by David Yazel
Garryl Woodson finished chopping another cord of wood and leaned heavily on his axe. It had been a long day and the sun was starting to set on the horizon. His mother would be calling everyong to dinner soon and he could already smell the rich aromas from her kitchen. As one of seven brothers and five sisters he sometimes felt lost in the rush and business of their growing farm. For a long time now he had felt chafed within the confines of his father's business and had recently made the decision to leave the farm and forge his own destiny. He picked up the axe and took it into the barn for sharpening, oiling and storage before heading into the house.
The heat and smells of the house assailed his senses when he opened the door, and the sound of the busy house washed over him. He heard his younger siblings laughing in the main room, accompanied by the lilting voice of his mother as she placed platters of food on the table.
"Hi Mom," he said and gave her a quick hug.
Her eyes twinkled as she looked at her strapping young son. "Did you finish the wood pile? I know your father plans on having the boys stack the wood in the morning"
"Yes ma`am, it`s all done." He glanced at the fire which was burning down. "Let me bring some in for the fire before dinner" [Fires need wood, lamps need oil, etc to work]
She smiled, "That would be great son... ", she paused, "are you planning on telling your father tonight... about your plans to leave?"
Garryl considered for a moment, "Yes, it is past time. If I don`t leave before the first storms I will be stuck here through the next winter. " He shrank inside at the thought of another long winter on the farm. As he made his way outside to the woodstack he considered how best to approach the subject with his father, a man who had tended the farm his entire life, like generations before him.
He was still muling it over when he sat down at the table with his family for dinner. After the blessing he sat there and stared at his food, trying to get the courage up to speak.
His father noticed he was not eating, "Garryl, why arn`t you eating... from that size of that wood pile out there I would think you would have worked up an appetite."
Garryl flushed, "Sorry sir, I am just thinking...", he let the words hang there in the air. He started to speak and then hesitated.
"Spit it out boy, you look like a troll has got your tongue." His father stabbed at a piece of meat and wolfed it down, but the intensity of his gaze did not diminish.
Garryl swallowed and then chose his words, "I have decided to seek a hunting apprenticeship in Netherese before the snow falls." He waited for the response.
His father`s face reddened as he considered the import of what he had just heard. "You mean you want to spend some of the winter`s respite learning how to build a some more traps from your uncle, but plan on being back here for spring planting?"
His father`s tone brooked no disagreement, but Garryl knew he had to make a stand. "No, I mean I will be leaving the farm to become a hunter by profession." His voice cracked once and then steadied, "It is what I am good at, it is what I need to do. I am not cut out for the life of a farmer."
"And what is wrong with the life of the farmer?", his father practically shouted. His mother placed a hand on her husband`s arm and for a long moment there was a silent tableau. Then without warning his father rose and stormed outside, slamming the door behind him.
Garryl sighed, "Well that went well"
His mother tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, "You know your father loves this farm, he just can`t beleive that anyone would not feel the same as he." She let a sad smile come to her face, "He will come to realize this is best for you, although he will probably always hope for you to come back."
The next day Garryl awoke before dawn and packed his few meager belongings. For clothing he had an extra woolen smock, a change of woolen underclothes and a thick woven blanket which could also double as a cape. He tucked the hand axe that had been a gift on his tenth birthday into his belt. A flint and steel went into an oiled leather pouch along with some loose wool to act as tinder. Finally he pulled a small leather bag from under a loose board and opened it. Twenty copper pennies was all he had saved his entire life. They felt so weighty in his hand, each one having a story to tell, each one the result of hard work and good fortune. He closed the small bag and tied it securely to his belt. [Items are representative of those a starting character might have]
Moving in the near darkness he made his way to the kitchen. On the table he was suprised to see a small packet of food with a note from his mother, "You will always be in my prayers. May the Mother smile on you all of your life - Mom" Blinking back sudden tears, Garryl took the package of food and added it his bag before unbaring the door and slipping outside. He thought wistfully of the bow hanging in the main room, but knew that his father and his brothers would need it far more than he. Their bow was considered one of the family`s most precious possessions aside from their land, their house and their horse. He hoped that one day he would have a bow of his own.
The sky had just started to lighten as he made his way to the path at the edge of the field bordering the house. A chorus of birds greeted him as strode along the familiar path, weeds wet with dew spreading a pattern of small droplets across the tops of his oiled boots. The heaviness of his heart gave way to a certain contentment as the morning matured and by the time the sun was halfway up the sky he found himself whistling a jaunty tune.
* * *
Over the next two days Garryl went first to the local hamlet of Nir and from there traveled to the town of Netherese...
To be continued..