AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Age sixteen.
Sage
Ezra sat on a wood stump across from me, sorting through the bucket of chokecherries we had picked early that morning. She was looking for any leaves, stems, or bugs that might have gotten added into the mix, separating them from the perfectly ripe fruit.
While she did that, I sat cross-legged on the grass, a piece of cedar in one hand and a knife with a fixed, thin blade in the other. The handle was curved to fit comfortably in one’s hand to prevent fatigue—perfect for whittling. Kaleb had traded five rabbit furs for the knife and gifted it to me after he caught me looking at it during one of our trips to the market. It was a steal of a deal considering the fine craftsmanship, but when he purchased it, guilt gnawed at my stomach. Kaleb couldhave used the rabbit furs to buy a month’s worth of food, or something for himself—something he so rarely did. When I asked him why he didn’t do just that, he bumped my shoulder playfully and said I needed to do something other than just train all the time. And so, I picked up whittling—something Ezra also did from time to time.
Carefully, I made long, sweeping cuts with the grain, working on the general shape. Apart from the delicious smell of cedar wood, the color of it was a deep red, perfect for the animal I was trying to carve—a fox. It was to be a birthday gift for my friend, Adelina.
Adelina and I first met seven summers ago when her father became deathly ill. Ezra and I had been at the market, selling tonics and salves, when Adelina’s weary-eyed mother, Mrs. Westford, came up to our table and begged Ezra to come take a look at her ailing husband. Ezra agreed. After the market closed for the day, we went over to the Westfords’ residence. While Ezra examined Mr. Westford, Adelina and I sat outside on the stairs. Adelina had been very worried about her father, so to help her get her mind off things, I struck up a conversation with her and asked, “What’s your favorite animal?” With a big, toothy smile, she said it was a fox.
I glanced down at the wood carving and frowned. Rather than a sleek fox, it looked more like two blobs with lopsided ears. I grumbled and tossed it to the ground. Despite how hard I tried, the wood never spoke to me. Not like it did with Ezra.
Ezra quirked a graying brow. “What is wrong, child?”
“It doesn’t even look remotely like a fox. It looks more like Old Man Winter’s cat,” I stated, annoyance clipping the words short.
“The one with the missing ear,” Ezra agreed with a chuckle. She leaned forward, picked up the discarded wood, and then held her empty, purple-stained hand to me, gesturing for me togive her my knife. I did. She leaned back and began to whittle, skimming off thin pieces of curling wood. “There is a thin line between success and failure. Do you know what determines either outcome?” she asked.
I pondered her question, looking at the wood and then her—I had a feeling I knew the answer behind this lesson, but with Ezra, one could never be completely sure. “Not giving up on something?” I said, more questioning than not.
She worked on one ear, shaping it into a point, before she moved on to the other. “You are correct, child. It takes a great deal of self-discipline to see something all the way through, from beginning to end. We are not born with self-discipline. It’s something we must choose for ourselves, something we must continuously work on.”
I thought about her words while watching as she worked.
After she was finished with the ears and they were nearly perfect twins, she handed me the knife and the carving. “Go on, give it another go,” she said.
I nodded, took the knife and the carving, and tried again.
Lungs heaving from my morning training session, I flopped down in the field of switchgrass and broken, decaying trees and looked up at the crisp, blue sky. Not a cloud in sight. I ran my fingers up a blade of vibrant green grass, stopping just below the delicate, feathery flowers which were beginning to go toseed. The color of their soft panicles hinted of autumn—a rich burgundy.
“Sage?” shouted a familiar female voice in the distance.
“Over here,” I warmly called back.
A few moments later, I saw the top of a head covered in dark-brown hair appear just over the tops of the swaying grass. Next, a big, warm smile, mirroring my own.
“There you are,” Adelina said as she stepped through the grass. A small braid crowned her head, a lilac-colored ribbon threaded throughout. She flipped her skirt, more patches than original fabric, to the side and sat down. “You aren’t in your usual training spot,” she observed, glancing around.
“I decided to give this spot a try today.” I rolled onto my side and propped my head up with my hand, my elbow digging into the ground beneath me. “There’s a lot of fallen trees here. They make for good obstacles and help with my footwork.”
“That makes sense,” she replied, her earthy brown eyes shifting to mine. “Must have been some wind to take them all out like that.”
I nodded in agreement. “It could have been a plough wind, or a tornado that briefly touched down, or—” I smirked. “It could have been someone with the Curse of Air.”
“That’s a lot of fallen trees for a Cursed to take out on their own. If magic was involved, it would have to be someone much more powerful.” She paused, pondering for a moment. “If anything,” she cracked a smile, “I’d say one of the gods did it.”
I chuckled at that. We both did.
I decided to play along. “Which god do you think it was?” I asked, feeling the gentle breeze chase the scorching caress of the sun from my skin.
“Well, there is one god well known for his ability to control the wind—more so than any other god.” She dropped her voice to a whisper, serious eyes meeting mine. “The God of Death.”
My stomach knotted, but I heeded it little mind. I whispered back, “Okay, let’s say it was him. Why would he demolish a bunch of trees?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “I mean, he’s the God of Death. Does he need a reason?”
“I feel like there’s always a reason why gods do what they do,” I said.
