Chapter Text
Small, booted feet stomp along the dirt road. Villagers step out of the way as to not be pushed and shoved by the group of rambunctious critters rushing past them.
The smaller figure at the front, the one being chased instead of chasing, has an easier time moving through the crowd, slinking between large bodies and disappearing from sight.
His pursuers on the other hand do not.
A woman stumbles and curses, too slow to move before being pushed by a large boy who runs away with no apology. But as they continue to run no one makes a comment beyond warnings.
“Watch where yur goin’!” A man yells loudly.
“Where’s chief Garth?!”
“Oi Ruck! Where do you think you’re going?!”
“Stop messin’ aroun’!”
A wagon of potatoes and cabbages gets overturned by giggling twins and the owner yells after them.
“Arcadia! Arcadius! Get back here this instant!! You brats better clean this mess up!!”
The shouts continue to go unanswered as the children continue to run. The young boy in the front is too busy to answer and his pursuers are not caring enough to feel guilty.
The small boy running away as fast as he can turns sharply to his left and bolts into the woods.
Behind him three pairs of heavily booted feet follow him. Their footsteps thump and thunder along the forest floor.
The boy continues to run, he turns to the right, into overgrown weeds with his feet quick and steady, easily dodging large rocks, tangled grass, and unstable terrain. Behind him the three pairs of feet fall hard. The chasers stumble, unfamiliar with the soft, uneven ground of the forest, yet their chase is relentless and they keep pace.
Ahead on the non-existent trail is a large fallen tree trunk. The pair of feet skid along the ground as the person stops, heels digging into dirt. The figure crouches low and then springs forward, jumping over the tree trunk and continues running.
Several feet behind the running boy comes shouts of indignation as his pursuers fail to follow. The young boy sends a look back and sees a large burly boy chasing him, leaving behind a red headed boy on his stomach groaning in pain as a twin girl laughs at him.
The small boy takes a sharp turn to the left. The kid behind him skid along the grass as he struggles to pivot.
“Get back here!” A loud angry voice yells.
The smaller boy continues to run away, using his superior knowledge of topography against his assailant.
He hops over animal burrows, fallen tree trunks, and makes pivots to the left or right, he leads the larger boy chasing him in circles. As he moves to hide in a bush a body crashes into his and sends him tumbling into the dirt.
“Haha! I win Raymond Hunting!” The girl on top of him laughs crazily.
Her brother chases after, and groans in frustration. He kicks his feet in the dirt, sending plumes of debris into Raymond’s face.
“No fair! I was supposed to get the jump on him!” He whines.
“Then you should have been faster!” She teases.
Ruck stomps closer, breathing heavily.
“If anyone should have won it’s me!” He shouts.
He picks the girl off of Raymond and throws her onto her brother, sending the twins to the ground.
Raymond moves to get up, hoping the impending argument acts as cover but Ruck kicks him in the stomach. Raymond flops to the ground, breathless, and stays pinned in place as Ruck crashes his foot down on his back.
“I’m the one who chased him through the woods!” He reasons.
The dirty twins stand up, looking at Ruck with indignation.
“Yeah, well,” Arcadia rolls her eyes. “The rules are whoever pins the runt wins. And I pinned him!”
Arcadius punches her. “That’s because you cheated!”
She punches him in turn. “Did not!”
“Did too! You took my idea!”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have told me your plan, dumbass!!”
The twins exchange slaps and rough shoves as they continue to argue.
“Did not!”
“Did too!!”
“Did not!”
“Did too!!”
“Did not!”
“Did too!!”
“Did not!”
“Did too!!”
“Did not!”
“Did too!!”
“Did not!”
“Did too!!”
“Did not!”
“Did too!!”
“Did not!”
“Did too!!”
“Hey!” Ruck interrupts. “It doesn’t matter anymore who won. It matters who lost.” He said.
The twins looked lost, slowly they stopped hitting each other. On the ground Raymond squirmed and kicked, trying to get away from Ruck. The larger boy simply pushed Raymond down harder.
