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04-11-2013, 11:27 AM
Midas
Coris was a kind fellow, with a talent for building. So when Cera chipped, “Do you think he would like them?” I smiled encouragement and replied, “Yes--you should pay him a visit soon.” There was no reason why the leather maker wouldn’t take on an apprentice; and my child had been needing one since the unfortunate banishment of his last mentor. I stepped clear of the water, heading toward our sacred tree. The ivory magnolia had waxy leaves and soft white buds. Its branches hung low enough to protect against us from the rare rain storm, but high enough that a full grown adult could stand easily beneath it wide branches. Softly I asked my son a question when we had arrived beneath it, “Would you show me a little of your work?” His little mind was a river of creativity, a river that should never be dammed up by the stressors of life. It was a trait of good parents to want the best for their children. I wouldn’t push battle work on him, though it was insisted that he train as any other youth. Even a crafter had to know the art to be able to protect himself. A general’s son wasn’t expected to become a warrior and I would be proud of anything that he choose to do. There was a few questions lingering on my mind though, ones that begged to be answered because I knew that his teenage body would soon be fostered by an adolescent brain; if it wasn’t already. Quietly I began as bravely as a father might, “You’ll be old enough to travel from the herdlands soon—what job are you wanting to take up in the herd?” Though my tone sounded just as gentle and kind as it always did, it didn’t waver because I didn’t directly ask him, “Are you going to leave?” Having him, Fina, and Ilaria made this clan really feel like a real family again. Just like it had before my dad, mom and Norse died. What would I do without him here? What did I have to come home to each and every night? A bare tree, absent scuffled dirt of Cera’s play, and without the quiet sounds of their sleep breathing in the early morning. your dying love is a rose I have buried somewhere close to you
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