Continued from The Man of Antivia.
Yorund awoke the next morning to the sound of rooster crows. Daybreak had only just come as the red-orange sun began to peek over the horizon.
‘Mmmmm,’ he groaned, more out of frustration than anything else.
Not this early, he thought to himself. He had a rough night’s rest, for it had taken a few hours to fall asleep due to the frightening encounter with the man of Antivia the evening before.
The roosters continued their morning ritual of crowing, and thus, Yorund knew there was no since trying to evade the obvious. Rolling out of bed rather sleepily, he stood reaching out his arms in a full stretch as he extended onto the tips of his toes. He then gave a wide yawn followed by a smacking of the lips in an attempt to moisten his mouth. The young boy was definitely disheveled in appearance, but at this time of the morning he could not have cared less.
Yorund carefully descended the wooden stairs outside his bedroom. As he reached the bottom step, his mother cheerfully greeted him.
‘Morning, Yorund. How did you sleep?’
‘Ummm, pretty well,’ he replied with a grogginess to his voice.
It was not the truth. Yorund knew it took him forever to fall asleep, and the sleep he did get was filled with nightmares about that man in the forest of Antivia. But he knew he could not share the events from the previous evening with his mother.
‘I’ve put out some oats, toast and milk for breakfast. Just make sure you put things away when you finish,’ Yorund’s mother exclaimed.
Just as she ended her sentence, the door swiftly opened, banging against the wall with force.
‘Yorund, come on out! I need your help moving this pile of wood,’ came the enthusiastic words from the man who had just walked through the front door!
Yorund loved his father. He was loving, caring, strong, brave, and he had only ever given of everything he had to his beloved family. Somewhat of a father par excellence. But Yorund was too tired to return a reply with enthusiasm. His response came without much grace.
‘Dad, I only just sat down. Give me a minute.’
‘Oh, come on. Grab some toast and bring it with you. It’ll only take a few minutes.’
But Yorund knew his dad’s outdoor projects always turned into a little more than just a few minutes. There was always plenty to do. And Yorund felt this might be one of those times in which one chore turned into three or four chores.
Yorund arose slowly, eyebrows bent in an annoyed grimace. He grabbed two pieces of toast and headed out the door.
‘Yorund,’ came the words from his mother. ‘Change the attitude.’
Change the attitude, he thought to himself. Why? It’s only just gone daybreak and I’m being put to work. Yet he did not voice his opinion, for he knew it would probably lead to an argument. And, besides, he was too tired to speak or argue. So he bit his tongue.
Walking out the door, he began cramming the dry toast into his mouth. Crumbs fell all over his shirt as well as to the ground. The chickens hurried to his feet to get some of their own early morning breakfast.
As soon as Yorund turned the northeast corner of the house, heading towards his father, he stopped dead in his tracks. He never really noticed it much before, perhaps because he never remembered being awake so early, but the sunrise caught his eye. The soft shades of yellow, orange, pink, and red danced across the sky as feather-like clouds also dotted the heavens. His gaze was fixed unlike before.
‘Yorund, what are you doing, son?’
He shook his head, bringing himself back to reality.
‘Uhhhh, sorry. Guess I’m still a little sleepy.’
‘Well, come over here and give me a hand. It really should take just a few minutes to move this pile of wood over to the shed.’
As Yorund approached the freshly chopped wood, his father gave him some gloves, presumably to protect his hands from possible splinters.
They both grabbed a few pieces of wood and walked through the back garden to the small wooden shed standing on the far edge of their property. The door swung open with ease from a gentle nudge from his father’s foot. They then laid the first pieces in a row against the wall, all in an attempt to prepare for the rest of the wood to be neatly stacked.
Just as they turned to make their way back to the woodpile, they saw something that shocked them both, but even more Yorund. His heart began pumping with intensity, for it brought up images from the eve before. It was the man of Antivia, not in the forest, but right there in their own back garden.
Click here to continue – The Man of Antivia (Part 3)