“Who lost?” Arcadius asks.
His sister punched him in the arm as she began to laugh.
“Raymond you idiot!” She exclaimed.
“Ouh. .” The boy says. A wide smile spreads across his face and his laughter fills the forest alongside his sisters.
It's a horrible sound, like unmatched harmonies or dragon claws on stone. The birds take flight to escape the ear piercing sound and on the ground Raymond cringes.
Ruck crossed his arms and smiled cruelly. “That’s right, Raymond lost the game. And what do we do with losers?”
Arcadius and Arcadia laughed, cracking their knuckles.
“We punish them!” They cheered in unison.
“Exactly!” Ruck bellows.
The chaos that ensues happens too quickly for Raymond to react. The twins picked him up, supporting him by his arms as they dragged him through the forest.
“Put me down!” Raymond yelled. He thrashed in every direction to weaken the grip the malicious twins had on him to no avail.
“Stop squirming!” Arcadia complained.
“Ruck! Make the runt stop!” Her brother whined.
At the front of the line Ruck groaned and turned around. He grabbed Raymond around the neck, restricting airflow.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop trying to fight back.” He rasps.
Raymond hiccups, hyperventilating as he couldn’t breathe and was too scared to think straight. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks as the twins laughed and Ruck continued to choke him.
“Ugh!” Ruck groans. “He’s so useless!”
Arcadius laughed. “He’s crying like a girl!”
“Hey!” Arcadia complained. “He’s crying like a baby.”
Ruck laughs, releasing his grip from Raymond’s throat. The small boy wheezes in relief, sucking as much air into his lungs as he can. Before he can breathe normally, a heavy fist slammed into Raymond’s core, making him gag.
“C’mon, let’s keep walking.” Ruck orders. “We have a river perfect for Raymond the Runt.”
✨🐉✨
Raymond laid next to the river soaked to the bone in icy cold water and covered in his own blood and bruised. For 25 minutes Ruck, Arcadius, and Arcadia beat him, berated him, and soaked him in the cold river.
He could do nothing but take it all. Too weak to fight back, so he curled into a ball to protect himself as much as he could. He shivers on the cold, hard ground, weighed down by a wet fur coat and exhaustion. Resolutely, he breathes in a controlled manner, making an effort to not cry and hyperventilate.
Raymond pushes himself up slowly, breathing through the pain of misaligned ribs in his gut, a sprained leg, and a bruised face. He whimpers as he puts weight on his left leg and feels sharp pain stab him, like a knife cutting his leg open from his knee to his ankle pierced deep enough to touch bone.
He bites his lip, tasting copper on his tongue and he strengthens his will. Looking around, Raymond finds that his small bag has been emptied of his sparse belongings. His notebook floats, drenched, in the cold wet water and his bag is thrown in a thorny bush.
Raymond sighs. Somehow, Ruck and the twins managed to bury the bag deep in the prickly bush. Raymond brushes his hand against the bush, testing the sharpness of the thorns and hisses as his fingers come back bloody. He closes his eyes and plunges his hand into the bundle of sharp sticks and harsh thorns, whining as they scrape and scratch his arm.
He yanks his arm back, his bag held tight in his hand. Raymond twists and turns his now tattered bag.
This won’t be holding anything now. He thinks to himself.
Limping to the river, Raymond grabs his notebook from the running water. The leather cover is ruined and the soggy pages can barely remain inside.
Raymond sucks his teeth. “Gods damn it.”
He curses the loss of the notebook. The drawings of animals he scribbled and the practiced sentences he scrawled in messy handwriting on the pages.
Raymond looks to the sky with hesitation. The sun is close to setting, darkness will nearly overtake the island and if Raymond wants to continue living he’ll need to make it to the healer quickly.
A large roar erupts from somewhere around the small boy. He swivels his head, looking for any movement from a dragon. Above his head a large dragon flies by and roars. Raymond flinches and quickly limps away.
