Dragon slayer

The dare

The sounds of coughing were the only thing that broke the silence that had settled into Gwyn's home since her father had become sick. Before he had become ill the house was always buzzing with the sounds of him cooking, cleaning, telling terrible jokes, and the rustle of pages being turned. Gwyn sighed as she opened the door to his room, she would have to go check up on him again. It wasn't that she didn't want to help take care of her father, or talk to him. Gwyn just didn't like seeing him in bed like that, all weak and pale. As she entered the smell of vomit overpowered her, a bucket filled with vomit lay by the bed. She resisted the urge to gag, she would have to empty it out later. She saw her father sitting at his desk in the corner, looking at a book of his. Gwyn's first reaction was annoyance, her father needed to be in bed getting better! "Dad! What are you doing out of bed!?"

She cried out. He looked at her, and she could see just how pale he was, his eyes were bloodshot, and he looked pale and thin as paper. He flinched, surprised, he slammed the book he was looking at closed. Gwyn had learned by experience that her father was very protective about what he read. "Ahhh, Gwyn, I was wondering when you were going to check up on me. You know, after you left yesterday when you thought I was asleep."

Her father said pointedly, without even bothering to look at her. Gwyn suppressed a groan of frustration, she had thought that he had been asleep. Of course he hadn't been asleep! I should have been more careful! She berated herself for being so careless. She had been told by the town doctor to stay with her father and watch over him, but since he had been sleeping, she had thought that it wouldn't be a problem to leave for a bit. Of course she had lost track of time, and when her friends approach her, she couldn't just leave! Of course, that wasn't the answer her father wanted. Did he even want her to reply? A bunch of coughing broke her train of thought. "Look, you need to get back to bed."

Said Gwyn impatiently. She couldn't waste anymore time then she had to today! Her father frowned at her tone of voice, but with her help he made his way to his bed. Once he was laying down he opened his mouth to say something, Gwyn cut him off, hoping to avoid the conversation that was about to come. "I know, I know. I'll dump out the vomit, and get the soup ready."

That wasn't what he was going to say, they both knew that. Hurrying, she picked up the bucket and left the room as quickly as possible, shutting the door behind her. Though it was gross, dumping out the vomit bucket was preferable to staying in the same room with her father. It's not that I don't love him, it's just... well anyways! She thought to herself. She took the bucket out from the house a dumped it out at the villages grey water. She then rinsed it out with some river water, and brought it back to the house. Gwyn only had an hour before she had to meet up with her friends. Gwyn knew they had some leftover broth from a previous night, it hadn't gone bad yet, and it needed to be used up. Luckily there was already a fire blazing in the fireplace, Gwyn couldn't remember a time when the fireplace wasn't alight with warm flames. She put the soup on the fire, and began to stir it. They didn't have much food wise in the house, her fault probably for not going to the market. Though she had a reason for not going to the marketplace! She told herself. After all, they had to ration the money they had. With her father unable to work, money was beginning to run dry. Her father was a candle maker, the only one in town. Every second day he had sold the candles at the market. Now with him to sick to leave his room... Gwyn had tried to sell all the candles to keep them going, but it hadn't been enough. She wished that she had bothered to learn how to make them, but she had been to lazy and caught up with herself to! Gwyn sighed, shaking her head. What was done was done. The soup was finished. Now came her least favourite part, serving it to her father. 

Feeding her father was typically a strenuous task, mostly because of her fathers viperous tongue. Her father had always been a bit blunt, but the sickness had obviously stripped away much of his self control. So while staring at his weak form, spoon feeding him food in a terrible smelling room, she also had to deal with his scathing remarks. She had quickly learned that adults could be just as snarky as kid were. Today though, it had been going better then it usually did. Her father seemed to be recovered enough to at least feed himself now, and he seemed to be in a better mood now that he had cooled down. He was even telling her a few bad jokes, of which they both knew that she loved, but she would never admit it aloud. He seemed to be in a good maybe. Perhaps she could ask for permission to leave for the rest of the day instead of just sneaking out? But what if he says no!? She didn't want to risk it, but still! Her father must have seen the internal debate going on inside her, she was never very good at hiding her expressions. His smile faded into a frown. "You weren't planning on going to hang out with those kids?"