Marlene wakes me the next morning. Her face is hard. Denet shies out from behind her, not meeting my eyes.

  “When you said you’d handle the rot,” Marlene says, “I didn’t expect you to drag my boy into it.” She slams the doorframe. “What could you be thinking?”

  “But mama—” Denet starts.

  “Quite, Denet.” Marlene points up at me. “I know you're not much more than a child, but when Mother Life blesses you with [Skills], you can’t galavant off, pretending to be invincible.” She brushes the top of Denet’s head. “And endangering a small child, skill-less as he is—”

  “It’s my fault,” says a voice. Taren shadows Marlene in dawn’s light. She jolts at his presence. “It was my idea to handle the rot that night. And I saw Denet, but assumed he would wander off back home.” He bows his head. “I should take better care, tending to the children. I’m so sorry.”

  Marlene is at a loss for words. She stutters to herself for half a minute before she stomps off to the house.

  Denet remains. He shuffles in place, his eyes glued to his feet.

  “I told you the boy wasn’t a secret keeper,” Taren says, “back in the forest, when you first healed him. Don’t you remember?”

  I frown. “Why did you lie to Marlene?”

  “You only have one adult in this village who cares for you at all, Sevorn. Let’s not tear it apart now.” Taren looks at Denet, who cowers. “You could’ve let us sleep in before blabbing.”

  ~~~

  Denet shies away from me for the rest of the week. Once he builds up the courage to approach me, he apologizes in the only way he knows how: claiming that I get the best starting spot in our next water race. For an entire month, even though he knows the frost will limit our outings soon.

  After another week, banners decorate the village square for the Festival of Winter Tidings.

  Taren allows me to join him hunting again now that he trusts me. I improve with my bow, but can do little more than distract anything we take down.

  The two of us track a boar for three days, then bring it down with a dozen arrows. I envy Raimi’s inventory bag when we have to trudge back to the village carrying the meat and pelt.

  Besides our haul, Orlen and Honep bring in two deer. Though our hunting provides more than expected so late in autumn, many villagers still seem downtrodden. No one talks about how lean the village granary stores are, but I can see the worry in everyone’s eyes.

  By evening, children run through the street, including Denet and Raimi. Though only two years separate me from Raimi, and four from Denet, I feel a lifetime apart. There’s innocence in their play. Denet is resilient, trapping memories of that terrible night somewhere deep inside, where it won’t torment him, as it does me.

  The boar Taren and I brought becomes the center of the feast that night.

  “We feast on the first day,” Raimi tells me as we decorate a long table provided by Elder Rorahn. “My mother says it symbolizes the bounty that Mother Life blesses us with.”

  Denet pops up as I set out cutlery. “And tomorrow the wagons come.” He isn’t helping with anything. Marlene asks that he only keep out of the way. “Maybe this year I can get a sword.”

  Raimi laughs. “Maybe Elder Rorahn will make a wooden one for you. He says you should practice safety first with any weapon.”

  An argument ensues, with both children looking to me to decide who is right. I leave them to their debate and look for Taren. I find him leaning against the corner of his house, watching the festival preparations. He looks as downcast as the adults.

  “One of the cows died last night,” Taren says when I stand in silence nearby. “Ate some grain that we missed cleaning. Rot infection went unnoticed too long.”

  I open my mouth, then close it.

  “You couldn’t have saved it, Sevorn. It surprised everyone. I’m not blaming you.” He stands straight and reaches for his bow. “I’m explaining.”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Explaining what?”

  “I’m heading out, before the feast begins. Out to hunt.” He glances at me.

  “I’ll get my bow.”

  “I thought you might.” He grabs my shoulder. “Not this time.”

  I stiffen.

  “Not because I don’t trust you, because I do.” He lets go and slides his bow into place, then snatches his quiver. “You need to stay for the festival. People need to see you, get to know you.”

  “And if you get injured?”

  “I’ll run back here and beg you to heal me,” he says with a smile. Then he shifts his pack and looks at the woods. “Just wanted to make sure you knew my plan. Stay here. Talk to someone. Enjoy the festival.” He pats my shoulder. “You know how to have fun, don’t you?”

  I nod, then return to the village square so I don’t have to watch him leave. He’s my only real friend in the world. He’d better not die on me.