The forest floor isn’t easy to walk with a fractured leg. Raymond trips and stumbles as he walks, unsteady on his feet. He keeps moving forward, eyes continuously scanning his surroundings. Moving slowly, injured, this early before nightfall will make him easy prey for any dragons or wild boars.
As he continues moving forward Raymond feels a heat develop on the back of his neck, a tingling sensation like he’s being watched. But when he looks around he can’t see any eyes peering from the dark shadows around him.
Raymond just needs to make it to the village. Once he’s in the safety of kin he’ll be able to make it to the healer.
It takes hours. Painful, slow hours of limping through the forest with paranoia rushing through his veins with every rustle of leaves, cawing bird, and snapping branch. When Raymond breaks through the edges of the forest and into the outskirts of the village he’s sweating heavily, panting as exhaustion weighs heavy on his limbs.
Maybe, he thinks, maybe I don’t need a healer. Maybe I can leave River alone.
Raymond knows he’s too tired to venture to the healers hut. The river which she resides by is too far away. But he doesn’t know who else could help him.
He leans against one of the houses, crouched in the shadows as he sniffles pathetically. He wipes at his eyes, trying to keep contained tears of pain as his wounds continue to throb and his leg still hurts.
“I'm so pathetic. .” He whispers
“Raymond?” A gruff voice says.
A large man holds a brightly lit lantern. It illuminates his face, shining in his blue eyes and against metal teeth. He reaches the lantern closer to reveal more of Raymond’s form from the shadows.
“E-Edgar??” Raymond stutters. “What a-are you doing h-here?”
“Looking for you! Where have you been? What happened to you?”
Edgar hobbles closer, bringing a hand out to tilt Raymond’s face to and fro.
“I-I I was in the w-woods.”
“This late? You know it’s dangerous Raymond!” Edgar fusses. He gently grabs Raymond and hulls him away.
“Let’s get ye to the forge and I’ll get ye looked over.”
Raymond leans his weight into Edgar’s side, easing the pain in his left leg. In the embrace of the large man, Raymond feels better. He feels warm despite the chilly air around them and weightless like a bird's feather.
At the forge, Edgar leads Raymond through the crowded rooms, away from the business front and into the storage area. He sits Raymond down on a chair covered in soft fur and places a stool in front of him.
“Prop yur injured leg up.” Edgar says. “What happened to ye?”
“I f-fell down a hill.” Raymond lies. “Into a river. It ruined my bag and book.”
Edgar signs and shakes his head. He takes Raymond’s tattered bag and soaked book before he turns to leave.
“‘M going to get River.” He says over his shoulder.
Left alone, Raymond comfortably rests his leg on the stool and looks around the room. The room is dimly lit, but in the shadows he can see corners full of wood, baskets full of metal, weapons and shields. Bolas are hanging from the ceiling and detailed diagrams for dragon traps are nailed to the wall.
On a table, in front of where Raymond sits, is an altar to a god. Raymond squints and tilts his head. In the middle of the table sits the god’s statue, resting on a pedestal with letters spelling their name.
“Ssssol.” Raymond speaks slowly, sounding out the letters like Edgar taught him.
Around the little figure are offerings; burnt food, diagrams for weapons, and burnt herbs. The smell that wafts from the altar is a mixture of coal, nutmeg, ginger, and fruit.
✨🐉✨
Edgar walks quickly through town, his path kept lit by his lantern. The sun just reached the horizon, Sol bleeding orange and red as he laid impaled on the moon gods blade. What little light there was provided by the bleeding sun and lit lantern lights the beaten dirt path and nearby wooden houses.
As Edgar travels further from the village, closer to the winding rivers, the beaten road disperses into green grass littered with stones.
He reached the hut, a well kept but small, little house. River prefers house visits instead of having people in her home. The lights are off, every candle that could’ve been lit blew out long ago.
Edgar reaches the door and starts banging on it.
“River!! Open up!” He yells. “Don’t leave your dear, little brother in the cold!”
