The morning air blew a bitterly cold kiss as the sun crept above the powerful Fernish trees; its warmth and glow spilled through the bare branches of the dormant woods and weaved an intricate pattern of shadows across the somber forest floor. It continued its ascent and bathed a small cottage, nestled within the wooded outskirts, in its welcoming radiance. As the light fell upon the old rustic cottage, a soft beam slowly entered through a half-frozen window and landed on the face of a young man.
The young man groaned. He slowly released himself from the warm embrace of his blanket and sat up on the edge of his fern wood bed; flinching slightly as his feet touched the cold wooden floor. He sluggishly stood up and he tilted his neck to one side before walking towards his handmade wardrobe, almost tripping over the boots he had left out the night prior. As he opened the doors to his wardrobe; the young man spotted the carving he had engraved onto the inside of the door some years ago "Wilfred's Warmdrob".
A small smile crept onto Wilfred's face
"what an idiot" he spoke to himself as he retrieved his clothing, a pair of worn out work trousers and a jacket, one size too big, with the initials 'KG' stitched into the shoulder.
"These cuffs will be the death of me" Wilfred instinctively muttered to himself, as he fumbled around with the endings of his sleeves in front of his mirror.
His eyes wandered to his scar, he traced the old memory from the contour of his jaw to the corner of his mouth; he looked up and his gaze met his own, he looked away.
The young man picked up his boots and placed his free hand on his door handle; Wilfred let out a deep breath and shot a somber look towards his unmade bed
"I'll be back soon, my sugarmuffin" he whispered to himself. Bracing as he slowly began to open his door. Every creak echoed within the confined corridors of his home "I pray to Albanus that Father is already awake" he spoke, completely giving up on his silent approach as he swung his door wide open.
The cold corridor creaked after every step Wilfred took.
"There's no sneaking up on anyone in this place" he thought to himself as he entered the front-room. The soft orange glow radiating from the fireplace seemed to soak the quaint room in unperturbed peace.
Wilfred's eyes softened at the sight of his grandfather in front of the fire, "he's in his usual place then" he thought before walking over and kneeling by his grandfather's side.
"Morning, grandad, did you sleep well?" Wilfred softly spoke, putting on a faint smile… only to be met with silence. "I see you're in your favourite seat again. Do you remember when we built it? Back when you used to wear a younger man's clothes, and you had a head full of hair!" Wilfred slightly teased… only to be met with silence again as his grandfather's ice blue eyes remained entranced by the dancing flame. Wilfred noticed this and slowly stood up, "I'm off to work now, grandad, it's New Year's Eve tonight, the big 1200, and Mr. Castillo ordered a lot of wood for the bonfires, too much if you ask me. Your son has me overworked I tell you." Spoke Wilfred before adding another log to the fire.
"It's also my birthday tomorrow, I'll be turning 18! I know it's selfish but I like to think the celebrations tonight are also for me." He looks back towards his grandfather "don't bother getting me anything, you just staying warm is enough for me." Before gently kissing his grandfather on the head as he heads for the door.
Wilfred sits down just before the front door, putting his boots on and grabbing an axe from a wicker basket just to the left of the door, tracing his finger over the engraved "Godwine" on the handle of the axe. The young man slowly stands up and prepares himself for the bitter cold waiting to freeze him outside… "alright alright 3… 2.. 1…" and he leaves what little warmth the cottage gave him.
"Not as much snow as I thought" Wilfred spoke to himself whilst walking towards the chopping block, feeling the snow crunch beneath his flaking boots.
"I don't know why Father wanted me to start chopping the wood at this time, I guess do it now so we don't have to worry about it later? If the old man really believed that he'd…"
Wilfred stopped walking and tightly pinched the bridge of his nose upon seeing what waiting for him upon his arrival, it quickly became clear to the young man why he had to begin so early; two colossal fernish logs lay next to the chopping block, dwarfing it in size.
"Albanus, burn me your flame of determination" Wilfred spoke to himself "they've got to be at least 50 odd feet long! Each!"
Before a familiar gruff voice rang out from behind the logs.
"6 feet thick too!" As a tall and imposing man who is gruff as his own voice walked into view "the bleemin' tree was well over 100 foot, said the man as he slapped one of the logs, "I cut it in two, easier to carry." Spoken through a wide grin.
"You're expecting me to chop both of these logs, Father?" Replied Wilfred with a hint of indignation "No, I ain't" replied Father "come 'ere, boy, we got us one more tree we 'ave to cut."
Wilfred begrudgingly followed his father into the deep Fernish woods, sometimes trying to match his father's height by walking on the tips of his toes "any plans for tonight, Father?" Inquired Wilfred, trying to add some life to the trek into the forest.
"Aye", quickly responded father as his grin began to widen, "I'll be partying like Muirne 'erself will be there!"
"Which one is she again?" Wilfred thought to himself "I'll ask Briar when I see him, if I remember that is."
Eventually Father halted his march.
"Aye 'ere we are" he said, as the pair stood in the shadow of a powerful Fernish tree.
