Fate

By Lisa M. Hoffman

The island of Sanzu is in unknown turmoil. When humans begin forgetting how to respect nature, the spirits of the land begin to wither and die. From the sorrow and suffering of the spirits a deep hatred is born, seeking to destroy everything in its path. Only the birth of a special being spoken of by the ancient keepers can restore balance. But what happens when that one has no recollection of who she is or where shes from? Cheza has lived her life in Sacama village since she was five years old. Her life has been quiet and peaceful until someone precious to her is taken away. From that moment, her life begins to fall apart as one thing after another shakes the foundation of her life. Now she must reunite herself with the only blood family she has left and travel the lands of Sanzu, collecting a precious item from the spirits to unite the lands against the evil that threatens them. But will she be able to when it means losing everything she knows and loves?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 3, 2010
• ISBN: 9781450056199

Lisa M. Hoffman

I was born to a single parent family and was raised by my mother and her family. I grew up in the small south central town of Ripon in Wisconsin. In the eighth grade I moved to Markesan Wisconsin, located only twenty minutes from Ripon. When I started school I wasn’t able to make friends easily so I turned to books as an escape to other worlds. Over time I started writing short stories with fantastic and supernatural possibilities. After graduating from Markesan High School in 2008, I began classes at Madison’s Herzing University, at the time Herzing College.

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Copyright © 2010 by Lisa M. Hoffman.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Table of Contents

Sleepy Village

Fate’s Cruelty

Reality Lost

Time to Heal

Forest

Keepers’ Words

Legacy

Gathering of Power Pt 1

Gathering of Power Pt 2

Death of a King

Cheza’s Fate

Thanks to my mom who encouraged me to keep going

no matter what, my family who always taught

me to be creative and think outside the box,

and to Katie and Lacy who were the best

friends I could ever ask for.

Event 1

The wind blew gently over the old cracked road; worn over time and neglect. Its grey face stared up at the sky, covered in craters and wrinkles; in some places weeds had wormed their way through the asphalt that had buckled up and now smugly stood where they had firmly rooted themselves.

The old road separated the village of Sacama to the north, from the canyon of Kunbi to the south.

Deep within the chasm’s chestnut walls snaked the Kunbi river; a small stretch of water not ten feet across. Beyond the gorge stood the proud and ancient forest of Kuimbi—named after an ancient spirit said to guard all who dwell within it.

The thick branches of the trees stretched out in all directions as if to grab anyone who ventured near like the gnarled fingers of an old witch.

It was often said by some that on the night of a full moon, one can see the silhouette of the Great Spirit as he prowls the boundaries of his domain. He is said, by those who’ve been lucky enough or otherwise, to have seen him, to take on the form of a giant black wolf with glowing red eyes as red as blood.

But our story begins not in the thick trees of the Kuimbi forest but in the world outside. Our tale takes us over the wide, cragged mouth of Kunbi canyon, over the old road, through the tall flitting meadow grass, and into the small farming community of Sacama village.

Now, most of the large island of Sanzu’s cities live with all modern conveniences: cars, television, phones, etc. Sacama, instead, remains rooted in the ways of living off the land though they dress and speak as any modern outsider, and have a few modern amenities like indoor plumbing and electricity. However, such things as television, radio, phones, and computers are strictly forbidden for they threaten to drive Sacama into the modern world.

As for the village itself, it is a quiet town that has little to nothing to do with the outside world. Their only interaction with the modern world is the purchase of materials they can’t produce themselves and the selling their own goods. Aside from an occasional lost sightseer, there are few visitors.

Chez? A young man of sixteen dashed through the town square. His sneakers beat against the hard gravel of the streets with a rhythmic thud, thud, thud.

Hey Eric, a gruff voice called out from a small blacksmith stand. The old man inside straightened his raggedy cap as he walked out into the bright sunlight. His dark, leathery skin was burned in some spots from his work; his hands were covered in calluses and scars from burns and gashes. A normal hazard for his line of work. Where ya off to in such a hurry?

