Brynn: Chapter 3

Brynn wasn’t hearing this. Was Rylan playing a joke? If so, it wasn’t very funny.

“I’m sorry to spring it on you all of a sudden,” Rylan was saying. Brynn started paying attention again. When Rylan said he wanted to discuss something with him, Brynn was always eager to listen to his older brother. He was flattered by the idea that Rylan would even ask him about things, but this was definitely taking it too far.

“You’re not serious, right? I mean, you are joking, aren’t you?” Brynn finally asked. His brother’s reputation as a practical joker caused him to be wary when Rylan was talking about anything as serious and ridiculous as this. But no, he could see it in Rylan’s eyes, he was telling the truth. Rylan laughed.

“Ah, little brother, you forget that I am older than you! Do you think it so impossible?” he questioned.

“No, of course not, I just …” His voice trailed off. “I was not expecting it so soon.” Rylan’s face became serious again.

“You don’t mind, do you, old chap?” he asked earnestly.

Suddenly it was all clear to Brynn how much this meant to his brother. He forced his happiest smile and answered, “Of course not. I wish you all the best. I think I’d better skin that rabbit before I forget about it.”

Before his brother could reply Brynn was out the door into the dusky evening. The sun had not quite set; it was casting gray shadows over the forest floor. Outside, Brynn tried to clear his mind. Rylan was getting married? It had been obvious to Brynn that Rylan would get around to it someday. But he hadn’t expected it so soon.

He absentmindedly began to skin the rabbit. He and Rylan were hunters; they hunted all day and sometimes into the night, then sold the pelts and meat in the nearby village of Taurah. For almost three years they had lived and worked together in their cabin. It was a quiet life; they didn’t have many neighbors and only went to the village once or twice a week. It hadn’t always been that way, though.

Brynn and Rylan had lived with their parents and sister in Taurah most of their lives. However, the year Brynn turned sixteen, his uncle had come to visit them. He remembered the day clearly. Uncle Nevin had come and spoken to his father for a long time. Father had worn that thoughtful look all through supper that night. And after Brynn’s sister, Alva, had gone to bed, Uncle Nevin had explained it all to their mother and the boys. Uncle Nevin was a merchant, and he wanted Father to become his business partner. He was no good at accounting, he said, he must have Father’s help. It was a good job, but it meant leaving Taurah and the forest. It was Rylan who had spoken up.

“It sounds like a good place for you, Father,” he had said. “But not for me. I should like to stay here near Taurah. I can earn my living as a hunter and live in the forest,” he said, warming to the idea. His parents weren’t surprised. Rylan had always been mature, but willful. At eighteen, he was old enough to start making his own decisions.

Brynn, loathing the idea of leaving his older brother behind, begged to stay too. His mother and father had been hesitant to let him. But Rylan had taken up the cause and argued that Brynn could help him and they could live together. After some halfhearted protests, his parents agreed to let Brynn stay too. After all, they had grown up here and loved the forest like their sons. It didn’t seem fair to pluck them away from the freedom the forest provided and set them down in the city.

But now, Brynn thought gloomily, I shall have to go to the city after all. Rylan was going to marry Maura and settle down. She was a nice sort of girl, Brynn allowed, but that didn’t make it any easier to leave. The cabin belonged to Rylan, as the eldest son. There was no question in Brynn’s mind; he would have to go. He sighed at the mere thought of the city. The boys had been to visit their family only once in the past three years. Brynn had been disgusted with the poverty as soon as he had entered walked through the gates. It was too close and cramped for Brynn. He liked to be out in the woods and he treasured solitude. That was why their arrangement had been so perfect, he realized. They spent most of the day out in the woods, hunting. Usually they went off by themselves and then returned to the cabin as the sun was setting. Rylan’s company and the trips to town provided enough companionship to suit him, Brynn thought. And now it all had to change. He was uncomfortable just thinking of the city. He tried to focus on the rabbit, but his mind wandered.

