in our little shed. It’s usually what Nathaniel’s supposed to do, but since it’s his birthday I decided to let him have the day off.
We have breakfast as a family and decide to do Nathaniel’s celebration before Father and I have to go work in the forge. Nathaniel appreciates the blanket, saying “Thanks! My old one’s been through way too much. If it had any more holes, it would only be a wad of stitching!”
Nathaniel just about falls over when he sees the knife I have made for him. “You made this?”
“Why does that surprise you?”
“I don’t think you’ve done any work before that’s this good!”
“Thanks,” I say lamely.
Just a few minutes later, Father and I head for the forge.
We’re quiet. Leon’s knives are almost done, and the less talking we do, the more work we do. The sounds made in the forge are some of the best in my opinion.
“When are you leaving tomorrow?” asks Father.
It takes me a few seconds to realize that I’m going hunting with Nathaniel tomorrow. “Probably as soon as we get up. That way, we can get to the Redwood Forest by noon.”
“That quickly?”
“We’ve done it before.”
“That’s a fast trip. Good luck hunting; I hear good hunting is hard to come across. Tygnar must be hunting the animals down.”
“Tygnar doesn’t reach to the Redwood Forest.”
“True…” A while later he says, “I appreciate you going with Nathaniel. He’s always loved hunting, but it’s not what I do. I can strike with a hammer but can’t hit the side of our house with a bow and arrow.” He smiles at me, his facial hair hiding it slightly from view. “But you are multitalented, Kadmus. You can work fine material in the forge. You can shoot with a bow. You’re a great knife thrower. You are compassionate and humble.” He nods at me. “I am blessed to have such a son.”
I have no idea what to say, but he doesn’t expect me to say anything. He just goes back to his project. “Thank you,” I say quietly.
The next morning Nathaniel and I leave early. We’ve got enough food with us to last us a couple of days at least, but if we’re successful we can stay out for even longer. Nicholas and Ethan are supposed to cover our chores, but no guarantees.
Nathaniel is excited to use the new knife I have given him. He talks ecstatically about how he is going to gut various animals with it, but I only listen half-heartedly. Despite how much I care for my brother, I’m not one for hunting and ripping the guts out of animals.
The road stops long before it reaches the forest, but the river doesn’t. The Fravora guides us at a steady downward grade until we reach the edge of the forest, where it cuts a path through the trees into the heart of the woodland. We stop in this familiar spot to eat lunch, and I end up studying the area. Grasses are starting to gain color as the day and the season wax on, and they contrast sharply with the rocks that line the river sporadically. Some trees stand apart from the main body of forest in a feeble attempt to gradually introduce the forest to the landscape.
I’m not much of a hunter, so once we enter the forest, I follow Nathaniel and try not to make any noise. He leads me for a little while without any luck, which isn’t really surprising because most of the good animals are towards the middle of the forest. I snap a branch accidentally and he gives me a little glare. I mouth, “Sorry,” to him, and we move on.
We stay relatively close to the Fravora, but always keep in mind which direction we come from. If we ever get lost, which has happened before, then all we need to do is find the river. It’s our compass in this forest.
Nathaniel, his bow strung, moves quieter and with more graceful, precise movements. This suggests that he has seen something, so I copy him.
Suddenly, in one motion, he draws an arrow, nocks it, and shoots it through the eye of an animal twenty yards away.
The rabbit doesn’t so much as squeak. It’s just a little one, but I’m a fan of rabbit stew and the fur usually sells alright.
Nathaniel strings it to his backpack by the foot, and leads us deeper into the wood.
The trees are getting taller, and soon they loom so high over me that I think they