Night was coming fast, the footsteps of hurried people echoed loudly through the deserted place, far away, isolated from what they called civilization.
Three figures were running along the small, barely visible dirt path, the hoods on their bodies protecting them from the heavy rain. One of these figures grunted slightly as she felt a bag slip from her back, but quickly secured it.
The sound of the creaking door caught the attention of dark eyes, a small smile on their parched and wounded lips.
The three figures entered the small wooden house, removing the hoods from their heads, to reveal two women and a man of advanced age, all with gray hair and wrinkles on their faces. They removed their wet hoods and approached, briefly greeting the owner of those deep black eyes.
"Is everything all right?" Said man asked, turning slightly toward the three figures, without moving away from the brown-haired woman who was lying on the bed next to him in the center of the room. An expression of pain plagued the woman's face and she kept her left hand on her bulging belly.
"The circle of protection is complete." The old man said, glancing briefly toward the woman lying down, and then looked toward one of his companions on the left. "Would you please put the candles in place, Olwyn?"
The woman nodded briefly in his direction, before grabbing some red candles from her bag and walking toward a cabinet up ahead. After placing one of those candles on the cabinet, she turned to her right and placed another candle on the table to the right side of the bed, and finally placed the last candle on the floor between the cabinet and the table, in front of the bed, leaving the brown-haired woman right in the center.
The old man then faced the man with a neutral look, a slight glint of sympathy in his tired but experienced brown eyes.
"Well... I'm going to have to ask you to step aside, Conrad. She could give birth any moment now." He said, and the dark-eyed man nodded, watching briefly as the tall woman behind the old man walked toward his wife, saying words too low for him to hear. Comforting her, perhaps... unlikely, since she was not the type.
"Conrad... stay here..." His wife said, panting and grunting from discomfort and pain. It was happening.
Conrad wanted to move closer, to hold her hand. But he held back, glaring at the old man approaching the bed.
"He can't. I'm sorry, Petra. It'll be over soon." The man said, standing beside the woman and looking at his partner in silent question.
Conrad sighed and brought a hand to his face, running his fingers through his small black beard and then through his long, dark hair.
"The storm is approaching." Olwyn said as she approached him, catching the attention of Conrad, who looked at her in a mixture of curiosity and, even, a little surprise, since she wasn't much for conversation. Much less, her starting a conversation.
"A common storm, yes." He said, shrugging, not giving much thought to that.
The old woman continued to stare at the scene ahead in silence, until, a few dozen seconds later, she looked at him with serious eyes.
"No... this storm is unusual for this time of year." She said, causing Conrad to cross his arms and look questioningly, waiting for her to continue, trying to think where she was going with that. "I felt an inconsistency... I said that to Sigrid and Theo, but they didn't listen. I tried to improve the circle of protection but I didn't--"
Before she could continue, a cry of pain coming from the woman in front of her echoed through the cabin, causing them both to look in her direction.
"Olwyn! It is time." The old man said without looking at her, concentrating on his task of ensuring comfort for the woman in labor.
Olwyn continued to stare at Conrad for a few moments, watching him become anxious, agitated even. With a brief sigh, she turned and walked toward Petra.
Conrad ran both hands through his dark hair, still watching the scene ahead. His wife squirmed and grunted as time passed, having a little comfort delivered by the old man's energy, but it was not enough to make up for the pain.
He didn't blink... his watchful eyes stared at it almost as if in a trance. Without even realizing it, he brought his right hand to his mouth and began to bite the nail of his thumb, his right foot tapping against the ground rapidly, demonstrating his nervousness.
However, at some point, something... went wrong.
Theo blinked a few times in confusion as he felt a slight tightness in his chest. His magic was still being released into Petra's body, but it seemed that the effect was fading as the moments were passing.
Petra began to scream louder and louder. His vision briefly blurred, and he as well as his companions felt the hair on their bodies begin to shiver.
A flash lit up the sky, temporarily blinding them. A moment later, the extremely loud noise of thunder came, striking them hard, as if a bag of rocks had hit them in the chest, followed by the loud noise of something breaking.
All three widened their eyes in surprise and disbelief as they felt the protective circle being broken. The candles positioned around them were extinguished. Petra lay motionless on the bed, saved only by her chest that rose and fell as she breathed.
Until, moments later, a baby's cry was heard throughout the place, filling the ears of those present who, surprised, shocked and even relieved on Conrad's part, momentarily forgot what had just happened.
Theo stood up quickly and lit some ordinary candles that were stuck to the walls, ensuring a little visibility in that dark place.