The door opens quickly. River stands there tightly gripping her staff with a scowl on her face. She swings the stick, aiming for her brother's head but Edgar dodges it easily and rolls his eyes.
“Stop that!” He scolds. “Y’know I wouldn’t’ve bothered ya if it weren’t important. Raymond’s hurt.”
River frowns. ‘Let me get my things.’ She signs and disappears into the darkness of her hut. Edgar doesn’t wait outside. A dragon roars in the distance so he lets himself in and closes the door.
“I’ll help ya.” He says.
River accepts his help gracefully. She snatches the lantern from him to pile bottles, heavy jars, and rolls of cloth into his arms.
‘Where is he?’ River signs.
“Mah forgery. He’s in the back, the storage.”
✨🐉✨
River enters the back room with Edgar behind her. As she brushes the curtain aside she smiles at Raymond who returns the gesture tentatively.
“Sorry, River. Sorry, Edgar.”
“Ah, no need for that son.” Edgar sighs. “Not your fault yur hurt, is it?”
Raymond flinches and ducks his head. “I-I-it kinda is. . I tripped in the woods.”
Edgar places the bottles, jars, and cloth rolls onto a desk behind Raymond.
“Accidnets happen.” He says. “You’ll be more careful next time.”
Raymond doubts it. He is not sure he’ll ever be able to avoid a “next time”. The tapping of Rivers' staff on the ground distracts him from his thoughts. He sees her point her staff at his face. The boy tilts his head confused.
“Wha?”
“River needs to know where yur hurt.” Edgar explains. “So she can treat you.”
“Oh, right. Uhm. .” Raymond pulls his left pants leg up. “My a-ankle is h-h-hurt.”
River and Edgar frown at the weird angle his ankle is twisted.
“How’d that happen from falling?” Edgar asks.
“I-I-I fell down a hill.”
Edgar looks suspicious. Raymond feels bad for making him worry, but he knows the blacksmith will worry more about him being bullied. Honestly, for as long as Raymond has lived —nine, nearly ten seasons— the only adults who seem to care about him beyond passiveness are Edgar and River.
Raymond clears his throat and continues. “My f-face, obviously, and a-a-also my ribs.”
River analyzes the bruises on his face and the sound of his strangled breathing. The woman sighs and walks to the table behind Raymond.
The sounds of jars opening, herbs being poured into wrinkled hands and mixed into salves fills the room and becomes background noise. A scent wafts through the air, a mixture of tumeric, ginger, and willow bark.
Edgar mills around the forge. He enters the front room and then comes back with a cup of water, handing it to Raymond.
“Drink this.”
“Why?” Raymond asks.
“Ya soun’ like ya haven’t drank water all day.”
Because I haven’t. Raymond thought to himself.
He didn’t realize how thirsty he was until Edgar mentioned it. He quickly gulps the water and hands it back to the man. He smiles and places the cup down next to the altar.
“C-can I ask a q-question?” Raymond asks.
“Of course, Ray. You can ask me anything.”
“Who’s S-sol?”
Edgar smiles gently. He grabs a flint and steel, tucked away in a drawer under the altar, and lights the candles.
“Sol is the sun god. He is the god of fire and strength.” Edgar explains. “Perfect deity for a blacksmith, yeah?”
Raymond smiles and nods.
“Though,” Edgar grimaces at his ankle. “We’ll need to pray to Hev’na for ya leg.”
Raymond tilts his head. “Who is she?” He asks.
“She’s the goddess of health and medicine. Are ya interested in the gods, Raymond?”
The boy shrugs his shoulders. “A little. But I w-wouldn’t be able to r-r-read anything.”
His cheeks flush at the admission. Despite being 10 years old, he has never been taught how to read. His father never could, too busy with his work, and his mother is too busy with his brother and sister. Raymond is very grateful that Edgar has the patience to teach him how to read.
Edgar gently ruffles his hair. “You’ll get better at reading soon.” He says. “Until then, I’ll tell ya all the stories I know.”
