The sun just started peeking through the trees when I woke in a cold sweat. Once again I'm plagued by dreams of a jail cell and bloodied steel.

  “Fern,” I rolled up my blankets and tied them to Peanut’s back.

  “Yes, lad?”

  “I had that dream again.” I looked over to Fern. He sawed a loaf of bread into smaller pieces with a dull knife.

  “I know,” Fern said while tossing me a slice of bread. I sighed feeling how dried out and crumbly it was between my fingers. It was either this bread or starving, at least until Umbtelo. “I'm glad you didn’t wake up screaming again. But lad, we need to figure out something to keep you quiet at night.”

  I didn't respond as I turned to pack up the rest of our things. What did other men do when their dreams are plagued by nightmares? Drink? Herbs? I don't think Fern would approve of either. Then again, desperate times, right?

  “Doesn't mother have the same issue? With the nightmares I mean.” I grabbed Peanut’s lead and we started walking down the game path toward Umbtelo.

  “No lad,” Fern dragged his feet behind me through the dried leaves. The forest south of Zelheim had more trees that shook off their leaves in the fall. Of course, my mother's magic didn't need to assert itself in her dreams. She used it enough with her work.

  We walked onward. I've never had a moment before now to really listen to the sounds of the waking forest. Usually I helped my mother gather her materials for the market while she just stared off into space. On a good day, we talked and talked. Walking in silence was a new experience for me.

  Birds filled the air with their high, short tones. Others added to the symphony with longer, lower chirps.

  “What you laughing at, boy?”

  I was glad that Fern walked behind me. Blood rushed to my cheeks, chasing away the autumn morning chill. I turned to look over my shoulder at Fern with a large grin across my face.

  “Fern, have you ever just listened to the birds?” I looked around at the treetops behind him. A flash of brown rustled through the branches of the trees. The same streak of brown flew across the gap to a neighboring tree.

  “Fern! Fern! I saw a squirrel!” Back in Zelheim you were lucky to see a squirrel at all. But here in the forests by Umbtelo, they ruled the branches. I stopped to watch the squirrels chasing each other in the trees. Fern swiped Peanut’s reins and inched past me.

  “Oh lad,” Fern chuckled as he walked on. “You're gaping at the trees like a little child gapes at toys.”

  “Fern,” I whined, craning my neck to look at the leaves. “The leaves, how do they turn such vibrant colors? It's like a sea of oranges and yellows.”

  “You are your mother’s child,” Fern laughed, shaking his head. “And to think you grew up in a forest.”

  “A forest full of pine trees!” I grabbed Fern’s shoulders from behind and jumped, trying to wrap my legs around his torso. But he didn’t catch me like my mother used to. I bounced up and down behind him.

  “Fern,” I said. “I’m your child too, right?”

  Fern stopped and suddenly turned around and I found myself in one of his powerful headlocks. He continued down the path half dragging me with him.

  “You sure about that boy?!” He teased while gently rubbing his fist in my hair against my scalp. “No child of mine would let himself get his butt kicked. Come on lad, fight me!”

  I managed to worm my way out of Fern’s headlock and I pushed him as hard as I could. Fern hardly budged from the path.

  Little master, don’t. Big master win.

  Peanut tried to warn me, but like many young men before me, I didn’t listen. I kept playfully pushing against Fern until he randomly stepped aside. Without his weight to stop my momentum, I fell into a small bush.

  Pain flared across my forearm as my hand abruptly hit the dirt by the base of the bush. A warmth trickled its way down my arm and over my wrist followed by a burning and throbbing. My reward for losing the battle.

  “You alright, lad? That was quite a fall,” Fern asked offering me a hand. I grabbed it and quickly hid my injured arm under the fold of my mantle, careful not to let any blood drip on my boot.

  “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks,” I said dusting myself off awkwardly with one hand. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to push you over, Fern.”