Except for Petra who was exhausted on the bed, all eyes were focused on the little bloody baby in Sigrid's arms, who was holding him with an old cloth.
They stood for a while without even making a sound, just listening to the child cry. Eyes widened in disbelief, and their minds wondering how something like that was possible.
The baby was born healthy, but what really caught their attention was his hair. A color of fire, almost shiny, like embers in winter.
Nobody there, in their decades of wandering around the world, had ever met a child with hair as red as fire, or even a feature that looked like it.
Sigrid stood up slightly, carefully, not for the baby, but because she feared falling.
She approached Conrad and handed the child to him, walking away as if the boy was going to infect her with some kind of disease.
The man didn't even seem to notice... his eyes were focused only on that intense red.
"... How... is that possible?" Theo asked to no one in specific, briefly alternating her gaze between her two companions before turning back to face the baby.
Conrad didn't answer him. Being honest with himself, he didn't know what to say at that moment. He just walked towards the bed, crouched down as soon as he got close, and held the baby out towards Petra.
His wife, still panting, looked for a few moments at the little being in her husband's arms. Her brown eyes focused on the red, but unlike everyone else there, she just ignored it and grabbed the child, holding him safe in her arms.
Her eyes gazed proudly at her son, a small tired smile was born on her lips, and she held the boy close to her face.
"That...that's a bad omen" Sigrid said, drawing the attention of Conrad as well as everyone else.
"What do you mean by that?" Conrad asked, staring at her with a certain seriousness on his face.
"T... the protective circle... the... the candles... the storm... his hair. That's not normal!" She said, staring at Conrad just as seriously, maybe even more so.
The man stared again at the baby in his wife's arms. His birth was unusual, sure... but so what?
Before he or anyone else could say anything, their attention was drawn by the strong light coming through the window.
Olwyn was the first to approach, and her ever-so-neutral or serious self looked on in a mixture of admiration and, mostly, hesitation at the sight of the sea of flames that had spread through the forest beside them, the strong flames ignoring the rain.
Everyone focused on the flames for a few moments, which were difficult to put out, and even without realizing it, their gaze then fell on the baby's hair. The color... was almost the same.
"No... no, that's nonsense." Conrad said, turning away from the window and standing next to Petra, who was now looking at them with some confusion on her face.
"What? Nonsense? How can you deny that? The proof is right there! The boy was cursed by the gods!" Sigrid said, getting a little carried away. A contrast from her always so quiet and reserved nature.
"No! This is just a coincidence! What you call a curse, I call nature! Storms like this happen!" Conrad said, feeling her hand lightly grip his forearm, but still not looking at Petra.
Sigrid opened her mouth to say something, however, Theo stopped her by placing his left hand gently on the woman's shoulder and taking a step forward, standing face to face with Conrad.
"In none of my long years have I ever witnessed anything like this. This boy was born under unusual conditions. The breaking of the protective circle may or may not have been just because of a strong lightning strike. It may or may not have been just coincidence, but, Conrad... keep in mind what can happen. Fear and hatred arise from any difference, no matter how small. Pray to the gods that it is just a mere coincidence and nothing more." Theo said, walking towards Petra who was looking at him a bit startled even.
He placed both hands on the woman's stomach, and his magic glowed in a faint blue.
"She'll be fine soon enough, but she needs to rest. I've made sure she gets a little more comfort in the next few days." Theo said, turning and walking toward where he had left his hood.
Sigrid and Olwyn had already picked up their things, both looking anxious to get back to their quarters. Or, perhaps, just anxious to get out of there.
"Okay, thank you very much, Theo." Conrad said, pulling out a chair that was in the corner of the room and sitting down right next to Petra, watching the old man open the door.
"No need to thank me. I returned the help you gave me years ago." Theo said, standing beside the open door, staring at Conrad with a serious countenance for a few moments. "This is where we part ways, old friend."
Conrad sighed at the man's speech. His dark eyes fell on his child in his wife's arms. He leaned forward slightly and rested both arms on his thighs, not wanting to look at that gaze Theo was directing at him.
"... All right, you got it, Theo. Thanks so much again." He said, raising his head and staring the man in the eyes.
Theo nodded briefly and went through the door. Sigrid was already outside waiting for him.
Olwyn was the last to leave. Her tired eyes focused on Conrad for a few moments, looking a bit conflicted inside. But after a brief sigh, she left the small cabin, closing the door behind her and leaving the small family alone.
As soon as they left, it was possible for both adults inside to hear footsteps drifting away for a brief period, even in the rain.