Raymond smiles. He’d like that a lot.
River joins them, holding a bowl full of. . something. Raymond doesn’t really know what it is. She gently tugs up on Raymond’s shirt and with Edgar’s help they get it off of him.
River signs something to her brother, something Raymond can’t translate. Edgar nods along and then looks at Raymond.
“River wants me to make some tea.” He translates.
Raymond tilts his head. “Why?”
“It’ll make you feel better.”
As Edgar leaves the storage room, River begins to gently rub the concoction onto the bruised, inflamed areas to treat the swelling and bruising. Raymond hisses when the concoction burns his cuts or when she presses too hard and River frowns in apology. The older woman then gently strokes some onto his chest, treating the bruised ribs. Afterwards, she wraps bandages around his chest.
River carefully lifts Raymond’s ankle, cautious to not worsen the sprain. She rubs the concoction onto it and wraps the ankle with the same cloth and then places it down gently.
“I-is th-that all?” Raymond asks.
River shakes her head. ‘No.’
“Th-the tea, right?”
She nods affirmatively.
Raymond frowns. He can’t stay out any longer, he has to get home soon or else his mother will be angry. It’s especially bad because it’s going to get dark soon. If stays out too late he could be snatched by a dragon.
“I’m back!” Edgar pulls the curtains aside and hobbles in with a steaming mug. “Wit some nice, warm tea to numb ya pain.”
River and Raymond smile.
“Th-thank you.” He says.
Edgar carefully gives it to Raymond. “Careful now, it’s hot.”
The young boy blows gently on the surface of the tea, gentle ripples breaking the surface. The liquid is a murky brown color and Raymond frowns as he smells bitter willow bark.
He takes a tentative sip, cringing at the taste and lowers the cup.
“Can I g-go h-h-home after?” Raymond asks.
Edgar looks to River who looks to the floor in thought. She brings her hands up and signs something to her brother.
“Yes ya can. Only if ya stay off that leg. Too much unnecessary walking can make it worse.”
Raymond nods frantically. “I-I’ll stay off of it.”
“And, the two of us will come by.” Edgar adds. “Gotta make sure yur healing properly.”
Raymond nods. He’ll have to remember to tell his mother and father.
Again, he gently blows on the tea, cooling the surface and takes a tentative sip. It’s bitter. He can’t stand it. With his scrunched face he lifts his head and opens his mouth to protest but River glares at him and he shuts his mouth.
The three of them stay in the storage room. Raymond listens as Edgar and River talk. Well, Edgar talks, River makes gestures with her hands and Raymond follows along as best he can.
Edgar is a good story teller. He tells Raymond stories about Sol and Hev’na. Sol has a sister, Los. Once upon a time, very long ago, the two siblings fought over who could rule the sky. It was a long, violent battle that lasted decades, killing thousands and tearing the sky apart.
“And that’s why we have day n’ night.” Edgar explains.
Raymond stares unblinking, eyes shining with amazement.
“That’s i-in-incredible.” He whispers.
River softly taps her staff twice on the ground and points to the door.
Edgar sighs and stands with effort as his joints crack. “Time to go, son.”
Raymond pouts. He doesn’t want to go home, he wants to stay with Edgar, to listen to more stories.
“Don’t pout, son.” Edgar ruffles the boy's hair. “Y’know we hafta get ya home.”
“Yeah. I do.”
Together, River and Edgar accompany Raymond home. By the time they exit the forge the sun has set and the moon rises in the horizon. The whole village is painted in a shadowy blue and cold winds pass by them.
“We hafta be careful now.” Edgar informs. He lights the path ahead with a lantern, the warm light a beacon in the darkness.
“No knowing where a dragon might come from, n’ the ground is covered in ice.”
Raymond whimpers at the mention of dragons. He scoots closer to Edgar who holds Raymond’s hand in his. River walks behind Raymond, lit lantern hanging from her staff.