Eric sauntered over to the old man, combing his fingers through his honey brown hair. His lively emerald eyes surveyed even the slightest movement around him. Afternoon Mr. Hatchen. I was looking for Cheza. You haven’t seen her around, by chance, have you?

Nah. Haven’t seen her since she finished at Jacklyn’s. Sorry.

Oh man…well, thanks anyways. At least that narrows down where she could be. Once again the boy took off, waving back at the old man as he went. Thanks Mr. Hatchen!

No sweat kid! Hey, when you see Cheza tell ‘er I said hi!

Will do.

The streets were bustling with people of all shapes and sizes, from elderly grandparents taking their grandchildren shopping to the smallest baby being carried in its mother’s loving arms, but Cheza was nowhere to be found. ‘Alright, so Old Man Hatchen hasn’t seen her since she got off work. That means she hasn’t been in the square for a good hour, if not more. So I’ll try her house next. If she isn’t there then it’s anyone’s guess.’

Eric dashed through the small alleys between houses and shops, jumping crates and barrels like he was in a hurdle race.

Truth was it was much faster taking the roads but he couldn’t help but love the challenge the obstacles of the alleyways presented him.

It was always a dream of his to live in the forest and make a living of his own off the land; the ultimate obstacle that needed to be overcome. The only problem was that he had to convince his family to let him. His mother and father were extremely protective of him, being their youngest child and all.

‘Once I convince them to let me go I’ll cross Kunbi canyon and make a home in Kuimbi Forest.’

Yo, Eric! a familiar voice caught the boy’s ear. He staggered as he slowed before turning to his older brother; a boy of eighteen years with hair a few shades darker than his own.

What’s up Matt?

Matt hoisted a bag of chicken feed off their father’s old cart. He passed it along to one of the mill hands before proceeding to beat some of the dust from his shirt and trousers. Mind giving me a hand? It’ll go twice as fast with you helping.

Uh…yeah…okay, sure. Eric glanced around in hopes of avoiding carting around those old burlap sacks stuffed to the brim with cracked corn. But it was no use. Everyone was busy with their own chores and tasks. With a reluctant grunt Eric took one of the bags. I hate this job. You’re lucky you only have to do it for another couple months.

Yeah. Then I’m finally done with my apprenticeship. I’ll know all I need to live on my own and run a successful farm. Matt wiped the sweat from his brow. Then Kim and I will finally have our own place and I’ll be able to hire someone else to do this.

Sounds nice.

What about you little bro? You started as an apprentice the same age I did yet you haven’t paid attention to half of what Dad’s shown us. How do you plan on supporting yourself, much less a family?

Eric hitched up the cart gate when Matt took the last bag. Had he taken it, his brother’s comment would have startled him into dropping it on his foot. And, unlike his brother who was wearing the proper foot gear for handling such heavy items, he only wore thin strips of white leather that had been stained grey over time, sewn to one another, tied with spaghetti-like laces and finished off with rubber soles. Nothing in his shoes could protect his feet from the crushing weight of a single bag. Whoa. Who said anything about a family? I’m only sixteen.

You’re sweet on that Kellis girl aren’t you?

You mean Cheza? The boy’s face was touched by a faint blush. Yeah I like her but…

But what little bro? You can’t live your life without planning for the future. You have to be ready for anything that may happen.

"I am! …Sort of…But it’s not like she and I are going to do…that anytime soon so I don’t have to worry about it."

Matt slinked around the cart where the old grey and brown mule stood patiently, chewing on a clump of grass. Well you better figure it out fast. He took hold of the mule’s reins and led her away. Before you know it your life will be over and you’ll lay there wondering why the hell you wasted your youth.

Eric snorted when he resumed his search again. Though he wasn’t as enthusiastic as he had been. ‘I actually envy him; I envy them all. They go through life not wanting anything beyond what Sacama gives them, anything beyond what they’re born with. Matt and I are both sons of a farmer yet only Matt wants to follow in his footsteps. Why is it I’m so different? Why is it I want to go outside the village to the forest?’