Conrad sighed once more and bowed his head, running his left hand through his hair. The moment he had been so looking forward to did not turn out quite the way he had imagined.
Petra touched him gently on the shoulder and he turned to her. The woman looked at him with a small smile, a mixture of pride with a slight tinge of sadness.
In her arm, their son had calmed down and looked as if he was about to sleep, if not already asleep.
He briefly glanced at the door. It didn't matter what those three said, or what they thought... he was a father now, and he would take care of that child.
The first few years that passed were... difficult. His crops did not produce much, his cows gave no milk, his chickens laid rotten eggs, and his pigs were dying of an unknown disease.
An illness afflicted the little fire-haired child. His crying was constant, his weakness permeated for weeks, disappearing for a few days, only to strike him again.
Conrad saved some of the money he got from his sales and hired a doctor in town. But even this was no use. The doctor was surprised that the symptoms did not leave the little boy, even with the use of medicinal herbs, potions and even magic.
Until, without much hope and in a rather dark period for the family, the boy recovered completely, as if he had never been ill.
They did not understand what had happened, much less had any idea how it had happened. But in the end they were just grateful to the gods that the boy was finally out of bed, that his suffering was over.
Time passed in the blink of an eye. The little red-haired boy grew up, as did his normal curiosity for his age.
Time passed without any kind of relevant event, any kind of misfortune, or anything that indicated the fury of the gods. Nothing that could indicate that the little boy had been cursed, and at a certain moment, both Petra and Conrad simply forgot the words of those three that day, convincing themselves that they were wrong and that it was just a coincidence.
However, something that stuck in Conrad's mind were Theo's words. His son's red hair was unique, and would certainly attract attention. Because of this, he avoided taking him into town whenever he went to sell his products, and on the rare occasions that he did take him, he left a cloth tied on his head to hide his hair.
Years passed, and the small family lived quietly in their cabin. Both Conrad and Petra had to admit that their lives had improved a little since they had left the north and gone south.
At the moment, the sun was timidly peeking over the horizon, slowly chasing away the night.
Conrad was already on his feet, preparing to go into town again. His harvest had given great returns. He had been stockpiling a good amount of milk in recent times.
He was well known in town, he had a certain loyal clientele. He knew he would make a considerable amount of money that day.
The man scratched the back of his head and yawned as he walked across the room. He scratched his eyes, and soon his attention turned to the small red dot that was walking toward him.
"Good morning, Dad." The little boy said sleepily, his face slightly puffy and his messy hair making it evident that he had just gotten out of bed.
Conrad murmured a low "good morning" as he stroked the little boy's hair and headed toward the closet ahead.
Behind him, the little boy picked up a bucket from the corner of the kitchen and made his way toward the door, hearing the creaking sound of the bed behind him, knowing it was his mother getting up.
He opened the door, trying not to cringe at the uncomfortable noise, and left the small cabin.
Calmly, but striding briskly, he went around his house and made his way to the back, heading for the well not far from there. To the right, the pigsty.
The land was spacious. Just behind the pigsty was the cow pen. To the left was the chicken coop, only a few dozen steps away from the well. The plantation was far ahead, following a small dirt path through the trees to an open area.
Before getting water, the boy walked to the right to the small stable they had and gave a small petting to the mane of one of the horses.
"Hey, Frigg. How was your night, boy? You take care of Daddy today, alright?" He said, smiling slightly at the horse. However, he blinked a few times in confusion as he saw that he got no reaction from the animal.
His eyes then focused on the mare a few steps further behind the horse. The animal looked a bit strange, as she usually always greeted him along with Frigg.
Although it was unusual, they didn't seem sick, so the boy just turned and walked back towards the well.
As he approached, the boy tied a rope to the handle of the bucket and began to lower it slowly, yawning once more.
For a few moments he ran his eyes around the place. Some of the pigs were still lying down, while others were standing next to some agitated cubs.
From there he couldn't see the cow pen very well because of the chicken coop, so he didn't mind much the lack of movement, or the silence that had settled in.
After pulling the bucket up again, already full of water, he removes the rope from its handle and walks carefully towards his house.
His childish eyes rested on his father, waiting for him with his hands on his waist, two or three steps to the right of the door, looking at the open field ahead that led to a dirt road barely visible from there.
His mother had left a small bench out there, the bench would fit all of them, and usually, Conrad used to leave the linen cloths, right next to three cups, each belonging to one of them.
As soon as he approached, he placed the bucket a few steps beside his father, who walked over to the bench beside him and picked up one of the cloths, passing it through his teeth a few moments later.
