Chapter 6: Family

At dusk, as the sun melted into the horizon like molten gold, Mark was roused by the soft rustle of footsteps in the yard—no doubt, Will Thompson had just finished another grueling day in the fields. His memories of his father were sparse, like faint echoes from another lifetime. Will was a man of few words, a quiet, stoic presence in the household—hardly the vibrant, larger-than-life figure that Mary Thompson's recollections once evoked. Yet, even in his silence, there was a subtle dignity; Will belonged to the class of villagers who had managed to gain even a modest education—a fact that perhaps explained why Mark had inherited his name. He vaguely remembered that, as a child, Will had urged him to emulate a soldier: to aim high and one day serve his country.

Mark's two older sisters bore no extravagant biblical names like Hephzibah or Abigail. They were simply known as Alice and Anna Thompson. And in a twist of fate that bordered on the surreal, it seemed that in this bewildering new reality, Mark's own name remained unchanged—a small, reassuring anchor in a sea of transformation.

"Dinner's ready, Mack!" Mary Thompson's voice rang out from the yard, a call that carried both warmth and a hint of urgency.

Mark rubbed the sleep from his eyes and rose, feeling an unfamiliar stirring within him. Having been solitary for so long, he now found himself oddly unaccustomed to the bustling life of family—a life that, despite its hardships, he knew he could not simply abandon. In this world, he was no longer a solitary wanderer; he was the nucleus around which his family orbited.

"Hey, bro, are you feeling any better?"

Isabelle Thompson, the youngest, abandoned the stone and stick she'd been idly tossing by the wall, her voice soft and tentative.

Mark managed a nod and a somewhat stiff smile as he lifted the chipped ceramic bowl from his hand. "I'm all right now. Go wash up and join us for dinner—I even saved you an egg."

"Egg?!"

Instantly, Isabelle's eyes sparkled with delight, and she scampered off to wash her hands.

Later, gathered around the long, worn table in the fading light of the yard, Mary shot Mark a reproachful glance. She'd clearly caught his earlier remarks, yet remembering the incident at lunch—when she'd administered a couple of firm slaps to Isabelle—she chose not to press further.

"Mom, may I have my egg?"

Isabelle pleaded, her wide, hopeful eyes brimming with childlike anticipation. She knew that only her mother's permission could settle the matter.

"You get what your brother gives you," Mary chided, her tone firm yet not unkind. "Stop asking for more."

"Yay! Egg!"

Isabelle's slender arms shot out eagerly to grab the egg, and as she bit into it without even peeling the shell—cracking it on the table until the fragments crunched between her teeth—Mark couldn't help but be momentarily taken aback by her unrefined delight.

Realizing he was overreacting, Mark stifled his thoughts and took a measured sip from his bowl. The meal, a thick porridge that had become their daily sustenance since mid-last year, was now slightly denser—a small comfort amid the pervasive scarcity. Mornings and afternoons brought only meager dry rations, supplemented by wild greens painstakingly foraged by Anna and Isabelle, their only source of vitamins in a harsh, unyielding environment.

This dire reality ignited a resolve within him. He had long pondered the injustice of their situation—this was not a life fit for dignity.

"On my way back from the fields today, I spoke with Joe," Will remarked as he wiped his mouth, his meal disappearing in mere sips, leaving Mark to struggle with his own sparse portion.

"Your old man said that if you don't return to school, we'll set you up with some light work once conditions improve. It won't pay much, but it should help you get by next year," Will added in a low, deliberate tone.

Mark listened, feeling the weight of the coming hardships settle in his chest. After a long, reflective pause, he cleared his throat and offered his own plan.

"Mom, don't worry. I have a friend—his uncle is a factory owner in the county. We're close, and he mentioned that if I can't continue my schooling, his uncle might be able to find me some odd jobs."

Without pausing for a response, Mark continued, "Whether it pans out or not, I'll head into town tomorrow to see for myself. A day or two won't make a difference, right, Mom?"

For a moment, Mary and Will exchanged astonished glances, their expressions a blend of hope and concern.

"Mack, is what you're saying true?" Mary finally asked, her voice trembling with cautious optimism.

For a lifetime steeped in the soil, the prospect of city work was as alien as another planet. In their world, survival meant digging for food in the dirt.

"Of course it is!" Mark replied, striving for a casual tone. "Many of my classmates from the county have families with steady jobs. Finding some odd jobs shouldn't be too difficult. It's not as hard as it sounds."

Mary's eyes brightened with pride as she glanced over at Will. "Our Mack really is something—if he can secure work in town, everyone will have to take notice. There aren't many like him around here."