The young teen wandered around to every spot Cheza usually frequented but no one had seen her. It had been well into an hour of searching when he finally collapsed against an old barn just outside the village, not at all worried about the skeleton of wood collapsing behind him. He slid down into the dry dirt and tall grass, panting. Sweat bubbled on his face before slowly trickling down and finally falling to the ground. A small cloud of dirt erupted where they fell.

Damn it. Where…could she…be?

Hmm, hmm, hmm, nah, nah, dah. A softly hummed song drifted through the meadow grass. Eric’s ears perked up. He followed the velvety singing into the meadow, wondering where such a sound was coming from, until he tripped over something and fell, face first, into the dirt. The singing stopped abruptly. Oww! Watch where you’re going!

Sorry.

Oh, Eric, it’s you. What are you doing here?

Eric sat up, brushed the dirt, leaves and grass from his clothes, and turned to a petite girl with long brown hair and bright blue eyes. So this is where you’ve been, Chez. No wonder I couldn’t find you. He glanced around them in wonder. The grass of the meadow was well kept but tall enough that it reached far above their heads. If anyone wanted to find them they’d have to be avidly searching. This is one hell of a hiding spot.

Uh, thanks. I wasn’t really trying to hide but thanks.

Hey, what was that song you were singing?

"I think it’s called the Ballad of the Forest; it doesn’t have any words though, you just hum to it. Cheza sat up, combing the grass and leaves from her long hair. But I can’t seem to remember where on earth I heard it from."

"Ballad of the Forest huh? Sounds…not strange but-"

Like it doesn’t fit here?

Eric nodded absently.

I felt the same. Perhaps it’s because this place is not the forest. It does seem strange to sing a song to the forest when there’s no forest around you. Cheza paused for a moment, staring up at the pristine sky far above their heads. I don’t know why but whenever I sing it I can almost feel the forest around me: the sun dancing through the tree canopy, birds chirping at their mates to find nesting materials, even the far off howl of a wolf pack after a kill. I felt so…at home.

Maybe it’s some of your repressed memories, like the doctor told us about.

You mean from before I came here?

Mm-hmm. You were five when we found you. So you have at least a couple years of solid memories locked away somewhere in your mind. Maybe your old home was in a forest?

Maybe…

A soft breeze danced across the gorge and through the grass, rustling the dried weeds with its invisible hand. Buried in the familiar scents of the wildflowers and meadow grass around them lingered an unknown scent.

Cheza turned her head as the gentle wind caressed the tall plants around them. She immediately picked out the strange smell it concealed.

‘This smell…’ the girl thought as the breeze wafted by. ‘It seems so familiar…’

Anyways. Eric cleared his throat. The girl turned her attention back to him, giving up on trying to identify the strangely familiar scent. The reason I was looking for you. My mom wants to invite you and your mom over for dinner to celebrate your birthday.

But my birthday isn’t until tomorrow.

Yeah. My dad and Matt are going to Gaitvale tomorrow so they won’t be here. Our families are so close, you know. So mom suggested we celebrate a day early instead of a day late.

I guess that makes sense. Now that I think about it we’ve been celebrating every holiday and birthday with your family. Cheza swept her hair off her shoulder. Eric watched her with content curiosity. He didn’t seem to consider the possibility of her glancing over at him and catching him gawking. It would be strange to celebrate without anyone. So I guess we’ll be over tonight.

Alright. Eric stood and brushed his jeans off. Then I guess I’ll see you later. Dad’s expecting me back soon. He waved as he headed back to the village.

As he wandered through the streets toward his family’s farm, his mind wandered back to the days before and after Cheza had first come to the village.

When she’d come to Sacama she was only five, though she spoke with the intelligence of an adult, with not even the slightest memory of where she’d come from or of the family she left behind. The widow, Cynthia Kellis, took her in and raised her as her own with the help of Eric’s family. And since Eric and Cheza were around the same age they became fast friends.

