For Home and Hearth

By C Ray Longhurst

Part 1:1

Two brothers strolled along the narrow trail at the forest's edge, free from concern as they argued who was better with the sling. For Seth, there was no argument; he was the better shot, which made the teasing worse for his younger brother Lucas.

"You couldn't hit a giant if he stood two paces from you," Seth laughed.

"Could so!" Lucas cried. "I'd hit him right between the eyes."

Seth scoffed, "You'd be lucky you didn't hit yourself!"

As they neared the crossroad Seth gazed ahead, following the southward path with his eyes as it continued further into the wilderness.

"What is it, Seth?"

Seth's gaze remained distant. "Have you ever wanted to know what's that way?" It seemed peaceful; the familiar forest on one side, the tall grass of the open fields on the other, and the rolling hills in the distance.

"Papa said it's dangerous to go that way, he doesn't even like us playing in the forest."

"Yeah, I know."

"We could go look," Lucas said hopefully.

"No, Father's probably right, best to stay close to home," Seth said, and turned onto the path that led into the woods.

Seth always took the lead whenever they went adventuring or played in the yard. Lucas never argued and was always happy to follow, skipping along behind. Seth knew that his brother looked up to him and was sure that he would follow him to the ends of the world. They weren't just brothers, they were best friends, inseparable, even in punishment. Once, when Seth was caught stealing apples from Mr. Olmar's orchard, his father set him to work in the old farmer's fields harvesting onions. When evening drew near, Lucas stole a knob of bread and a slice of beef from their father's kitchen and brought it to Seth. He then helped to harvest the onions. They worked late into the evening filling barrow after barrow until the large field had been plucked empty.

Seth smiled as he remembered Lucas standing before him; holding the supper he had stolen and grinning cheerfully. Their father always commented that Lucas reminded him of their mother; blessed with grace, same hazel-green eyes, fine dark hair, and as charming as they were smart. Very much unlike himself, Seth thought. He likened himself to his father—a rock, plain and rough looking. His dead straight yellow-blonde hair and pale blue eyes added nothing to his otherwise plain features.

The absence of Lucas's constant chatter brought Seth out of his daydream. He stopped and turned. "What is it?" He asked.

"I think Papa is calling us." Lucas replied.

Seth listened. He could hear the gentle sounds of the forest around him; a bird hidden in the trees called to another bird deeper in the forest and a cool breeze blew against his face, playing with his hair.

"There! Can you hear?" Lucas whispered. "It is Papa!"

Seth strained to hear the gruff voice of his father beyond the forest. "He must want us to come and work the field again today."

"What are we gonna do?" Lucas whined. "I'm sick of working the damned fields."

"Yeah, me too, but Father needs help if we are to get a good harvest." Seth turned to his brother and saw the look he always had just before doing something that would get them in to trouble. "We should head back. Father will throttle us if we don't."

"I'm not going back." Lucas's grin widened. "He'll just have to harvest without us."

"Without you don't you mean. I'm heading back."