"Mama! Wiwo run way agin!"
"Oh no you don't, young man!"
Willow was grabbed by the neck of his vest and pulled back into the house, where he glared at Corn for telling on him. The boy looked at him with two large innocent green eyes, before playing with the doll Willow had carved for him not so long ago. "But mum...!" Willow wailed, stretching the words out as if they would have more of an impact. His mother was not moved.
"Chores," his mother told him, handing him the broom, before rushing to the nursery where her month old twin daughters were crying pitifully. Willow swept at the debris upon the floor without enthusiasm, with heavy sighs.
"I don't know what all of your noise is for," his sister, Fern began to lecture, as she cleaned their bowls and plates in the stone heated water. "I've been helping mum around this place for years now and I think you have gotten off lightly until now. If anything, mum is still too soft on you!" She turned to see how her brother was reacting to her words, only to see that Willow had vanished, the broom left against the wall by the entrance. Corn shook his small head and returned his attention to his toy.
It was dusk, the sky alight with its usual fire, but Willow did not head for the caves as the boys had discovered a better place to meet. Upon the other side of the lake, Willow had discovered a small dark cave, nearly hidden by the foliage, but had forgotten about it not long after. But that week, he had Slate had almost been caught during a dusk visit by the trading wagon guards. They had agreed that they needed to find somewhere else to meet and Willow had taken him to the lake and that cave. Slate had been lucky to discover that though the tunnels it led to were twisty and tight, he could find his way home from there and so the two boys had their new haven.
There were a few small animals still lingering at the lake; a great eared gazelle, it's abundant lobes flickering at the slightest of sounds, a family of wading birds enjoying the peaceful moment before sunset and one small, grey boy, sheltered in the shadows of the lakeside cave. He wore the cloth about his eyes for now, resting them from the light which was still too bright for them at this point and he quietly listened to the song birds fading tunes before he heard a loud splash nearby.
Startled, he looked towards the lake, where the gazelle cried out and fled and the waders took to the sky. The water surface rippled and bubbled before a shock of red hair burst from it. "Hahaha!" Willow laughed as he paddled towards the cave.
"Must you always?" Slate complained.
Willow tilted his head for a moment and replied; "yes!" Slate sighed but grinned, the forest boy's smile was too infectious. "You should join me!"
"No, I told you, that water is too cold!" Slate involuntarily shuddered. But a familiar twinkle had already entered those jade eyes and despite the grey child's quick retreat, found himself tugged backwards to fall into the lake's sudden depths. "Ahhh!" he screamed, before paddling quickly to dry land. Willow was rolling upon the grasses in fits of giggles as the dripping wet boy climbed out of the water. Slate removed his soaked tunic and threw it at the other boy. It landed on Willow's head, but that just made him chuckle harder. Slate could not remain angered for long and joined the other boy in laughter.
****
Upon his flat stomach, lying in the long grasses which sheltered the cave's entrance, the boy deftly wove the long stalk of the small blue flower into his arrangement, before plucking a nearby daisy between green fingers. The boy was mostly naked, having enjoyed a quick swim not long before and his damp clothes once more hung from branches nearby.
Slate felt as if he should be used to seeing his friend like this, but on occasions, he still felt the heat rise in his cheeks, turning his grey skin to nearly black. "Sorry, I am late!" He called out from the shadows of the cave before leaving the shelter. The dusk light had become tolerable allowing him sometime to play outside with his friend.
"It's okay," the other boy sounded drowsy, indicating their time this evening would be short. "I got out early. The twins started to walk so mum and Fern have their hands too full to worry about me."
"What about Corn?" Slate asked.
"I carved him another doll, so he didn't tattle on me." Willow yawned loudly, but continued his weaving. They were quiet for a few moments, but Willow began to yawn again so Slate reluctantly suggested that they called it a night. "'K," Willow agreed, obediently. He stood up, placed the flower crown upon his friends head with a satisfied expression before taking himself and his clothes to the heights and disappearing into the leafy canopy.