After a moment's thought, Will cautioned gravely, "Just be careful, son. Don't let anyone take advantage of you."

"I don't have much cash on me, so there's nothing to steal," Mark replied with a hopeful smile. "You'll hear good news from me tomorrow!"

Satisfied for now, Will nodded, picked up his pipe, and stepped out, leaving Mary to engage with Mark a while longer before she disappeared into the humble, mud-and-straw kitchen.

Left alone for a moment, Mark's gaze drifted to Isabelle, who was contentedly sipping her drink. He reached over to tousle her unruly hair—rough, unkempt strands that reminded him of their simple, yet resilient life.

"What's up, bro?" Isabelle inquired, her voice imbued with innocent curiosity.

"Nothing at all," Mark answered softly. "I couldn't finish my bowl, so you take it. Just don't let Mom see."

"Eh?"

Surprised yet delighted, Isabelle peeked into the kitchen and quickly nodded, "Okay! I'll finish it fast, then we can swap bowls!"

In that tender moment, amid the sparse meal and the humble surroundings, Mark felt an overwhelming sense of warmth and duty. The steady presence of his family—Mother Mary's resigned kindness, Father Will's somber concern, and Isabelle's bright, unguarded enthusiasm—filled him with both comfort and an acute awareness of his responsibilities. Even though, in his former life, eggs were trivial, here they were a rare luxury, a treat that many in the village might not savor for an entire month.

Mark understood all too well the deep-seated longing for sustenance that shone in his mother's eyes. For a brief moment, he yearned to use his secret abilities to summon a bounty of provisions and lavish her with everything she craved. But that treasure—this mysterious farm and its miraculous resources—was his alone to guard. Revealing its existence would expose him to a world that cared only for survival, condemning him to isolation as an outcast.

One thing was irrevocably clear: the farm must remain hidden—a secret advantage he could exploit without consequence. Should its existence ever leak out, those who learned of it would be met with a single, unyielding judgment: death.

As the conversation ebbed away, Mark's thoughts turned to the uncertain future. Despite the daunting challenges that lay ahead—droughts, economic hardship, and a relentless struggle for survival—he resolved to change their fate. He had a plan, bolstered by the promise from a classmate whose uncle owned a factory in town, and he was determined to seize any opportunity, even if it meant stepping beyond the familiar fields for a day or two.

"Don't worry, Mom," Mark reassured them quietly. "I'll head into town tomorrow. I'll see what I can do. It's just a day or two of work—I'm sure it'll work out."

Mary and Will exchanged glances, their expressions mingling hope with apprehension. Finally, Mary asked in a soft, trembling tone, "Mack, is what you're saying really true?"

Drawing on reserves of confidence he scarcely felt, Mark replied, "Absolutely. Most of my classmates in the county have steady jobs. Finding a few odd jobs shouldn't be too hard."

Mary's face lit up with pride as she looked toward Will. "Our Mack really is something else. If he can secure work in town, everyone will have to respect him—there aren't many like him in our village."

Will, after a long pause, warned gravely, "Just be careful, son. Don't let anyone fool you."

"I don't have much money anyway, so there's nothing to steal," Mark said, his smile a mix of relief and determination. "Just wait until tomorrow—I'll bring back good news."

Satisfied for the moment, Will nodded and departed with his pipe in hand. Mary lingered a while longer, her gentle concern etched on her face, before retreating into the small, makeshift kitchen constructed from mud and straw.

Left alone in the fading light, Mark's thoughts drifted to Isabelle, who was happily sipping her drink. He reached out and tousled her hair again, the rough texture of her unruly locks a stark reminder of their humble beginnings.

"What's wrong, bro?" Isabelle asked, noticing the contemplative look in his eyes.

"Nothing at all," Mark replied softly. "I couldn't finish my bowl, so you can have it. Just don't let Mom see."

"Ah?"

Isabelle blinked in surprise, then, glancing quickly toward the kitchen, she nodded with youthful enthusiasm, "Okay! I'll drink it all fast, and then we can swap bowls!"

In that quiet, fragile moment, as the family gathered for their sparse meal of porridge and eggs, Mark felt an ineffable warmth mingled with a heavy sense of duty. The simple rhythms of farm life—the murmur of voices, the clink of bowls, even the soft crunch of an egg's shell—wove together into a tapestry of hope amid hardship. Though the future promised further trials, and though the coming years might be filled with relentless struggle, Mark's resolve was steeled by the love and responsibility that bound him to his family. He vowed, silently and firmly, that he would carve out a better life for them all, no matter the cost.