Iris.
The night sky was cool, and the breeze was cold. I was used to nights like this when we were growing up, we would sit outside, and our father would make a huge fireplace out. Bjorn and Finn would bring out a deer they hunted during the day, skin it, and then roast it for all of us to enjoy.
I was never allowed to have my cup of ale, but my father would let me take a sip from his cup.
"Why are you outside?" I asked.
"Tonight reminds me of those nights we used to sit outside and drink with father. I guess you could say that I am feeling nostalgic." He replied.
I laughed. "I was just thinking the same thing."
"You sound surprised."
I did not realize it early on, but there was something different about him. He was not holding a cup or a flask. Neither did he have the usual stench of Alcohol that always accompanied him. It was the first time I talked to Bjorn sober since our father died.