The group walks far from the center of town, the glorified shopping center that surrounds a well. From the middle of town, climbing the snowy hills of the village, they walk houses as they slowly reach the largest hill. Sat atop the large hill is the chief's house.
“Should I knock?” Edgar asks.
Raymond shakes his head. “N-n-no. Th-they’re p-probably asleep r-r-right now.”
He drops Edgar’s hand and goes to the door. He grabs the handle and prepares to open the door to his cold lonely house but decides to turn around instead.
“Good night.” He says. “I h-hope to see you t-t-tomorrow, Edgar.”
River and Edgar smile. The older man ruffles Raymond’s hair.
“You too, son.” He whispers. “After all, this old man needs his assistant.”
Raymond gives them one final smile and enters his house.
Inside, the fireplace is lit.
Strange. Raymond thinks. The fire is never lit this late.
He listens for movement, some sort of activity happening somewhere in the dimly lit house as he considers possible reasons why the fire would still be lit.
In his parents room he hears his mother talking. Raymond walks closer to the door, putting his head on the wood to hear better.
“I can’t believe you! Coming home late drunk. Again!” Raymond hears his mother speak in a hushed voice. There doesn’t seem to be much movement on the other side of the door.
Looking through a crack in the door, the young boy sees his mother standing over a passed out father.
That makes sense. Raymond knows his mother would never speak to his father like that lest she wants to experience his ire.
The older woman stops complaining, her frustrations completely air out and tucked away until the next night her husband comes home inebriated. Raymond quickly walks away from the door, footsteps light, and sits down near the fireplace to feign normalcy.
The door swings open and closes behind Prudence softly.
“Raymond!” She exclaims in shock. “When did you get home?”
“H-h-hello m-mother. I got home just n-now.”
Prudence sighs and shakes her head. “Where have you been? You missed dinner.”
“I-I was in the w-woods.”
Raymond’s mother shakes her head again. “You really expect me to believe that? When your face is beaten up?”
Raymond flinches.
“What happened, Raymond?”
The young boy sniffs. With his sleeve he wipes his face, tears wetting the fur. Prudence sits down next to her son and wraps an arm around him.
“Oh, Raymond. What would your father say if he saw you crying?” She mutters.
Raymond gasps, holding his breath to compose himself. “He’d be upset.”
“And why would he be upset?”
“Because boys d-don’t cry.”
Prudence smiles. “Exactly.” she hums. “Tell me what happened, Raymond.”
“It was R-Ruck and the t-twins.” Raymond confesses.
“You were playing with your friends again?”
The young boy's breath stutters. He turns a betrayed look upon his mother.
“N-no! They b-b-beat me up.”
Prudence sighs. “Poor boy.” She patronizes. “You’re just too weak to play with the others. It’s alright.”
Raymond resigns himself with a sigh. “Y-you’re right, m-mother.”
“Now, it’s late. You run upstairs and go to bed.”
Raymond leaves his mother’s side. He approaches the bottom step and turns to see his mother putting out the fire.
“Mother.” He prompts.
“Yes?”
“C-could y-you t-teach me how to r-r-read?” He asks.
He’s learning already. After helping Edgar in the forge the black smith teaches him how to read. But Raymond knows the learning to read should be done with a parent, something that Edgar wasn’t shy enough to say, something he’s seen when his mother pulls his younger brother or sister into her lap and they read together as she points at the words on the page. Raymond wants that. He desires it. Being on the receiving end of his mothers attention.
There’s not a sound to be heard in the dark room except for their shared breathing. Raymond feels a bead of sweat as tension rises and he remains unacknowledged.
“Raymond.” Prudence sighs. “You can barely speak. How could I ever teach you how to read?”
Raymond’s eyes burn with shame as he swallows around a lump in his throat. He turns away without a word, climbing the steps to the second floor.
Raymond’s bedroom isn’t on the second floor, however, but rather it’s tucked away in the attic. He opens the latch, dropping the ladder to the ground and climbs into the dark room. Raymond changes into his bed clothes and goes to sleep.