‘…I still remember back when I first met Chez,’ Eric thought lazily. ‘The minute I looked into her eyes everything felt different; like I was seeing the world through new eyes.’ He kicked at the small pebbles that stood in his shoe’s path. ‘The more time I spent with her the more I drifted from the standards of the village. I still enjoy helping my family out around the farm but…it’s just not the same as it used to be. It was all because I met Chez. She made me see what I really wanted…’

Hey Eric, a young blond greeted the boy as he walked by.

Eric waved absently. Hey Cleo. He continued on his way without another word; not in the mood for idle chitchat. All of his thoughts centered around Cheza, as they usually did. ‘All the girls in this village are the same, except Chez. I wonder why she’s so different….’

Mom, I’m home, Cheza called as she closed the front door behind her. Cynthia, a now older woman with graying brown hair, stepped into the kitchen doorway; a curious look danced behind her eyes. How do you feel about not having to cook tonight?

Well, I’d feel extremely happy; but what’s the catch? Not to be offensive, but you’re cooking isn’t exactly five star quality or one star for that matter.

Gee thanks. The girl rolled her eyes. She was fully aware her cooking was lacking, to put it mildly. It wasn’t that she couldn’t cook. It was more that she didn’t have the patience to do anything elaborate.

Eric told me his family had invited us over for dinner to celebrate my birthday. Apparently Jack and Matt are going to Gaitvale tomorrow so they want to do it a day early, she continued.

Oh, that sounds wonderful. It’ll be nice to catch up with them. Everyone’s just been so busy lately; there’s no time to chat anymore. The woman dried her hands with an old towel embroidered with bright spring flowers. Not to mention the beasts of Kuimbi forest are getting restless.

It’s not the beasts that are cause for concern to Sacama. It’s the wolves that pillage our butcher shops and kill the livestock. Somberness snaked through the small hallway. I can’t help but wonder if there’s something happening deep inside Kuimbi forest that has upset them. In the texts I’ve read they spoke of a wolf attack only once every few weeks. But now they happen multiple times in a single week.

Yes. And surprisingly no one has yet been hurt by them.

Hmm…. I’m going to head up to my room for a while. Whenever you wish to go, just call me down.

Cynthia nodded and returned to washing the remaining dishes that littered the countertop.

Cheza ascended the staircase to her small room where the walls were lined with old books of all shapes and sizes from every genre. On her bed, atop the night sky patterned bed spread, lay the documented history of Sacama village and its surroundings. Its pages were yellowed, the binding worn; it was obviously Cheza’s favorite nighttime read. She scooped up the book and plopped down before flipping open the front cover.

Let’s see…. The entries stop about four years ago. I wonder when Mrs. Lorett will publish the next batch. She said she was reducing the time frames to twenty year increments but people don’t write in journals as much as they used to. She lay back on her bed, book in hand, and began reading.

The book began about what would be around twenty years after Sacama’s generally accepted conception. Each passage told her a different story of the young life of Sacama village. Most spoke of local gossip, scandals, and upcoming events. But the one that Cheza enjoyed most was an entry written nearly a hundred years ago by an old woman who once lived on the outskirts of the village, nearest Kunbi canyon. The old barn she’d been near was actually the only remaining building from the old woman’s property. No one dared live that near the canyon any longer.

The leaves have been stained with the colors of this vibrant season. Kuimbi forest has been oddly calm on this overcast morning. It seems strange when just last night our village suffered another attack from the wolves.

But last night’s raid was not like the others. While they stalked the streets of our small village something caused the beasts to still. Their ranks numbered near twenty, all spread throughout Sacama, yet, from what I’ve gathered, all of the creatures halted in a single moment and averted their chilling eyes to the long shadows cast by Kuimbi forest.

During the raid I sat safe in my home with my favorite book. I was always the first to witness the wolves come and the last to glimpse them go.

