lezine, hearing her name, turned around to look at the door, where we were standing. She had a very calm look in her eyes and a sweet smile on her face. Her hair was a golden blond that fell over her face. She was wearing a very simple, if not crude, white and brown dress, dirty and patched at places. She walked closer and crouched in front of me.
“Oh, and you are?” she examined me, but more cautiously and politely.
“Codi Curarri so Niu.” the boy that had been following us tried to say my name.
“Kod Kuraqh so Niwt.” I corrected him, while the woman let out a silent laugh.
“Well, this boy by your side is called Milo.” She pointed at him. “That girl is called Sonese.” She pointed at the girl, who waved her knife at me and gave me a smile. “That boy is Geno.” He waved a feather at me with a smile so silly, it reminded of my euphoric father. “And the small one is called Suno.” The little boy was so focused in smashing whatever that was, that he didn’t even notice his name being called. “Do you want to learn how to cook?” she asked, inviting me inside the kitchen.
“I already know how to cook.” I answered prideful.
“I will be going now, if you don’t mind.” The old man said, while walking away.
“Well then, mind helping us?” she offered me to enter the kitchen, an invite I accepted. The food was already halfway done, so I did basically nothing but keep watch on the fire, not that I didn’t enjoy doing so. The food was simple, like everything else, also something I enjoyed. Like I expected, during the meal, in came the torrent of questions. “Where are you from? Why did you come here of all places? What do you like to do? Are those books? Can you read? What are your parents like?” Lezine tried to stop the questions, but the ferocity in which the kids poured them was a bit too much for the poor woman.
“The forest. I was left here. Fishing and drinking. Yes. Yes. Father is awesome.” I spat out answers just as fast as they made the questions, each one of them giving them a weirder surprise. I did not stick around after the meal; instead, I stole a fishing rod and went searching for a pond or river. I chose to go southeast, where after a good hour of walking I found a river that flowed towards south. I walked around a bit, searching for worms, but only managed to find six. I sat in the river bank, put the bait in the hook and threw it in the river. After a while, a fish bit the bait and I pulled the fish back to land.
I repeated that cycle five more times, and five more times I caught a fish. I looked up and estimated that I had about two more hours before sunset, so I decided to light a campfire and cook one the fishes to eat. Finding sticks was easy, they were everywhere. The hard part was finding decent rocks to start the fire. Took me about half an hour to find the rocks and light the sparks that lit the leaves. By the time I finished cooking and eating, it was almost time for sunset, so I made my way back with the other fishes, and by the time I arrived, it was already dark.
“So, how was your day?” Lezine was waiting for me by the house door, but no longer with her calming smile, instead, she had a serious look, filled with disappointment and disdain. She had her chin up, while looking down at me, a look I had never received before. The other kids were inside the house, peeking to see what was going on. “Did you have fun?”
I suddenly embodied my father’s jackass spirit, and felt the urge to challenge her patience. I simply opened a wide smile and cheerfully, almost fiercely, nodded. “Yes, I had so much fun.” I then proceeded to present my catch. “Look at what I caught for everyone.” I raised my hand with the five remaining fish, omitting the fact that I had already eaten one, so it looked like I actually thought about them. Unfortunately, showing the fish only made her ease the mood, the opposite of what I wanted. I guess she just was one of those people who cannot get mad.
“Good. Why don’t you make dinner, since you have the ingredients in your hands? And make sure to wash the dishes and pots after we eat.” she was a bit pissed. Apparently, the house rules are that everyone helps with everything. But I ran away, leaving the others to do the duties without me, so now it was my turn to do everything while they rested. Oh, well, I guess I had it coming.
I decided to make something simple: fish and potatoes. But, like I had said before, I know how to cook, so it wasn’t bad. Or at least not that bad. Cleaning wasn’t that bad either, though I really don’t like it. I finished doing everything before the so called “bed time” that Lezine talked about, so I made the very same question father loved so much: “Where is the tavern?”
Lezine looked at me with a confused look. “What? Why?” So I said the only possible answer.
“To drink until I can no longer remember my name. What else do you do at night in a tavern?” she looked astonished, with a small gap slowly opening between her lips. It was then that I received my first reprimand. She yelled at me, saying things like “Where did you learn such things!?” and “How old do you think you are!?” the basic reprimand that I already expected. I quietly stood there, pretending to actually care to what she said. After what felt ages, she finally stopped.
“So… Where is it?” I simply said, with a very serious face, looking straight into her eyes. She almost started all over again, but gave up and sent me to my room. I then remembered what the old man said: the kids only stayed during the day, so I had a room all for myself for the first time in my life. Of course, something had to squash my hopes like a cockroach. The boy who had followed me, Milo, was there, searching through my bag.
“What do you think you are doing you little prick!?” I always wanted to call someone that, and I had finally found someone younger than me to say it. I charged towards him, grabbing my bag and quickly shoving my clothes and books back inside.