  ~~~

  The feast lasts into the night. A bonfire roars in the middle of the square, near the great oak, warming the frosty air. Though the villagers were reluctant to enjoy themselves before, reservations are forgotten as night lingers on—children dance around the fire and adults bang drums to cheer them on.

  Raimi and Denet dance together, intermingled with the other children. Denet’s no fine dancer, challenging Raimi’s practiced footwork. Eventually she sends him off to join the other boys his age, where they dance without form.

  When she approaches me and asks me to join her, I freeze.

  Some older youth dance on the far side of the flames. I’m too young for their complex movements. And I feel too old to join the children near me.

  Raimi stands by, motioning to me, persistent.

  I scold Taren in my mind, telling him he’d better be pleased that I’m attempting to fit in with the festivities.

  I stand. Raimi grins, then grabs my arm and drags me close to the fire.

  I’m no better than Denet, but Raimi doesn’t seem to care. She teaches me the movements as we flow around the fire, following the other children. I improve enough that Raimi seems pleased. I’m exhausted when the dance ends, more mentally than anything.

  The night ends with a speech by Edrine. I prepare for his blame, but for once the old cleric focuses on the goodness of Mother Life.

  In the morning, two large wagons roll into the village, led by a large man with an ever-present grin. His energy makes me think Denet will be the same when he’s fully grown. The trader greets everyone and the children shout his name. Trader Poliven. He has brought another man to lead the second wagon.

  Poliven’s smile falters only once, when Elder Rorahn explains the lack of surplus grain to trade him. But he recovers quickly, promising opportunities to buy grain he bartered for in the last village.

  Families carry valuables and oddities alike to the trader. He analyzes each one for a moment before offering an exchange. There must be some [Skill] that he uses to assess the value of whatever is brought before him, because he gives each item, no matter how strange, an equal measure of inspection.

  Raimi joins her family in the bartering. She materializes the yew bow from her bag and holds it out to Poliven.

  “Good quality bow,” he says as he holds it. “Four bags of grain a reasonable price for you?”

  Raimi looks up at her father, Orlen, who nods. “Yes, Trader Poliven.” Then she pauses. “Are there any books—” she cuts off, then shakes her head. “Thank you for your trade.”

  Orlen handles the bags while Raimi wanders off.

  Once every family has finished bartering, I approach. There’s some surprise from the villagers when I produce the [Midnight Stone] I got from the Rot Heart.

  Trader Poliven reaches for it. “May I?”

  I drop it in his hand.

  He jolts, like it burns him. Then he blinks. “Where did you get this?”

  Curious villagers stand nearby. I’m grateful Denet has already left to pester Raimi.

  “No need to say.” Poliven chuckles. “You have quite the trader face, young man.” He continues to look over the stone, longer than his other inspections.

  He must sense the rot at its core. He will tell the village its source.

  “I want to offer you a fair trade,” Poliven says. He glances at his wagon. “I only have eight bags of grain left to offer you.”

  That perks my interest. The stone is valuable. “What else can you offer?” I ask.

  He grins. “We have pots and pans, tools, books…”

  “What about the yew bow?”

  Trader Poliven frowns for the first time. “Your stone’s good quality, but I’d only offer you six bags of grain and the bow for it.”

  Value is transient. Food is gold to the villagers today. “Eight bags of grain, and…a book.”

  Poliven grins. “I think I know just the volume to interest little Raimi.”

  Two minutes of him rummaging through the wagon produces a hog-hide book, thick as my head. I strain under the bulkiness of it.

  Trader Poliven then places a ring atop the volume. “I’ll add this as well.” He leans closer so only I can hear. “Find me more of these stones, and I’ll be more prepared for a good trade.”

  [Minor Ring of Mana]

  With the last of the bartering finished, Trader Poliven focuses on the festival at hand.

  Elder Rorahn and the others are shocked when I offer the eight bags of grain for the village granary.

  Tonight may not have a feast to attend the celebration, but the music is brighter, and the smiles are more genuine than before. I feel at home.