Normally it was the second sounding of the horn that told me the beasts had left our small village. But on that night I could not mistake the thundering sound of the many paws against the dirt. It drew my attention from the book I so loved to the window.

There, racing across the land was this night’s raid pack, led by a magnificent brown wolf. I watched as the beasts seemed to fly over Kunbi’s great mouth and vanished into the forest.

All through the night I couldn’t cease the questions that rampaged through my mind.

The wolf raids never ended empty handed and yet not one of the night’s raiders carried stolen produce or dead livestock. Had something occurred deep within Kuimbi forest? Would they return in greater numbers? Perhaps the great Kuimbi spirit had called them for some greater purpose?

With so many unanswerable questions one thing is absolute; life in Sacama is going to change. I can feel it on the winds.

Marylyn Higgins

I wonder if something happened to the forest spirit, Cheza mumbled to herself. She loved pondering over the many questions of that night long since passed. She especially enjoyed hearing the theories of her fellow villagers.

Old man Hatchen, who had once read the historical text, had an especially bizarre theory. He suspected that the Great Spirit, Kuimbi, had actually died and now, without the spirit to guide them, the animals of Kuimbi forest were without direction. They were unable to cope naturally without their leader. That is why, he claimed, the wolves now raid Sacama so frequently; they know not how to hunt truly wild game so they raid the livestock and supplies.

Cheza pushed herself to sit against her headrest and glanced out her window. From it she could see the sun casting its final rays along the front line of the forest. Dark would soon be upon them; a dangerous time indeed.

…But if the great forest spirit is dead the forest would have died with him long ago. Yet it continues to thrive….

Cheza! Cynthia called up the stairs.

Yeah?

We should get going before night falls.

’Kay. The girl laid the book carefully down beside her.

She stretched her stiff muscles as she stood and left the room. Each step down the stairs groaned under the stress; but its complaints were muffled by the soft tan carpet that cloaked them.

Don’t forget your coat. It’s starting to get cold out.

Yes mom.

Cheza pulled her black windbreaker off the coat hook beside the door, thrust her arms into the sleeves and trotted after her mother. Already, the air outside carried the chilling bite of nightfall. Before long the light of the sun would fail them and only the soft glow of the street lamps would lead them to their destination.

Night was practically upon them as they wove their way through the small houses, cabins, and barns of the village. The Miller’s house sat on the far side of the village; the farthest house from the Kellis’. It normally took almost an hour to cross the entirety of Sacama village but when night fell it was wise to hasten any travel yet stick to the main paths.

So, how did work go today? Cynthia asked when they passed Jacklyn’s food stand, trying to make conversation. Her daughter shrugged her shoulders lazily.

Same as always I suppose. Old man Hatchen joined us during lunch. She dragged her feet over the uneven gravel. Apparently he’s having trouble with that new colt of his. It won’t sit still when he tries to halter it and he always has to chase it into the barn at night.

He should talk to Walter’s daughter. She’s pretty good with horses. My guess is she’ll probably be our next trainer.

Sounds fitting for her. She loves playing with the new horses whenever she can. And when she comes to the stand she always has one of them in tow. Jacklyn’s just waiting for the day when a horse snatches some of her produce.

That reminds me, have you given any thought to your future? I’m sure you don’t want to work at that fruit stand your whole life.

No I don’t. But I just haven’t really given it much thought.

Well you’d better put more time into figuring it out. I won’t be here to take care of you forever. Cynthia tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. You’re sixteen now Cheza. Pretty soon you’ll be out on your own, living your own life, raising your own family.

Sounds like loads of fun. Cheza rolled her eyes. She was fine with growing up but, as condescending as it sounded, the expectations of the village were so simple-minded. Everyone expected the children to take after their parents or one of the shop keeps. No one wanted anything new for themselves or their lives; well…except for a select few that they’d never see again.