“Is this real gold?” he had my bracelet in his hands, and was examining it as thoroughly. The bracelet was of pure gold, shining because of the moonlight that entered the room through the gaps in the windows. The bracelet was encrusted with black stones, surrounded by careful, detailed engravings that went from end to end. The boy seemed to be hypnotized by the artifact, an artifact of such superb craftsmanship that it was inhumane. I quickly snatched the bracelet from his hands and shoved it inside the bag. “Is that real?” he asked, awed.
“It’s none of you concern.” after the small and short-lived confront, I finally looked around the room. Like every other thing in the house, or in the village, it was extra simple: two beds and a nightstand for each in between them. There were three windows that even when closed, let in small beams of light.
Milo simply let me look around the room while he took off his clothes and put on a white nightdress that was too big for him and jumped into one of the beds. “This one is mine.” He said, as if jumping on it wasn’t already enough for me to notice. But I had no intention of going to sleep, it was too early, I wasn’t sleepy in the slightest, but the most important: I still had the motor coordination to write my full name. I took some small gold coins that I had hidden in a secret pocket in the bag (courtesy of father). The coins were of poor quality, and way too tiny, but was enough for getting me piss drunk.
I opened one of the windows and started climbing it making the least possible amount of noise. “What are you doing?” Milo was staring at me, curious as always. I simply opened a foul smile, and made a hand signal telling Milo to follow me. He slowly got up from his bed and took my hand. His curiosity overpowered his common sense. I pulled him up and helped him climb. I jumped to the yard and called for him to jump. The height that for a normal person is really short, for him, seemed like meters and meters. I opened my arms, as if to catch him, and he seemed to trust me. He closed his eyes and jumped, and when he landed, I caught him in my arms, hugging him. He was only two or three centimeters shorter than me, which surprised me, either he was tall, or I was short. Or a bit of both.
“Where are yo-” I interrupted him to correct his question. “Where are we going?” I simply ignored him and kept pulling him by his hands. We were now out in the streets, and I started looking around. I just had to find the building with light and laughter, which was rather easy, since the village was so small. The tavern was down the street and to the right, so I pulled Milo and started to stride towards the light and the noise.
We arrived in front of the building and stood there for a few seconds, then entered. Everyone looked at us, some hiding their drinks and pretending to be sober. I dragged Milo over to the counter and forced him to sit, though I had to give him a boost, then I climbed the seat and stared at the owner. He was a man in his late forties, with short, brown hair and a short but bushy beard. He was a bit chubby, something that somehow fit his style. He looked at us with a somehow hostile look in his eyes. “What do you brats want?”
“WE,” I grabbed Milo’s hand as he attempted to run away. “We want drinks.” I grabbed one golden coin and put it in the counter. “The strongest you have.” The man looked at it, then at me, and then he picked up the coin to inspect it. After some moments, he looked at me with suspicion.
“Where did you get this, kid?” he threw the coin at me.
“A present from my father.” I answered simply. He looked at me and at Milo, with a look that neared anger.
“And you are going to waste it in alcohol?” he seemed to be more worried about how I waste my money rather than my age.
“Why do you think he left me that for?” I once again opened a foul, devilish smile that inspired him to open one of his own. He took the coin again and got a tankard for each of us. I simply took mine with both hands, one in each side of the container, and chugged it down with ease. Meanwhile, Milo was struggling with both holding, and drinking. The poor boy was the butt of the jokes for the rest of the night. While he kept struggling with his first cup, I just kept chugging it down faster than some of the adults in the room. I then made the test to know whether I had had enough or not: writing my own name, and, let me tell you, I failed it horribly. I wrote it perfectly! After more than five servings! “Give me more!” I shouted and slammed a coin in the counter, scaring Milo, who almost spilt his freshly served second tankard.
Milo couldn’t stand the taste of the alcohol, poor boy, couldn’t appreciate a good beverage. By the time I had drunk a few more servings, I made the test again, though this time I had no idea whether I had passed or failed. Finally! “Milo! We are going home. Now.” I jumped down from the seat and pulled him down, making him fall in his ass. “Sorry!” I said while I walked out and pulled him to follow me. “Goodnight everybody! Good to meet you all!” We were out in the streets and soon we were back home. I was surprised when I found myself calling that house ‘home’. Doesn’t matter.
“Milo!” I whispered because we were in front of the open window. “You climb first.” I made the pose to boost him up, hands together, fingers interlaced. He put his foot in my hands and I raised my hands, making so that he climbed the window with ease. When he extended his arm for me, I refused. “I’ll stay here.” I lay down in the yard’s grass. “Goodnight, Milo.” He waved at me and jumped down inside.
I like to think that, wherever he is, father is proud of me. And maybe of Milo. I thought of him, caressing his long beard as he laughed. “Goodnight, father.”
[1] Kod = Child; so Niwt = from, of the forest639Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWblGiGAxan
