Iron Rations

Yule Connor- Capture

When you're sleeping in a warm cabin suffocated by plump pillows and a blanket draped over you, you could expect a goodnight's sleep. That's what happened. But morning was basically a disaster.

Emile woke us up at about 5:00 in the morning, saying we're leaving the cabin since we're being hunted. Breakfast happened in a flash and consisted of stale bread and goat's milk, and then we were forced to pack our stuff and head off into the unwelcome forest.

But the situation is a lot better than my situation with Lyall. For one thing, Emile has a sleigh pulled by a huge reindeer, where he piled all of his things, along with me, since I was too sleepy to walk, and his dog, which is basically too stubborn to walk this early. 

While Shiv flew above us, Emile and Lyall led the way beside the donkey, talking about hunter and family stuff and pointing at a sheet of parchment, probably a map, every now and then. For an entire hour of talking and endless travelling, I could not understand a thing they were talking about. It's like hearing two people speak in a foreign language. After that, I decided to speak up. "Uncle Emile, where are we headed, exactly?"

Emile turned around to grin at me. "I'm just giving you guys a ride. Lyall here told me to drop you two here." He pointed at a red mark in the map, in the foot of a mountain.

I turned to Lyall. "Why there?" I asked.

"You said we're still looking for the hero," said Lyall. "Legend says that's close to where the hero lives off. And besides, the sooner we find this hero, the sooner we get back to ordinary lives."

I nodded, though I wondered what ordinary life means to me now. 

"So, Yule," said Emile, who must've learned enough from Lyall and turned to me now. "Lyall mentioned your parents were hunters?"

I shrugged. "It's...hard to say. My father hunts, but my mother often gathers. But she still hunts, I guess," I said sheepishly.

Emile seemed contented by my answer but eyes seemed sparked by something...curiosity, I guess. "What're their names?"

"Who?"

"Your parents. I must've known them at some point."

"Oh, uh," I didn't know why I suddenly feel so nervous talking. My answer came in a stutter. "My father's name...T-Timothy Connor. M-mom's name...Eunice."

"Timothy..." Emile muttered. "I think I know a guy named Timothy once. Though I doubt he's your father."

"Really?" I tested.

Emile nodded. "He's a drunkard and a sore loser. Doesn't yell 'Yule's Dad' to me. Eunice...what's her surname before she married?"

"Skeates. Eunice Skeates."

"Skeates, eh? I think I also know someone who's a Skeates. Though the someone's a guy."

"So you don't know my parents?"

"The Skeates guy mentioned he had a daughter. He said-" Emile imitated a Scottish accent "-she's a bonnie, my daughter is. But decided to run off with a tattie-harvester. The guy's a screwball, I'm telling ya!"

Lyall snickered.

"Is there a chance your dad's a screwball or a tattie harvester, whatever that is?" said Emile.

I shrugged, not really knowing what to say. Emile laughed. "Yeah, the guy's speaking trash. I shouldda known better than to trust a guy who's out of his noggin."

Our conversation was interrupted by a screech from Shiv, who quickly arrowed down and landed on Lyall's outstretched arm. Lyall stared at the falcon, and the falcon stared back, and part of me believed they were having a conversation with their eyes. Then Shiv clicked her beak. Lyall stared ahead and frowned. "There's smoke." He indicated the crest of a mountain, where smoked spiraled from.