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Cyrus yawned as he trekked along the narrow, winding path next to the Ruqisp Valley, as it was called. The past day and a half had been filled with walking and sleeping, walking and sleeping, it seemed. His exhaustion seemed to continue no matter how well he slept, and he guessed it was partially from the never ending scenery. It always looked the same.

Sometime later, towards noon, he heard a dull roar that quickly escalated above the noise of the Ruqisp. Cyrus smiled. That meant he was very close. That roar was the sound of the Ruqisp Waterfall, which fell into Vlantor Lake, which in turn, flowed out into the Vlantor Valley, once again called the Ruqisp.

Around the time when he neared the cliff that marked the beginning of the valley, he hear the sounds of two men shouting, or fighting maybe. Frowning, he made his way through the underbrush in an attempt to perhaps glimpse the source.

Suddenly, he found himself on the fringes of a clearing that overflowed into the Vlantor Valley. Sure enough, two men stood there shouting at each other. Cyrus crouched behind a line of bushes that he hoped hid him from sight. The men, from the brief view he had of them were complete strangers. Both wore black cloaks with hoods pulled down over their faces, and they seemed to be chittering to each other, like birds. Cyrus frowned again, but held his voice. Some words he understood, however. What he heard made him shiver.

"Did you...that...several nightsss ago?" one said. Shivering, Cyrus noted that the voice sounded like a snake's, if snakes could talk, and reminded him of mold and mildew and other things better left unsaid.

"Yesss...possibly...you think...was the egg?" The other bobbed its head as it spoke, leaving Cyrus with the odd feeling that they were some kind of bird, which was irrational, considering their shape and size.

"Perhapsss...boy...took... Do you...maybe...took..." The chittering slowly faded out of audible range, and when Cyrus glanced over the top of the bush, he saw the two creatures striding into the forest--thankfully in the opposite direction he needed to go.

Unsettled, he made his way back to the Ruqisp, where there was a cliff. The only way down was a narrow path leading down into the valley. Cyrus carefully planted one foot in front of the other, testing the footing before putting all of his weight on it. He gasped as he slipped on a loose rock, one foot hanging off of the edge. Managing to regain his balance, he placed his foot back on the ledge and continued his descent.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he hopped off of the path after what had seemed like hours. The roar of the waterfall pounding into the lake dominated his hearing, and as he set off on his journey back to his village, Penrith Village, he smiled at the midafternoon sky. Everything felt right in the world, with mountains in front and behind, plains to the left, and the forest to the right.

Sometime late in the afternoon, bordering on evening, Penrith came into sight, and just before twilight, he arrived at the gates. The 'gates' are really just some logs stacked onto each other around the side of the road. He grinned and murmured to himself, "Home sweet home...well, almost."

He looked up at the stars that shone like quicksilver on the canvas of the night sky. A yellow one in particular caught his attention on this night, for it reminded him of the way the stone had appeared to him. The lanterns hung on pegs outside of houses shone with soft light, illuminating the road ahead. Cyrus watched as, one by one, the lanterns passed out of his range of view as he walked along the road to the butcher's shop.

Stepping up onto the porch, he popped open the latch and swung the door open. "Liam?"

The butcher stuck his head out of the back room. "How can I--oh, it's you. Well? How much did the mighty hunter bag this time?"

Cyrus frowned. The butcher was naturally mean to him most of the time, but today he seemed a little worse than usual. He got a little angry, but buried it beneath politeness. "None."

"And I assume that's why you're here?" Liam asked.

"Yes," Cyrus answered curtly, patience having run out. He was on a short fuse right now; all he really wanted was to go home and sleep.

"Did you bring money?"

"No," Cyrus responded, "But I have something that might be worth enough." And with a great flourish, he pulled out the stone and set it on the counter.

Liam examined it with a buyer's eye. "Do you know how much it's worth?" Cyrus shook his head, silently cursing himself for not finding that out beforehand. Liam was going to give him a bad deal just because he hated him. "Then I say it's worth around five crowns."

"What!?" Cyrus exclaimed. "That's a miser's bargain! I can barely buy a week's worth of meat for that!" "It's either take my deal, or get out," Liam said, giving Cyrus a death stare.

Cyrus frowned. Liam was always a tough dealer, but there was no reason for him to be so rude or harsh. He was just about to take the deal when Aburn, the village blacksmith, slammed open the door, Liam's daughter, Milena, trailing.

"What's all this ruckus about?" The blacksmith said in his gravelly voice.

Liam immediately pointed an accusing finger at Cyrus. "This...boy...came in here and started badgering me. I told him to get out and he still won't leave and--"

"No!" Cyrus cut in.

Liam tried to start talking again, but Aburn held up a finger, stopping him. "I want to hear his side of the story," he said, jerking his head in Cyrus's direction.

Cyrus nodded to him. "Thank you. I came in here to buy meat, and Liam started giving me a hard time about not catching anything. I asked for some meat and offered this stone--" he gestured at the stone, "--as payment. He gave me a deal of five crowns, and I complained. Then I decided to take it, and that's when you came in."

Aburn nodded. "Continue, then. I'm not sure why I came, but I guess I'll stay. I need some meat too anyways."

The butcher swept up the stone. "Fine." He started toward the back room, then stopped and, seemingly out of curiosity, asked, "Where did you find this?"

"The Blynryf's, but--"

"Out! Get out!" Liam shouted, throwing the stone at him. "I won't have anything to do with you!"

Cyrus caught the stone and held it close to his body, as if to protect it from the butcher's wrath. "Why? First you're all fine and accept my offer, and then I say I found it in the Blynryf's and you refuse to even deal with me!"

