Her voice quavered. “There is food in there. Some eggs and bread. A flask of milk. You eat, hear me.”

“Yes, mum,” was all he could get out and they embraced to save each other from their own selfish tears. She seemed so little.

Over her shoulder, Padric saw his father. Waiting, awkward and strong. Padric felt embarrassed, but he did not let his mother go. He would wait for her to be ready. She deserved that. At last, her arms relaxed slightly, but she hooked her hand in his arm and stood by him, wiping her tears with her free hand while his father approached. Padric set his jaw and swallowed hard.

“Take this.” his father said, handing over a sizable coil of thick rope. “Many things can be solved if you have good rope.” And then he held out his hand. Padric clasped it and could not help but smile as his thin fingers and narrow palms were enveloped by the strong grip of his father’s large hand.

Sun is already down. Late leaving. Rosheen sat on the roof of the house and watched as Padric shouldered his pack and began walking away from his parents. Three times. He will stop and wave three times. She sniggered when he turned and raised his arm for the fourth time. Padric’s father had turned and headed off behind the house to tend the goats at the second wave. His mother stood for all of them. She continued to stand there watching once he disappeared into the woodlands.

“Take care of one another,” she said, without turning.

“We will,” Rosheen told her and flew off after him.

T WO

TWO

“…no business, behind a wretched plow. Swing a sword, push a plow, oh it is all the same! Phfaw! Follow some dumb beast across a field when you have no more sense than the animal! Have the same horns, might as well have the same brain! Which is to say none at all! Why listen to me, though? Oh no, would never think to do that! What for? Stubborn fool! Have to be noble and bull headed, help wherever there is need. People need to fend for themselves, only way they will learn. Go around pulling them out of trouble and look what happens! By my oath, if I can get him to…Damn you, Bulge-Eye! Stop crushing the flowers!”

Deglan pitched a clod of dirt at the great toad, which fell quite short. Bulge-Eye did not so much as twitch. Other than the constant swelling and deflating of his throat sack and the occasional blink, he had not moved for hours. And he was nowhere near the flowers. Deglan continued to glare at him for a moment, but it was impossible to win a staring contest with a toad. Deglan sat back on his heels with a frustrated blow from the nostrils and returned to the plant in front of him.