Homecoming
"#32: If you name a pet after the man you love, he will love you back unconditionally."
— Griselda Ravene, 1001 Superstitions for a Woman in Love"
The morning sun emerged, and Ein and his father wasted no time, skirting through the woods as quickly as they could with their weighty packs. Ein's vision was sharper, so he led the way, scouting for their marked landmarks and discrepancies. Alend followed, cleaning, removing the scraps of cloth and nail they'd wedged into trees to mark the path. It was slow, but they were no longer underfed, poorly rested, or hindered by the need to tread lightly.
As midday arrived, Ein's pack grew heavier until it felt like a great boulder on Ein's back. Later his father took on part of his load, letting Ein massage some blood back into his shoulders.
They moved until it was too dark to see and then slept. They didn't eat as much on the second night, nor did they talk, and Ein's sleep was much better than before. Physical exertion was a fine cure for insomnia.
Finally, they broke out of the woods and onto the snowy outcrop overlooking the valley. Alend dropped his pack, signaling for a rest. Ein brought his waterskin to his lips and drank deeply.
The Sleeping Twins stood tall and proud against the horizon, two white-capped peaks marking the start of a mountain chain. There was a lake just past the sprawling mass of trees below them, which a river slithered away from, and beside that river—nestled right between the Twins—was the village of Felhaven. Ein knew it well, all of its tidy buildings with snow-covered roofs, well-worn dirt paths that snaked in and out, and its central village square. Smoke rose in sleepy wisps as dawn's first light crept along the valley.
Felhaven was an old village, steeped in a history nearly as rich as Faengard itself. He remembered old Garax telling the story when Ein had been but a child, sitting around the fireplace with all the children. He spoke of a pair of talented sorcerers, the titular twins who travelled far and wide in search of a place to settle down. They stumbled across a small plot of land nestled between a lake, a forest, and a chain of mountains—a natural fortress isolated from the rest of the world, an oasis that was difficult to reach from the outside and easily overlooked by unfamiliar eyes.
They founded Felhaven, and when the twins died, two great mountains rose from their corpses to seal off the last remaining path to the village. The valley was named in their honor.
"I wonder if they've started making preparations for Founder's Eve yet," Alend muttered.
Ein squinted into the distance. "I think so," he said. He could make out the beginnings of food stalls in the village square and a line of lanterns that had been pre-emptively tied between a few of the rooftops. "How many days left again?"
"Two. We should be back with a day or so to spare."
With all the excitement and danger of the hunt, Founder's Eve had slipped Ein's mind completely. The festival had been long awaited, an flicker of peace in a cold, dark time. The villagers didn't celebrate often, but when they did, they celebrated like kings. Word had it that Mayor Walmsley had hired the Children of the Wind, the most famous group of troupers in all Faengard, to perform for the day.
They said the Children would bring along a sorcerer, a rarity given the tumultuous times.
"It feels like a complete waste of time," Ein grumbled. "It's money that could be spent on food and furs instead."
"You sound like a sellsword," Alend said. "Money and food aren't the only things you need to get through tough times. Morale can be just as important."
"I suppose. Though, having a full stomach and a heavy purse definitely lifts the spirits."
Alend grunted. "Have any of the village girls spoken to you yet?"
Ein tilted his head. "About what?"
"It's your birthday, Ein."
The blood immediately rushed to his face. This year's festival would mark the third year of the Great Winter, and the conclusion of his boyhood. Ein was sixteen, a fully fledged man, and this Founder's Eve would be his first as an adult. Certain things were expected of men from Felhaven—particularly unmarried ones.
"They haven't," he said, pressing snow into his flask. Alend's gaze stayed on him.
"Anyone in mind?"
"Do I really have to be married?" Ein asked, tucking the flask away. He took his time tightening the straps. "I don't feel like I'm ready yet."
His father scoffed. "Trust me, boy. No one feels like they're ready to grow up. It's just the way the world works. Be thankful your mother and I didn't pick someone for you, though if you remain indecisive for too long we might have to."
"It just feels so sudden—"
Alend raised an eyebrow. Ein looked away uncomfortably, staring at the treetops below. The village had more than its share of unmarried girls, but they were girls he had known his whole life, whom he'd grown up alongside—the idea of wedding one was uncomfortable. It would be like marrying Cinnamin, and last he checked, siblings did not marry, not in Felhaven at least.
"Can't I wait a while longer?" he asked. "It's not like anyone will be leaving."
"No one will be leaving," Alend agreed. "But time doesn't wait for anyone. In a few weeks, the other boys will come of age, and you can rest assured they'll snatch away all the good ones come next Eve. I'm sure a lot of the girls will be hoping you pick them." He scratched at his beard. "In hindsight, I should have just arranged for you and Evaine to be wed back when I could."
"Surely not? Why Evaine of all people?" Ein couldn't see her in that way no matter how hard he tried.
"Your mother would cuff you over the head for saying that," Alend chuckled. "Evaine is good friends with Cinnamin. Her father's farm is the biggest in all Felhaven. She's one of the prettiest girls in the village, and she's strong and healthy."
Ein sighed. Alend was right: if he were to pick any person from the village to wed, it would be her—for practical reasons, if anything else. He would have to make an effort to befriend any other girl, and there was always the chance that they wouldn't get along. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to be relieved or not that Evaine was already betrothed.
"Just remember," Alend said. "If you stay in Felhaven, you'll have to marry eventually. The early bird gets the worm. You don't have a lot of time to decide." He slapped Ein on the back and shouldered his pack, signaling the end of their break.
Ein nodded, took one last drink of water and strapped on his own belongings.
"Go and enjoy Founder's Eve," Alend continued. "Enjoy your first Dance, and have a good think about your future."
Ein didn't respond. He'd been looking forward to their return, but now he wasn't so sure.
They left the edge of the outcrop and began making their way down to the valley, one hand against the cliff face, the other on the ground, moving steadily. The rocks were half-frozen and as slippery as ice, and there were several times Ein almost slid to his demise. The sky grew brighter and slightly less grey as the day progressed. From the bottom, it was just a single flat stretch through the woods and farmland before they were home.
They reached the base of the valley in two hours' time and found their way onto one of the many hunting trails that streamed through the woods. Snow fell for a while and then stopped. The Felhaveners had only taken to hunting about a year ago, but the wildlife population had taken a drastic plunge. A few years ago, it wasn't uncommon to see flocks of songbirds dancing through the trees, herds of deer grazing in the meadows, and schools of fish swimming through the ponds. Now, only pigeons and snow finches flitted across trees. Most of the deer were either dead or had migrated as more than half of the bodies of water were frozen solid.