Dragonhammer - Conner McCall Page 0,4

amazing from the top of the climb. There are four falls, but two of them are so close together that I can’t tell if they’re together or apart. Each pours into a small, wildly roiling pool, only to have that pool empty over the next waterfall. This continues until, of course, the water reaches the last pool and continues off beside the town, winding into the Redwood Forest a league or two away. Though it seems long, my brother Nathaniel and I can make the trip to the forest in about half a day.

An enormous pile of green moss across the river catches my attention, and I notice it hangs over the falls. Similar piles layer themselves all over the rocks in or around the water, drooping lazily over almost every drop.

The grass is green. Not just any normal green; it’s a dark, deep green. The sun’s last rays are shining just over the tops of the craggy peaks of the Wolfpack Mountains, turning the immediate sky orange. The orange slowly fades to cavernous indigo full of millions of tiny, sharp points of light.

I remember that Mother is waiting for me and hurry along my way, thinking about all sorts of appetizing dinners that could be on the table tonight. Since we’re going to Terrace tomorrow, my mother would want to fill us with something quite substantial.

As I leave the town, the road becomes dirt instead of stone. The river, now to my left, becomes increasingly violent, but more beautiful.

The dirt path turns right, away from the river and further up the hill for another hundred yards to my home. It’s right at the base of one of the mountains, so our backyard is bound by a rock cliff. We have an excellent view of the town and the stone bridge at the base of the hill. Originally we lived in the upper floor of the forge, but Mother couldn’t stand the atmosphere and our family grew too large, so we moved to this house on the hill. My grandfather lived here with our family for a few years, but then he passed away and we inherited the house.

The two-story house was built by my father’s father many years ago. It’s made mostly of rock bricks quarried from the mountains, so it will still be here for a long while. It’s not exactly a huge house, but it fits my parents and all of their four children still at home. A friendly light, orange and yellow, shines from almost every window. The path goes all the way up to our little wooden porch, and then branches off to some other farm houses further down.

Each of the three wooden stairs creaks, but supports my weight easily. The porch only clunks slightly with every footstep. The door hinges creak as it swings open, and a beautiful smell shoots up my nose.

I close the door and kick off my boots, enjoying the smell of the stew before sitting down at our dining table.

Father sits at the head, with Mother on his right.

Signs of age are hardly coming to her. Her hair is still nicely dark brown, face is still smooth. She has a medium build but is stronger than she looks, which is one of the reasons I believe my father married her. It’s in her eyes that I can see her age, but it’s in a nonphysical way. In her eyes I can see her years of accumulated wisdom.

They’re talking right now and seem barely to have noticed that I’ve come in. All three of my younger brothers are in a human knot on the floor, knocking each other about and yelling. Mother smiles at me and motions for me to take a bowl, and I do so without hesitation, sitting on her right.

“We started without you, Kadmus,” smiles my mother. “Sorry. I would have waited, but…” She gestures to the pile on the floor.

I take the ladle and pour myself a generous amount. I notice that Mother has gotten hold of some green pepper; she probably traded some of the carrots from our family garden.

My mouth is full of potatoes and lamb before I make myself chew. An odd texture makes me wonder for a moment, but then I realize that Mother has also added the delicacy of mushrooms to the stew.

It’s not until then that I realize that the stew’s still steaming. I wash my burning tongue by drinking some fresh milk, milked this morning from our own cow, and

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