  Fern laid his hand on my shoulder. “Probably not, my boy. But, I get a kick out of watching you try. That’s a downside of that royal blood in you,” Fern chuckled as he rubbed my shoulder. “After dinner, we’ll shoot the bows. They'll probably be more your thing anyway.”

  I half laughed and looked down at my feet. It was one thing hearing it from my mother, but hearing Fern say it so casually, it hit differently. It wasn't anger, but a deep sense of shame that gripped my heart.

  “Yeah, I suppose,” I said before retreating deep into my own thoughts.

  ──── ? ────

  The next day we stood on a hill overlooking a small village hugging the coastline. It looked very similar to Zelheim. Stone buildings with reed-thatched roofs huddled close together, oddly, not in disrepair. But Umbtelo, unlike Zelheim, had a larger harbor and the fortune of a city wall to protect it from the outside world.

  “We made good time, lad,” Fern said crossing his arms. “Come, let’s go set up camp somewhere in the forest. I’m sure you’re hungry.” He looked at my stomach protesting with deep, long growls.

  “I’m always hungry, Fern,” I laughed.

  Fern shook his head. “Stop growing so damn fast and you won’t have that problem.”

  We took our time setting up our camp in a forest clearing with a small brook. I stoked a hearty fire while Fern caught some fish in the brook. He handed me a stick, and in no time, the smells of freshly cooked fish filled the air. The meat was barely cooked through before I wolfed it down.

  I sat against a log I dragged next to the fire. Unfortunately, the physical exertion reopened the wound on my arm. The skin was warm to the touch and it throbbed with every heartbeat. I lifted my hand, the tips of my fingers were lightly stained with fresh blood.

  A warm nose bumped my arm under the mantle.

  Little master. Arm smell off.

  Peanut continued bumping me, sending shocks of pain up my arm. I winced each time. Fern noticed the strange behavior of the mare and pushed her away. I looked up at him brooding over me.

  “I don’t need you to tell me what she is saying. Give me your arm, boy,” Fern demanded.

  “No!” I turned and scrambled to my feet trying to escape, but I tripped over them and fell back into the soft soil of the forest floor. I then tried rolling away, but Fern’s iron grasp wrapped around my wrist. He effortlessly pulled my injured arm out from under the cloth of my mantle and gently twisted it around. His face contorted in disgust.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “Lad, why did you hide this? It would’ve been best to take care of it right away when you fell yesterday.” I stopped struggling and looked wide-eyed at Fern. He didn’t sound angry.

  Fern sighed, staring at the angry red skin against the lighter skin of my inner forearm. “We could've washed it out with water and it would’ve been fine. Now you need a healer.” Fern let me go and I scrambled to my feet. “Damn, I didn’t want to take you into Umbtelo.”

  “Fern, I’m sorry. I wanted to take care of it myself,” I stuttered. I looked at my feet and bit my thumbnail.

  “Lad,” he said calmly, “why would you hide this from me? Why didn’t you tell me you got hurt?”

  I looked away still sucking on my thumb. “I was scared, Fern. I didn’t want to tell you.”

  “Why?”

  “I didn't want to disappoint you,” I said. “I lost the fight.” I hoped Fern understood what I meant. I didn’t want to talk about it.

  Fern hugged me tightly. “Oh, lad, I was just teasing. You can't get rid of me that easily.” He led me back to the fire and pushed on my shoulder till I plopped myself down next to it. Peanut walked up behind me and laid her heavy head on top of mine.

  Little master go nowhere.

  I watched Fern walk over to the pile of bags next to the market tent. He rustled through them and pulled out a small bowl and a hunting knife with a thick handle. I turned my head under Peanut’s lump of a nose just enough to watch Fern pick chunks of charcoal out of the fire and smash them into a fine powder with the handle of the knife.

  “Fern? What are you doing?” I pushed Peanut’s nose off my head. She snorted and walked off toward a patch of grass near the brook. Fern continued his work, not acknowledging me.

  I fiercely objected when he sat behind me and roughly grabbed my hair.

