Iron Rations

Lyall Hound- Thom Grant

I and Shiv spent the rest of the morning hunting. When we emerged from the woods, I was carrying in one hand a red-furred fox and two squirrels to compensate for the lost rabbit, the other hand held a pouch filled with strawberries. I feel great. Today wasn't a bad day, even better than most days, to be honest.

Shiv cried out before spiraling down from the sky to land on my shoulder. As a reward for her hard work, I raised one of the squirrels to her, and she got it from me. She ate her reward on my shoulder as we walked to the center of the village.

When my father was alive, he'd tell stories about the times before the war every night, before we went to sleep. He used to say the country of Werravinn had glorious cities towering with magnificent structures. People worked in offices instead of being in the forest. Back when I was a kid, my favorite part was someplace called a "playground", a place where children could play around. My father said my grandmother and grandfather met there one day when they were five, and became best friends ever since.

But that "time of peace" as he used to call it didn't last. People began to fight over territories, and the little squabbles turned to a war. The cities were used as battlefields, the money used to repair them used on weapons. Werravinn crumbled down to poverty. Since then, the remaining people lived in villages, hundreds of miles from each other. The villages were composed of small structures: wooden houses, animal-skin tents. The lucky ones had houses made of stone and lived in the center of the village. I'm not one of them, so I and Shiv lived on a weathered log cabin in the exact edge of the place.

Given the choice, I'd rather not step into the lucky ones' territory: it seemed entirely out of place to see a hunter leave the woods, his savior and own land. But I don't have a choice. If I want to survive, this place is the only way to go.

I stepped in front of a stone-structured house. It basically shouted "wealthy" at me. The walls were made of bricks, and there was a red chimney, gray smoke billowing out of its mouth. The windows were made of glass and even had curtains. There was even a porch in front of the door.

I stepped on the porch (how new it felt!) and knocked on the door. After a few seconds, the door creaked open and a boy about my age appeared.

It was Thomas Grant. We were about the same height, though he had dark brown hair, bright blue eyes and freckles. He also wore an expensive jacket. Everything about him shouted he was the son of the richest man in the village.

Thomas half-smiled. "Lyall Hound."

I nodded curtly. "Thom Grant." He always preferred "Thom" over "Thomas" saying the name reminded him of coal dust. He hated coal dust, exactly what you woudl expect from a boy his status.

Thom's eyes met Shiv, who instantly glared.

Thom leapt slightly at her sharp expression. "Never lost your bird, eh, bird boy?" He's trying to hide his fear, I could sense it.

I gritted my teeth at his nickname for me, but I regained my composure. Getting into a fight with the richest boy in the place had never done me any good. I learned that the hard way.

"If I lose her, I won't be around today to give your father the strawberries he asked for yesterday," I replied smoothly. I handed him the pouch. "Your dessert."

Thom's lips curved to a smile. "Great job, Hound. Every dog deserves a reward sometimes, such as talking to me."

You call yourself a reward when you act like some well-to-do runt? I would've yelled that, but I calmed myself down, not wanting to get into trouble. "Anything your dad asked me to do?"

"Yeah," Thom replied. "Show a little respect, will you? You looked like you wanted to strangle me."

I'd trade my soul just to do that. "Fine."

"Dad wanted a huge deer for tonight's dinner," said Thom. "My rich Uncle Fabard is coming for dinner. He said to bring it home before sunset."

"Fine," I repeated. I turned and walked away without bothering to say anything else.

I headed to the house and when I got inside, Shiv flew off head of me and perched on my father's coat rack.

I left the game on the kitchen table and removed my jacket. I ignored the biting cold as snow began to fall outside. I checked the cabinets, and found nothing. I shouldn't have finished off today's breakfast. The only thing I pulled out is an empty milk bottle.

I put on my jacket again and got the last squirrel for trade. I realized I might need another thing, since the price of milk is high these days. I noticed the fox.

It took some time, but I managed to strip it off its pelt with a kitchen knife. The pelt isn't my best work, but it's enough for a good trade. I cut the fox meat to pieces and soaked the pieces in a bowl filled with water and vinegar.

"I'm going out," I told Shiv. "We're out of milk." I raised the empty milk bottle. I know there's still time later, but no one knows when the war will get worse. Right now, it isn't its strongest. There's still time for me to get out.

I wore the fox pelt around my shoulders, before opening the door. The frozen wind blew straight at me. I turned back and nodded at Shiv, who flew over to me and pulled my hair. I guess it's her own version of a good-bye hug.

"Later." Shiv flew inside the house and I closed the door behind her. Then I began to walk to the other edge of the village where the traders are.