Slate touched the mess of flowers and leaves upon his head and felt the heat rise in his cheeks once more.
****
Finishing the daily chores; sweeping the stone floor, ensuring a healthy stock of firewood and fresh water was in the kitchen and cleaning the table after dinner, meant that Slate could have some free time, with permission from his grandpa. The old man was a wily one, he was smart enough to know what the boy was getting up to, but had long given up trying to stop him. His body was not as agile as the youngster's and he was no longer as strong as he used to be, but as long as the boy did not bring trouble to his doorstep, he was fine with this.
Unfortunately, trouble in the form of a ten year old girl had begun to find him. "That girl is waiting outside again," grandpa said, gruffly. Slate looked at him with a frown, which transformed into a pleading look.
"Can't you tell her that I am not here?" he begged. "Say you sent me to trade for something?"
The old man looked at his grandson. The boy had grown taller and sturdier over the last few years. He wore his long silver hair tied at the nape of his neck and his large black eyes often sported a distant, dreamy look that had caught the attention of the village girls. Those girls could only gaze from a far, however as the Chief's daughter had already expressed her interest in him. The old man lit up his pipe. "Young men should solve their own problems," Grandpa claimed. "Part of growing up."
Slate rolled his eyes ceiling-ward before opening the door to see the golden haired girl standing in the enclosed street, lit dimly by glowing balls of fungus, anxiously waiting for him. She smiled sweetly when she saw him. "Hi, Slate," she said. The boy sighed, but gave no response. At least she didn't make excuses about her presence. Closing the door behind him, he began to walk away from his grandpa's house and down the street. Running to catch up with him before matching his pace, she coyly glanced at him through her lashes. "Where are we going?"
"'We' aren't going anywhere," he told her, coldly. "I have stuff to do, so see you."
"I can help!" She suggested, not accepting the hint.
"No you can't," Slate replied. "I'm going to find some zebra jasper." Well he had planned to eventually, he had wanted Willow to make something for him, a game, but Willow was still practicing carving chalk and coal; carving harder rocks would be a challenge.
"Like what your necklace is made of?" The girl mentioned, innocently. Slate frowned and clutched the pendant beneath his tunic.
"How do you know of it?" He didn't share that he wore it, it's uniqueness could lead to it being coveted by others. Not that he thought Yang would allow itself to be stolen, but he disliked inviting trouble. It was enough that he could spend a couple of hours a day with his reincarnated sweetheart. He would never claim that he didn't long for more, but at the present time that was surely impossible.
The girl had the decency to blush, her earthy skin glowing rosy for a moment. She could not exactly say that she had caught a peek of him undressing at the male baths. Her father would surely lock her in her room should he find out.
"Amber!" a familiar male voice called. The girl looked back down the street to see her brother and ground her teeth together in annoyance. The older boy was now thirteen and had grown in height and breadth, his voice had begun to take on the rumbling deep tones of an adult. With his warm copper hair and his chiselled, strong features, girls had long taken notice of and he had grown in popularity. But he also took his role as her older brother seriously, protecting her from adults that might use her to gain favour with her father and of course, from boys.
But Slate shouldn't count, she thought, irritably. After all, he's the one I have chosen.
"Greetings, Balsalt," Slate said, politely. The older boy returned the greeting. "I'll be off now." He quickly made his way out of the village before any excuse could be made to stop him.
"Where is he headed in such a hurry?" Balsalt asked his sister as he encouraged her to return to their house.
"Off to dig around in the rocks and dirt!" she sulked, arms across her small frame.
"Ah, well he is the son of a mining family," Balsalt said, offhandedly. Amber looked suddenly horrified. She couldn't wed someone of that occupation. Her eyes glanced at the barracks and arena as they passed them.
"I think I should speak to daddy about that," she murmured to herself and she'd herself of the reluctance to return home.