I’ll probably have to find a job of some sort; the city is no place for a hunter, he thought crossly. Why did life have to change? He knew the thought was childish. Of course life changes! Pull yourself together and take it like a man, Brynn told himself. He was sick of thinking about it. Abruptly, he put the rabbit down and began cleaning his tools. With his work completed, Brynn returned to the cabin. The sun was nearly gone, only an orange sliver was visible through the trees. His brother was writing in a book at the table when Brynn pushed the door open. Rylan opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it and stopped. Brynn didn’t look up, pretending not to notice. He wasn’t quite sure he could meet Rylan’s eyes without revealing his resentment. He carefully restrung his bow and prepared his things for the next day. Rylan hummed quietly, still writing. Brynn picked up his mandolin and moodily plucked out a melancholy tune, sitting in the doorway. Rylan remained oblivious to his brother’s attitude.

“Guess I’ll be turning in,” he commented cheerfully, closing his book. Brynn didn’t answer. He was brooding over his problems. For a brief second, the image of a pouting child flashed through his mind. He stood up suddenly, shaking off his dismal thoughts. It was time to get some rest. He would worry about things later on.

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Brynn groaned the next morning as sunlight poured into the cabin. He stretched sleepily, blinking. Rylan was sitting on the bed across the room, pulling on his boots.

“Good morning, little brother! Sleep well?” he asked. He was rarely this cheerful in the morning. The fact that he was even awake was startling. Brynn cocked an eyebrow at him, skeptically.

“You feel alright? Since when do you not need to be dragged out of bed?” he asked. Rylan just laughed.

“Hungry? I cooked some ham.” Rylan seemed very proud of himself. Brynn laughed at him.

“Good for you. I’m sure Maura will be very glad to know she’s marrying a man who can cook ham. I know that’s a very important skill to have. Still, I’ll have to taste it before you are off the hook for cooking lessons,” he said, with mock seriousness. Rylan threw a pillow at him and went to get his ham.

All the gloomy thoughts of the previous night were behind Brynn. It was a new day, things looked hopeful. Perhaps the city wouldn’t be so bad after all - he might even come to like living there. He whistled as he gathered his equipment. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the forest looked lovely and green. It was going to be a good day, Brynn decided. Rylan handed him a plate of ham. Brynn took a bite.

“How delightful! This is the most sumptuous, most savory, most delicious ham I have ever tasted! How marvelously you have cooked it!” he said dramatically. Rylan chose to ignore him.

“What are you going after today?” he asked. Brynn shrugged noncommittally.

“Whatever I can get. Seems there’s been a shortage of deer lately. Oh, I’ll be taking those pelts and that brace of rabbits into town this afternoon. Anything you need me to get for you?”

“No, nothing you can get, but you could take my boots to the cobbler’s and have them repaired,” Rylan replied. Brynn nodded, finishing his breakfast. He took up his bow and quiver and tucked his knife into his belt. He placed another knife in his right boot, then headed out the door, waving to Rylan.

Brynn headed off into the woods, in no particular direction. After a bit, he came to a small clearing and settled down in the bushes to wait. He easily blended into the scenery in his green tunic and brown pants. His ice blue eyes were alert, watching and waiting. He was ready to stay in the same position for the next half an hour if need be. It was one of the first things he had learned when he started hunting. Self-control and patience were essential. He had been watching for only a few minutes when a doe entered the clearing, followed by twin fawns. Brynn crouched, motionless and enraptured. The doe began to eat, keeping one eye on her young as they scampered about, playfully. Brynn knew he was having a weak moment. He remembered when he was younger, how he had shot a mother like this one. The fawn had whimpered pitifully when his mother fell, then run off, terrified, when Brynn had collected his kill.

Since then, he had had trouble killing animals with young. He had repeatedly told himself to toughen up, that it was the way of life. But he still often let them go, when he had the choice. He made a loud movement as he reached for his bow. The trio ran off, startled. Brynn smiled, pleased with himself. He still had plenty of time to catch something before midday.

Brynn returned to the cabin with a fox and a wild turkey at midday. Gray clouds were starting to pile up, but he was preoccupied with getting the rabbits to take to town. He put them in a rough sack, and then the pelts in another, with Rylan’s worn boots on top. It was a lot to carry, but he was strong and he was accustomed to physical labor. Then he set off down the old road leading to Taurah.