The boy did the same, getting a slight taste of that paste his mother always made.
"When you're done..." His father began, taking some water from one of the glasses and pouring it into his mouth. He squinted for a few moments and spat the water on the ground. "Your mother sorted the baskets inside. Feed the animals."
The boy nodded as he also yawned, spitting the water onto the floor beside him shortly thereafter.
"Are you sure you don't want me to go? You have quite a bit of merchandise today." The boy asked, looking at his father, even though he knew he was only taken into town when his mother went along.
"Yes, I do. I finished fixing the wagon, I can manage. I'm pretty sure I'll sell most of it pretty quickly." Conrad said, tossing the rest of the water that was in the glass to the side and reentering the small cabin.
The boy stood up and, just as his father had been a moment ago, began to observe the field ahead. He didn't like to stay home much, he couldn't leave the house, and once he was done with his chores he didn't have much to do. Of course, besides being obliged to study.
So he was always excited when he went to the city. He would get a glimpse of all those houses and stores, all those people, and especially, he liked to observe the soldiers.
The adornments he saw on those armors, the way they held their swords, how they carried themselves, imposing respect wherever they passed... it was something in which he was somewhat amazed.
"Ingvar." He was brought out of his thoughts by his mother's voice, and quickly turned to the side, watching her just outside the door with two medium-sized baskets on the floor. "Take the rations for the pigs and the cows. Don't forget to feed the chickens and change the water."
She said, reentering the house before the boy could even say anything.
He sighed briefly, watching his father smile amusedly in his direction and stroke his hair again as he passed by his side.
The boy stared at the back of Conrad, who was walking toward the stable to unhitch the horses. Ingvar then walked over to the baskets, crouched down, and after placing the handles on his shoulders, stood up again, lifting both baskets with a short, brief grunt.
"Aren't you going to wish him a safe journey? Your father is already leaving." Petra said as she watched the boy walk away.
Ingvar grunted again as he crouched down and left the baskets on the ground. His clear eyes focused on his father, who was already positioning the horses at the full wagon.
His mother approached first. His father turned and took her by the waist, placing a brief kiss on her lips.
"Be careful on the way." She said, moving a few steps away. In response, he just nodded before turning to Ingvar.
"Take care of things here. While I'm gone, you're the man of the house." Conrad said, placing his left hand briefly on the shoulder of the boy, who nodded in confirmation.
"Leave it to me. But I would protect the house better if I had a sword." He said, and as a result, his father arched an eyebrow and laughed lightly, while his mother put her right hand on her waist and faced him a little more seriously.
"We're not going to spend money on a sword, we already told you. We'll save up so that hopefully we can send you to study in the capital." She said. Ingvar turned to her with a small defeated grimace.
"A soldier's life is not as worth as it seems. Believe me." Conrad said, turning around soon after and climbing into the wagon.
He took the reins of the horses and looked again at his family.
"Be careful on the road. And good luck at the sales today." Ingvar said. His father nodded to him with a small smile and moved with the horses.
Petra and Ingvar watched him walk away for a few minutes, until he hit the dirt road.
"Well, come on, you still have to feed the animals, and you haven't even eaten anything yet." She said, and with a small nod, he walked towards the two baskets, lifting them up again. "I'll leave some fruit and bread for you on the table. Don't be long." Petra said, just before she entered the house.
Ingvar made his way to the pigsty. From the basket, he took a full packet of ration and entered the pigsty.
"The food is here, you lazy bastards." He announced as he saw the pigs still lying down, throwing the ration into the feeder present in the corner of the pigsty, drawing the attention of the pigs, who soon approached.
He then left the pigsty, picked up the baskets again, and walked toward the pen.
As he approached, his steps became slow, his eyes alert and confused.
He didn't see any cows in the stall.
With a frown, Ingvar left the baskets on the ground and approached quickly. It was then that his eyes focused on the end of the pen, where the wooden structure had been destroyed.
With hesitant steps, he moved forward, running his eyes over the amount of blood on the ground. A trail had formed in the dirt. Something large had dragged the cows into the forest, towards their crops.
Ingvar began to breathe harder, he didn't move, only his eyes followed the trail left on the ground, until they stopped at the half body of a cow at the base of the forest ahead, lying at the foot of some destroyed trees.
Something big passed by... big, strong and quiet, since no one heard anything that night.
The boy didn't want to stay there any longer. He turned and, not bothering about the baskets on the ground, ran towards his house while calling for his mother.