  “Stop your complaining,” Fern said, working the dye into my hair. The wet sludge on my scalp itched. Fern smacked my hand everytime I reached up to scratch. “Knock it off. I can’t take you into Umbtelo looking like a damn royal.” Those words killed my will to fight back. I sat in front of Fern like a sack of potatoes.

  When he was done, I scrambled away from him and stood by Peanut.

  Hair smell gross.

  “Thanks, Peanut. I’m aware.”

  I looked in the brook and I saw a boy with the same dark-colored hair as Fern. That boy could've been his child. I resisted the urge to itch my scalp, clenching my hands into tight fists at my side. I heard Fern sweeping out the fire behind me.

  Little master look like big master. Peanut can be so slow sometimes.

  “I can hide your hair, ” Fern said proudly. “But those aqua eyes of yours, I can’t do anything about. Keep that in mind. Now, let's go.”

  I sighed and followed Fern down the road, staring at my feet as we made our way to the city.

  Being late in the afternoon, the city gate was still open. Two men in chainmail stood beside it with tall spears. I inched closer to Fern the nearer we got to them. He wrapped his broad arm around my shoulder. They glanced at the travelers coming and going, but they didn't bother anyone. I didn’t release my breath until we safely walked past them.

  We quickly found the market around a small square near the harbor. Wooden market stands in front of the shops were filled with various goods and the tools of various trades. I found it weird that merchants bothered to make the market into something that wasn't a makeshift tent town. I walked next to Fern while he perused the goods.

  “Fern, can I have a coin or two?” I pulled on his sleeve looking at his feet.

  “Sure?” He dropped two copper coins into my outstretched palm. “What you need it for?”

  I didn't answer, wrapping the coins tightly in a fist. Fern luckily knew when not to push me to talk. I appreciated that about him. He shook his head. “Fine, lad. Meet me by that bench near the tree when you're done.”

  Fern took off, and I perused the stalls until I found what I thought I was looking for. I heard Hera’s father talking about it one day. When I asked her about it, Hera spent the entire day complaining because her father didn’t wake up on time anymore. The merchant didn't want to sell it to me, but at the end of the day, coin is coin. He carefully packaged up the fragile flowers in a small cloth.

  “Boy,” he said, handing me the package, “you're too young for this shit.”

  I ran off shoving the package into the belt of my pants.

  On the bench, I watched the townsfolk casually stroll down the road. A group of city guards marched one of their rounds. I twirled a stick in my hand, waiting for them to walk by. There was no mention of a manhunt or the royals.

  I couldn’t help noticing the savory smells of grilled fish beginning to fill the air. My stomach growled in protest.

  “You hungry, boy?” I flinched, not hearing Fern come up behind me.

  “Yeah, I guess,” I answered not looking up from my feet. “And stop doing that!”

  “Boy, you are just that lost in your thoughts. I make enough noise shuffling up to you.” Fern laughed as he pushed a little box and a cloth sack into my empty hands. “Here. It isn’t much, but I spent the last of my own coin to get it for you. The rest of the coins we need to try to save for the boat. I have a tad more than we need, but not much.”

  I lifted the lid of the little box to reveal a small knife with a dark-colored handle like the one he used to shave his face.

  “A man needs his own knife,” he said laying his hands on my shoulders.

  “Thanks.” I looked up at him. My eyes watered.

  “You can try it out tonight while I make dinner. Now, let’s get that arm of yours checked out and get back.”

  ──── ? ────

  Fern asked around the market where we could find a healer to take a look at the still burning scratch on my arm. Everyone gave us directions to a little old lady that lived in a small house near the southern gate.

  The right house wasn’t hard to find. Next to her front door were two flower baskets filled with strange green herbs that I’ve never seen before. Even without the baskets by the door, we would have found it when we saw the wooden sign with the mortal and pestle.

  The lady that opened the door greeted us with a smile and insisted we come in. She pulled out two chairs and motioned for us to sit down.