Liam grabbed a knife. "I said out!"

Aburn stepped between the two. "Stop!"

The knife was set back on the table. "Why should I deal with you?"

"Because I have money," the blacksmith said, and dropped thirty crowns on the counter between them. That would be enough for several months, if not the whole winter.

For several seconds, Liam examined the coins. However, he did not insult Aburn by biting them. "How much?"

"Enough to fill this young man's pack." The butcher hesitated. "Not dealing with me would be a bad idea." Cursing, Liam hurried into the back room, where the sounds of chopping, banging, and the continual string of curses echoed back to them.

A minute later, the bag of venison was dropped onto the counter. "There's your meat. Now get out and scram! I don't want to see you any time within the next week!"

Cyrus frowned as he, Milena and the blacksmith strode out. "Thanks for the help, Aburn." He shrugged. "I don't know what got into Liam. He isn't usually friendly with us, but today he just seemed ready to blow. Why?"

Aburn took a minute to respond. "That's something you need to ask your uncle Barlow about."

Cyrus nodded once. "I thought you would say something like that."

The blacksmith laughed, his deep voice echoing off of the walls. "Oh-ho-ho, that's funny. 'I thought he would say something like that'!" He became very serious very fast then. "But, Cyrus? I wouldn't go back there anytime soon."

"Okay," Cyrus nodded. "That would be a good idea." He remembered something suddenly. "Milena, can I talk to you?"

"Oh?" Milena asked, not expecting the request.

"I have a message," he explained, embarrassed.

"Oh, okay," she agreed. Cyrus led her into an alleyway off the side of the street.

"It's from Antonin," he began, unsure of where to start. "He wants to say that...that you are the most beautiful woman in the world."

"Is that all?" she asked, seeming somewhat flustered.

"No, he also wants to ask if you'll be here when the traders come."

"I will be."

"Then he says to meet him in the third alleyway on the second street." Cyrus scuffed his boot in the dry soil, wishing he didn't have to be there.

"Okay," she said, "tell him I'll be there as well."

"I will," Cyrus said. "Goodbye!"

"Goodbye!" Milena agreed as she fled to her house, having heard Liam shout for her.

Slowly, Cyrus strode out of the alley, deep in thought as he returned to Aburn. "You know," he said, "Uncle won't be very happy that I had to accept charity."

Aburn laughed again, quieter. "It isn't charity." He winked at Cyrus. "Joseph is leaving in the spring to be an apprentice to a blacksmith in Maplecrest, the city on the southernmost reach of the valley. You know of it?" Cyrus nodded. "Well, there'll be an opening for you at the forge. You can pay off your debt then."

Cyrus beamed. "Thank you!" Aburn had two sons, and to take the place of one was a great honor. Joseph, of course, was one, and the other was named Rackham. "I can't wait to work with you!" he called back over his shoulder as he waved to the blacksmith. Aburn waved back and turned to go to his own house.

Cyrus made his way out of Penrith the way he had come. That was the only problem of his uncle's house being where it was. If he was coming out of the Blynryf's and needed to go to town for something, he had to walk past the house to the village, then back the way he had come, nearly a league back.

He smiled as he spotted a dim, warm glow coming from a cabin off to the left, inside the cover of the hanging boughs of the trees. He turned off onto a small path with just enough room for a small wagon and stepped onto the front porch. He knocked on the door and said, "Uncle, it's me. Let me in."

A shutter built into the front of the door rattled open, then shut quickly. Half a second later, there were a few clicks, and the door swung open on silent hinges. "Welcome home, Cyrus," his uncle said warmly.

"Hey, Uncle Barlow." Cyrus grunted as he let his pack fall to the ground. The stone inside landed with a thump.

"Did you bag any?" Barlow asked. Cyrus shook his head. "How much did you buy?"

Cyrus gestured tiredly at his pack. "Enough to fill that, with a stone inside. Probably enough for the entire winter, if we ration it out correctly."

"How did you afford all of that?!" Barrow exclaimed quietly. "There is no way you managed to get that much!"

"Aburn paid for it--" Cyrus began.

"You know we don't accept charity!" his uncle yelled quietly.

"It wasn't charity!" Cyrus shot back. "I agreed to work for him--Joseph is leaving for the spring, and he needed someone to fill in. I agreed to take his place."

"And what about the plant? How are you going to work that out?"

"I don't know," Cyrus said, irritated. "I just will." He swayed in place. "It's good to be home."

Barlow placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's good to have you home. But wait! How was the weather?"

"It didn't snow, but it froze each night."

Barlow gnawed at his lower lip, a habit he had developed when he was thinking. "That means we'll have to get the corn and beans harvested quickly. If we could get the potatoes done by the end of the week, too, that would be excellent."

Cyrus nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight."

Cyrus picked up his bag and trudged up the stairs. He crept past Antonin's door, for he was asleep, and entered his own room, shutting the door quietly behind him. He carefully set the bag down and examined his sparsely furnished room. There really wasn't much--a bed, a dresser, and a set of shelves that held objects that fascinated him. Among their number was a stone polished so it shone, a stick curved into the shape of a bowtie, and a tree root so convoluted he never tired of looking at it. The new stone went beside them, and the now-empty pack, emptied earlier by Barlow, next to the dresser. He put his unstrung bow into the quiver with his arrows and leaned the quiver against the dresser as well.

He undressed and climbed into bed. He fell asleep quickly, and he slept with the confidence of one who was safe in his room for the first time in days.