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Half an hour later, Brynn was flicking wet hair out of his face. He was wading through the mud that the road had dissolved into, trying to see through the sheets of rain pouring down around him. The storm had come up suddenly, one moment he was walking through a refreshing mist, the next he was floundering through torrents of water. He had neglected to wear his cloak; as a result his clothes were drenched. He was nearly to the village; there he would be able to seek shelter somewhere. Anywhere, he thought, to get out of this mess.

He finally made it to the butcher shop. The butcher was a large, red-faced man named Dutch. He wiped his hands on a messy apron when Brynn entered his shop.

“Well, well, ye showed up with them rabbits, eh? How many?” he asked, his voice resounding like a drum. Brynn dropped his sack on the counter.

“Five. That’s twenty silver coins,” Brynn reminded him. Dutch took the sack, opened it, and examined the contents. He muttered to himself while Brynn waited patiently. A little puddle was collecting around his feet from the rain. Dutch finally gave a satisfied grunt.

“The bargain is acceptable,” he assented, sliding a pouch of coins across the counter to Brynn. Brynn opened the pouch to check the money - you could never be too sure. He counted it silently.

“Reckon you’ll be movin’ around, now that Rylan’s getting married an’ all,” the butcher commented. Brynn looked up at him.

“Yes, I will be going to Ketsya soon. But Rylan will still bring you his game, I’m sure.”

“Well, good. I hope ye find the city air to yer liking. Never was one for city folks, myself, but then, everyone’s different! So long then,” Dutch called, as Brynn left. As a matter of fact, I’m not one for city folks either, Brynn said to himself, wryly. His next stop was the cobbler’s. Aron took the boots from him gently.

“Let’s see now, the heel’s worn through, needs a patch here …” the soft-spoken man was talking half to himself, half to Brynn. “This’ll only take a minute,” he informed Brynn. “Here, sit down by the fire. Wet day to be out walking, isn’t it?” he inquired. Brynn took the offered seat.

“Believe me, it was not my choice.” Aron nodded, busily getting out his needle and thread. He was a small man, quiet, but friendly.

“How’s Rylan doing? I heard he and Maura are engaged. Happy news, happy news. Good to see the young folks settling down,” he said. “Where are you going to go, Brynn? You know, there’s a house for rent here in Taurah.”

“I thought I’d go to Ketsya, where my family is. I really don’t think I could afford the rent, anyway.”

“Ah, Ketsya, the great city. Marvelous place. The shops line the streets, selling silks and satins of every color. And the smells! Spices fill the air, and the smell of roasting hatter-nuts! And there are grand folks in fine clothes, riding on great horses! They live in palaces with embroidered curtains and eat off of gold dishes. Ah yes, Ketsya is a fabulous place. You’ll be happy there, Brynn,” Aron finished. Brynn had seldom seen the cobbler so enthusiastic.

“Yes, but I will also see the people who have no money for fine clothes. The beggars who have no homes and no food, the little children with nothing to eat,” he replied, cynically. Aron didn’t quite know what to make of Brynn’s comments. Surely no one could be sad about living in such a grand place? He handed Brynn the boots, neatly mended. Brynn gave him a couple of coins.

“Farewell, Aron. Perhaps we will meet again before I depart,” he said. Aron nodded, still speechless.

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The wedding was over. Rylan and Maura were married and Brynn was leaving. It was mid-afternoon; there was still plenty of time before the sun set. His pack upon his shoulders, Brynn quietly collected the rest of his things. Rylan and Maura were still celebrating with their friends; the little cabin was empty. Brynn laid a note to Rylan on the table; he felt obliged to say goodbye somehow, since he was leaving unexpectedly. He took one last look around at the familiar place, then closed the door gently. Still wrapped up in his thoughts, he walked swiftly through the forest. He had reached the road. He stood there for a moment looking at the signs. One way led back to Taurah, the other, to Ketsya. Not looking back, Brynn strode quickly down the road toward Ketsya.