  I looked around the small living room at all the pots and jars labeled with the various names of herbs and tinctures associated with her trade. It felt strange being able to read all the labels despite not having a clue as to what anything was. Most people in Zelheim didn't label anything. Valerian. I recognized that one. .

  When I was done looking at all the shelves around the room, I focused my gaze on her folded hands laid nicely by her chest on the table. Her fingers were stained green from years of working with the herbs. They also looked slightly dry with wrinkly flesh. I’ve only seen older ladies with such hands.

  “Now, how can I help you gentlemen?” She had a soft, warm voice.

  I kept quiet. Fern and I didn't discuss how we would handle this encounter with the healer.

  “My son here,” he put his hand on my shoulder. I couldn’t help turning to look at him. “He’s got a nasty scratch on his arm. I was hoping to get it looked at.”

  The healer held out her hand and motioned for me to give her my arm.

  “Of course, sir. Let’s see your arm, lad. He’s a shy one ain’t he?” She grabbed my arm gently. Her hands were cold, but they felt good on my warm skin.

  She gingerly turned my arm over to get a good look at the scratch. I looked too. I haven’t fully looked at it myself yet. It was still the angry red color. The skin around the scratch was swollen with dried blood still clinging to the edges. I bit my lip seeing the length of the scratch. It ran from my wrist to nearly my elbow.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” she gasped, her voice full of concern. “How did this happen, lad? That looks pretty painful.”

  I shrugged my shoulders, but before I could respond, Fern cut me off. “Farm accident.”

  “A farm accident?” The lady sounded very surprised by Fern’s answer. “I’ve never seen a farm accident cause a wound like this one, but then again, the poor lad don’t look like a farm boy. Just starting out?” Her attention made me feel uneasy. Then again, older ladies loved to chitchat. I tried to relax.

  “Good sir, would you mind grabbing that teapot and the cloth on the stove there?” She motioned to the side of the room. Fern struggled to stand up, grunting as he pushed himself to his feet.

  “Sweetheart, I’m going to have to clean the wound before I can look at it.” She gently dabbed the scratch with the warm water and a scratchy cloth. It stung and I tried pulling my arm back. The woman, despite her age, had an incredibly strong grip.

  “I know, dear, I know. If you would’ve did this right away then it wouldn’t hurt so bad. But, that’s just a man thing, I think. They never ask for help.” She laid my arm down. “Sweetheart, were there nails or other metals involved in your accident?” She dabbed the scratch lighter than before.

  “No, ma'am,” I answered softly, “I fell on wood. No metal.”

  “He does speak!” The elderly woman laughed softly and looked up from the scratch at me. I quickly turned away. “That’s good dear. Sometimes metal sickness sets in and then well... I can treat inflammation, but if you get metal fever then you’d be a goner.”

  When she finished cleaning my arm, she skillfully looked it over. Without a word she stood up and grabbed a small jar of white cream and a long thin cloth. She rubbed the cream into the scratch and carefully wrapped my arm snuggly with the cloth.

  “I did what I could for your son, good sir. Twice a day rub this cream into the wound and wrap it with the cloth,” She explained. “Not too tight and keep the dirt out. Unfortunately, it will probably leave a long scar when it’s healed.”

  Fern pulled out his little coin bag and counted out a third of the coins. “Thank you very much for caring for my son. Is this enough to cover your services?” He showed her the coins.

  The lady folded her hands together. I watched her nervously rub two fingers together. “Unfortunately not,” the lady sighed, “the herbs I use for that cream are out of season.”

  Fern handed over half of the coins and put his hands on my shoulders. “Only the best for my boy. You ready, lad?”

  I nodded and thanked the healer before getting up to leave. Behind me, the lady hummed loudly.

  “You look similar to a lad I took care of a long time ago when I lived in New Janderus. But his hair was a lot lighter, kind of like the color of that short beard you got, ” the lady said while she walked us to the door.

  Fern wished her a good day and we made our way back to camp. I stared at my feet. I didn't want Fern to see me cry.