Months had passed since that encounter in the alley. Life in the neighborhood had returned to normal. I was no longer the main topic of conversation among the kids, and the bullies had disappeared as if swallowed by the earth. It was as if they'd never existed.
My training with Grandpa carried on, and I could feel myself growing stronger with each session. That day, we sparred in his backyard as usual. I held a short wooden sword, its surface polished smooth from constant use, while Grandpa wielded his trusty long wooden staff.
The sparring was intense. Sweat trickled down my face as I darted around, trying to find an opening. Every time I thought I'd outmaneuvered him, he would see through my attack at the last second, dodging with a smirk or deflecting with uncanny precision.
"You're getting faster," he said with a proud grin, blocking another strike. "But speed isn't enough without control, Arthur."
Even when I managed to surprise him a few times, it was clear that Grandpa—Gramps Sensei, as I liked to call him in my head—was on a whole different level.
After the session, I headed to my parents' grain field to help with the harvest. My little sister came along, toddling behind our mother. She was only three, and her curious eyes darted everywhere, especially at the insects flitting above the tall golden stalks.
She laughed as a butterfly landed on her tiny hand, her wonder contagious. I couldn't help but smile. She was smart, maybe even smarter than me, and just as curious about the world.
The day was peaceful, filled with the chirping of birds, the rustle of the wind through the fields, and the occasional calls of neighboring farmers. It all blended together into a kind of melody that accompanied our work.
When evening fell, we returned home for dinner. Tonight, it was steak and potatoes, marinated with rosemary, garlic, and chilies—Grandma's special recipe. By the time I finished eating, my stomach was full, and I was ready to collapse.
In my room, I sat on the edge of my bed, letting my mind wander. I dreamed about my future—becoming an adventurer, climbing to the top as the world's strongest magician, and even having a dragon as a pet. I imagined soaring through the skies on its back, the wind whipping through my hair as the world stretched out below.
But amid all those dreams, one thought lingered: I wouldn't have come this far without Grandpa. His training and guidance had shaped me. I wanted to show my gratitude, to give him something meaningful. But what could I possibly give him?
An old book of forgotten spells? A new couch for his afternoon naps? Or maybe some glasses so he could actually read the signs in the marketplace?
The more I thought about it, the more the ideas piled up, until I eventually drifted off to sleep, worn out from the day's work.
The next morning, sunlight spilled through my window, warming my face as I stirred awake. I stretched and rubbed my eyes, glancing outside at the familiar view of the fields and the distant mountains.
And then, it hit me—a perfect idea for Grandpa's gift.
I went to the kitchen where my mom was playing with my sister. My dad, on the other hand, was still fast asleep like a bear in hibernation. That lazy old man.
I quickly prepared breakfast for myself and the rest of the family. The aroma of sizzling omelette and wild boar meat filled the kitchen. I ate my portion as fast as I could, savoring the hearty flavors but wasting no time. Afterward, I got dressed in a rush, brushing my teeth so quickly and efficiently that it felt like a personal record.
"Bye, Mom!" I shouted as I dashed out of the house, barely giving her time to respond.
I knew exactly what I needed to do and what I would give Grandpa.
He once told me a story, one that left an impression on me. He spoke of a wolf hunt, one he undertook when he was much younger. A child had been kidnapped by a wolf in a remote village, and Grandpa had been called upon to track the beast.
His voice grew somber and nostalgic as he recounted the long, grueling chase through the wilderness. After hours of pursuit, he finally found the wolf and defeated it, rescuing the child. The relief and gratitude of the child's parents had been overwhelming. He spoke of their tears and praises with a mix of pride and humility, but there was a weight to his words—a sadness that hinted at the toll of such hunts.
It was a story that had stuck with me.
And now, I had an idea for a gift worthy of him.
I would hunt down a wolf, just as he had, and bring him its head as proof of what he had taught me. It would be a symbol of my strength and gratitude—a way to show him that his lessons had not been in vain.
After nearly an hour of walking, I finally saw the wild forest of Mirnia in the distance. Sunlight pierced through the canopy of tall green trees, creating shimmering patterns on the forest floor. Birds burst from the dense woods, their wings scattering leaves as they soared into the sky. My heart started racing—fast and relentless, like a gryphon diving to catch its prey.
Standing at the forest's edge, I paused. My mother's words from three years ago echoed sharply in my mind: "I don't want him going too far from home during his training." It was like her voice had come back to haunt me, turning my moment of courage into a nagging headache.
For a minute, I debated going back, imagining her fiery anger if she found out where I'd gone. But I was already here. Turning back now would be as disappointing as failing outright. I clenched my fists and took a deep breath.
With my resolve renewed, I stepped into the forest. The dirt path ahead quickly began to vanish under the cover of dense trees. Shadows danced between the trunks, and the air grew heavier. I reminded myself why I was here.
I began searching for wolf tracks, but it was harder than I'd expected. These woods were famous for their wolves—people whispered that they lurked behind every tree—yet finding a sign of them felt impossible. Hours passed, and I knew my family must've already sat down for lunch. That thought stung.
Hunger gnawed at my stomach, but I wouldn't let that stop me. I pressed on, determined. Finally, near the entrance of a dark cave, I found something promising: a deer carcass. Its legs had been ripped apart by savage bites. This wasn't the work of scavengers; it was fresh—done less than an hour ago. Wolves.
Excitement surged through me as I examined the scene more closely. Sure enough, tufts of wolf fur clung to the torn body. I knew they had to be nearby.
It didn't take long to find them.
A group of eight wolves lounged near a puddle in a small clearing, their dark shapes blending into the dim forest. I crouched behind a bush, watching them, and quickly formed a plan.
I returned to the deer carcass and sliced off small pieces of meat, stuffing them into my pockets. These wolves might not be hungry anymore, but the scent could still pique their curiosity.
Moving carefully behind the thick underbrush, I crept closer. My heart pounded in my chest, so loud it felt like the wolves might hear it. Finally, one wolf stood, sniffing the air cautiously. It was smaller than the others, with sleek black fur that gleamed in the fading sunlight.
"Perfect," I whispered under my breath.
I slowly began to lead the wolf away from the pack, trailing bits of meat as I moved further into the trees. Every few steps, I glanced back to make sure it was still following me. It was.
After about a hundred meters, I climbed a low tree, positioning myself carefully on a sturdy branch. I clutched the pocket knife my mother had given me—a gift she said I'd need for "any situation."
"Come on," I whispered, almost impatiently, as the wolf sniffed the ground below.
This was it. My chance.
I steadied my breathing, clenching the knife tighter. Don't think. Just act.
'This is for Grandpa,' I thought. 'I can't let him down.'
The wolf made its mistake, lowering its guard as it sniffed the trail of meat. That was my moment.
I leapt from the branch, knife in hand, and struck. The blade cut deep into its throat. Blood spurted out as the wolf howled, a haunting, pitiful sound that echoed through the forest like a warning cry.
Panic set in. I knew the others would hear the howl and come running. There wasn't much time.
Working as fast as I could, I cut off the wolf's head, gripping it tightly by its thick fur. Blood dripped down my arm, but I didn't care. I had what I came for.
I sprinted back toward the path, clutching the head as if my life depended on it. The shadows of the forest seemed to close in behind me, and every sound made my heart race.
As I burst out of the woods, I noticed the sky beginning to change. The sun was setting, its orange rays streaking through the trees, casting a golden light over the fields beyond. My dark hair glimmered in the fading sunlight as I ran, breathless but triumphant.