As the two rounded a corner the loud blaring of sirens startled them. Before they realized it, doors were slamming, lights were flipping off, and only the echo of the raid alarm could be heard before dead silence consumed them.

A cold air of fear froze Cynthia where she stood.

They’d never been caught outside during a raid before. What would happen if they ran into the wolves? How could they escape?

Mom, whispered the teen to her mother. Move quietly and carefully over there. She pointed a slender finger to an ivy-covered lattice hanging from a second story balcony across the way. The glowing white wood shown through small cracks in the thick vines.

Cynthia tried to move but her body was as still as a statue. No matter what command her mind gave, nothing responded.

Cheza commanded her once again, her tone even more pressing, Hurry.

I-I can’t move….

You have to unless you want to be found by the wolves. Please you have to trust me.

Okay…. The woman finally compelled her rooted legs to move forward, her daughter trailed behind her, keeping an eye out for any signs of approaching wolves. Once the shadows of the buildings safely hid them from on looking eyes, Cheza ordered her mother to climb. What about you?

Don’t worry. I’ll be right behind you, I promise. Now go.

A single gulp from the woman broke the silence before the soft crackling of the ivy leaves filled their ears. The delicate woodwork creaked in rhythm with the crackling leaves as it was rocked back and forth.

Keep climbing. Just think about climbing; hand over hand, and nothing else.

Once Cynthia was high enough to avoid any snapping jaws of the wolves, even if one jumped, Cheza began to carefully move closer to the lattice. As her hand brushed against the white wood of the trellis, several growls halted her. Every hair stood on end.

She turned her frightened eyes to a pack of six wolves that stared at her curiously. They had her completely surrounded with no possible escape.

Cheza! shrieked Cynthia.

Shh…. Cheza stood perfectly still. She was well aware that wolves only attacked if they felt threatened. The best thing she could do now was appear as a harmless human while showing no fear at the same time. If the wolves were desperate for food and they sensed even an ounce of fear they may very well attempt to kill her. One wrong move could easily spell death, instant or otherwise.

The wolves growling slowly began to fade as they stared at her with their piercing eyes. They seemed to stare deep into her soul. Each pair of glowing orbs told of a different story of hardship: hunting, battles within their ranks, attacks from other animals of far greater size. These wolves were weathered fighters who were willing to do whatever it took for the good of the pack.

The tension was almost suffocating; time slowed to a painful crawl with no end in sight. Cheza could practically hear the sweat trickle down the smooth, pale flesh of her face. Breath after breath of the cold night air stabbed at her chest.

With every flick of a wolf’s bushy tail, Cynthia’s fear multiplied. This showdown could end her daughter’s life brutally and there was nothing she could do to help her. She managed to peel her eyes from the sight and desperately began scavenging for anything that could be used as a weapon; anything she could use to chase the wolves away.

Cheza could feel her mind losing focus as her throat continued to constrict her air flow. Her vision blurred in and out of focus from crystal clear to unrecognizable splotches of color and everything in between.

If this standoff lasted any longer she was afraid she was going to suffocate before the wolves could tear her apart with their razor sharp teeth.

Through the heavy tension, a large grey wolf emerged from the shadows at the end of the street. The minute his shadow was cast between the pack and the girl the wolves turned their gazes to him. Cheza remained frozen as she watched what seemed like a silent conversation between them. To her surprise and great relief, the wolves followed the grey wolf to finish their raid. She let out a shaky sigh, falling to her knees. Her limp muscles trembled uncontrollably; her eyes stared into the distance. She was alive. By some small miracle she was alive.

Cheza. Cheza, get up here, Cynthia begged when she saw the pack had gone.

‘What-what was that?’ The girl wiped the sweat from her forehead. When she finally gained control of her body she pushed herself to her feet, using the lattice as a support. She wiped the sweat from her brow with her sleeve. Her breath came in calmer gasps though they continued to burn her lungs.

The sirens blared again signaling the all clear.

