Gallopen (Part 1)

The sun was setting gingerly on the horizon, leaving a purple sheen on the meadow. A lone snake-wasp was lazily making its way over the creek running through the center. Hints of lilac and honeysuckle wafted lightly from a small natural flowerbed recently sprung up by a twisting creek. The creek was filled with many tiny sinue fish chasing each other around. Small accents could be heard from the clear water as it passed over the moss-covered stones. Very close by, under the only tree in the area, a lone figure lay sprawled out on the tall grass, hands behind his head. He had been very still for the past few hours. One might have even believed him to be sleeping, but closer inspection would find his eyes wide open and full of wonder.

Vough was staring at the clouds passing overhead. He couldn’t help making each one out to be a different hero or battle his grandmother had told him about in stories. His blue eyes reflected back the remaining blue of the sky that the setting sun hadn’t overtaken with purple. He had a mess of brown shoulder length hair, which for the most part fell straight down from his scalp, and today it created a strange halo on the grass above his head. He was concentrating heavily on one particular cloud overhead now. He saw it as Klingu, a mighty sailor whom tracked down the beast Farknor and slain the beast when it had taken Klingu’s only child.

Vough had heard many stories from his grandmother, usually as he sat cross-legged by the hearth while she would make some awful concoction in her cauldron. The townsfolk generally regarded her as a witch, but she would always dismiss this and tell Vough, “People try to place names on things they don’t understand. They feel that by naming something, it loses power. If only they knew, in giving a name alone, they actually give it power.” She was a wise old lady.

He knew it would be time to head back home soon. As soon as the sun touched the horizon he would need to be back home. One wouldn’t want to be caught out in the open plains in the dark alone. Everyone knew the stories about the Feld, a catlike race of beings that preyed on the unsuspecting. Vough’s own father had run in with them when he was young and managed to escape with scars down his side and months of physical recovery.

He picked up his knapsack and padded down the trail that lead back to his family cottage. In his mind he was on a great adventure to the Harrows Land well beyond the Graphite Forest, only rarely would a bard or random traveler come from this part of the world, but the fables they told would leave stars gleaming in the eyes of all the young in the village. In his imagination he would meet other warriors and slay mighty creatures to assure the safety of people all around him.

He was pulled out of his daydream by his grandmother’s call, she was yelling from the window, her head extended out just enough to be seen down the road. He picked up his pace and sprinted for the door. He imagined the Feld were now chasing him and the only safe haven his family stoop. Upon landing there all reality took its proper place around him and he went inside for supper.

-V-