Cynthia ambled down the lattice as fast as she could and hugged her daughter tightly to her. She petted her hair to soothe her yet the girl remained unresponsive. Oh my poor baby. Are you okay?

…Mom?

The woman stepped back and looked into her daughter’s ghostly white face. What is it? What’s wrong?

Silence bound Cheza’s words where they sat on her tongue. She averted her gaze and shook her head. …Never mind, it’s not important. We should get going. The Miller’s are probably worried sick about us.

Alright.

The two began their trek again, this time at a hastier pace.

It wasn’t common that two attacks occurred in a single night but it wasn’t unheard of either. The wisest course of action to take following a wolf raid was to get inside as fast as possible and stay there.

‘I can’t ask her about what happened,’ Cheza thought, biting her lip. ‘To mom the wolves are just beasts to be wary of. But I know there was something strange about them.’

Finally the crunching of gravel gave way to the heavy sound of shoe soles against frequently trampled dirt. Before them stood a cozy two story farm house with an open porch that wrapped around one side. The pale blue siding gave off a soft glow in the moonlight and dull yard light. Just beyond the house, across the yard, one could make out the silhouettes of cattle and horses as the few who remained awake wandered around in search of food.

Cheza watched them lazily saunter around as they climbed the creaking porch stairs. Cynthia rapped her knuckles against the hard oak door. From inside the warm, glowing house, they could hear chairs scraping across the hard wood floor and hurried footsteps. Within seconds a woman in a long blue dress threw open the door. Her long blonde hair looked disheveled from her race to the door.

Good evening Odette, Mrs. Kellis greeted with a smile.

Cynthia! The women hugged each other tightly. And Cheza. Come in, come in. Odette waved them into the safety of the house, eyeing the dimly lit yard cautiously as she closed the heavy oak door painted in shades of green and blue. She led them into the living room where the rest of the family stood waiting. We were so worried about you two after the raid siren sounded. We weren’t sure whether you were still home or on your way here.

We had half a mind to go out and get you, Matt added from his corner where he leaned against a bookshelf. But mom was terrified of that idea.

Of course I was! Two people have a better chance of escape than five!

Now, now you two, Jack sighed, brushing his fingers through his dark brown hair streaked with grey.

After his years of farm work he’d become rather large; Matt was following his example well and even Eric was more built than normal boys. This is no way to act around our guests. Come, let’s forget this raid business and enjoy the evening.

Odette scowled at her husband but the group adjourned to the dining room without further argument, where she and Cynthia laid out a perfect golden-brown turkey, green bean casserole, dinner rolls, and peach fruit fluff. Everyone dug into the many platters while they gossiped of current business, local gossip, and other news.

I hear Mary’s son plans to be a blacksmith, Jack garbled through a mouth full of food. His wife scolded his disgusting behavior so he swallowed his food before going on, Old man Hatchen’s going to offer him an apprenticeship when he turns fourteen. He took another bite from his plate. It’s a shame they changed the apprenticeship age from ten to fourteen. In my opinion it was better when they started younger. At least then they learned proper work ethic while they’re still young.

They probably did it so that the children can concentrate more on their school work, Odette answered. At fourteen they only have to worry about one year of schooling instead of when they started at ten and had to deal with five.

Well, it’s still wonderful, Cynthia cheered. It’s good to know Ted will be passing his knowledge on to such a smart boy. Last thing we need is to have an unreliable blacksmith repairing our carts, farm equipment, and horseshoes.

Cheza let out a heavy sigh. Boredom consumed her every thought as she nibbled at a spoonful of fluff.

Local gab was always the same. It was all about what the older children were doing with their lives, what could be expected of this season’s crop, and how many cattle were going to slaughter this year. The most exciting thing, aside from the raids, that ever happened in Sacama was when a traveler got lost. But they hadn’t gotten one of those in months.

During the festivities Cheza slipped outside into the chilly night and sat on the porch.

Spending time with the Miller’s was always enjoyable. No matter how depressed any of