"Eh… near enough the size of the last one, you feelin' up to having a go, boy?"
"You mad!?" Wilfred shouted in his mind, "S-sure" he said sheepishly before pointing at his father's axe "can I use that?"
Father playfully puts himself between his axe and his son "not for as long as I live."
Wilfred shakes his head as he forms a small smile, "so how do you want me to do this?" The young man asks as he ponders towards the wooden behemoth "the way you taught me or-" "whatever way you need, son" as Father cuts him off.
Wilfred slowly brandishes his own axe, his fingers sliding in between the small bumps of the Fernish wooden handle.
The young man lowers his stance; a thick wave of silence drowns the heartbeats of the forest as he feels as his own heart begin to beat with renewed vigour, he firmly grips the axe as he deeply inhales the frosty morning air.
Wilfred tenses his shoulder as he slashes through the space between himself and the great tree; he hears a faint whistle as the blade cuts across the cold.
He waits for but a moment before a vociferous bang erupts from the Fernish giant. It splits from the right as it begins to haemorrhage bark and sap; the gouge spreads to the centre of the log before suddenly stopping.
"Aye" as Father walks over and runs his hand over the freshly opened wound "not very considerate, aren't yeh, boy. Leaving 'er 'alfway like this" as he examines the cut "very rough too, but not too bad… if yeh' twist me arm."
"It'd be enough for the trees on the outer edges " replied Wilfred, through broken breaths.
"Feels like we're going a tad overboard, we've used the smaller trees for the new year bonfires for as long as I can remember, so whats with the change now?"
"I don't know" replied Father who was readying his own axe "maybe Regúlo Castillo is overcompensatin'." He said with a sly smile "always been a showboat, that man". Said father before priming his axe; his posture never waned as he swung his axe with grace.
Wilfred watched as he thinks to himself "I swung my axe faster, more power too. So why-" the young man leaves that thought unfinished as he watches the tree serenely slice without so much as a sound.
As the once powerful Fernish tree begins to fall, Wilfred notices that it also begins to split perfectly at the centre above, just like the trees father obtained earlier.
"but how?" He questions himself "i didn't even see him make the second cut… never mind, I've should've gotten used to it now." The logs fall perfectly with a loud crash to the side.
"Aye boy, do yer thing" said Father as he turned around to look at Wilfred, the young man nodded his head as he walked over to the spot of earth where the Fernish behemoth once towered. He softly dug his hand into the soil and focused, after a moment a sapling began to sprout from the dirt. It began to grow with haste, the warping of the wood echoed through the forest as the leaves bloomed.
Wilfred stood up, the sapling just as tall as him now "that's as much as I can do today." Father nodded his head "saved us about 5 years of waiting I'd say" as he paced over to the freshly cut logs, he positioned himself between the two and paused.
"What does it feel like?"
Wilfred stood there rather puzzled "sorry?" He soon replied.
"The growing thing yknow?" Quickly responded father.
"Oh uh right… well." The young man rubbed the back of his head "it feels like an exchange, I guess, I give the plants something and they grow. What that 'something' is beyond me and I don't really get anything in return that I know of. Rather just a feeling."
Father walks to the end of the log and digs a hook into the bark "what kind of feelin'?" He shouts across to Wilfred who was already walking towards him.
"That everything will work out in the end" the young man sombrely replies, finally standing next to his father who had just fastened a rope to the hook.
"Bit of a weird feelin' but comfortin' nonetheless" Father says before handing him the rope "yeh take this one back. I'll drag the other one." As he repeats the process on the other log. Wilfred nodded.
"Bleemin' hell son!" Said father "when I was yer' age I was haulin' three of these! On me own!"
Wilfred clutched his chest, feeling the air escape his lungs as he sat down on the chopping block
"yeah… yeah Father. Uphill was it?"
A wide grin appeared on Father's face "bothways!"
Wilfred tried to chuckle as he winces whilst trying to look past the corpse of the fallen Fernish giant and towards the path they'd just painstakingly traveled.
"Father? I promised I'd pay Graeme and Briar a visit by noon"
Father suddenly spins to look at the sun before shaking his head one side to another.
"We'd have more time if you didn't lead us so far-" Wilfred says before being interrupted
"where you meetin' 'em to" abruptly inquired Father, still watching the sun
"Just at Mr Meyrick's shop in the town centre" replied Wilfred.
"Like I don't know where that is… you can go only if you do somethin' for yer old man whilst yer there" Father replied, breaking his gaze from the sun and motioning towards the cottage.
"Go to me room and grab the bill for this lot, when you're about to leave that is, and deliver it to Régulo Castillo. Make sure he agrees to pay soon; he's slimy but doesn't go back on somethin' once he agrees."
"Will do" the young man replied. He brought his hands up to his mouth, his reddened fingers rubbed against his cracked lips as he let out a gentle blow of warm air into his hands.
"Easy enough" Wilfred thinks to himself.
The front door wined and the aged floorboards of the perennial cottage whimpered soft creaks as Wilfred returned home; the young man retired his boots for a moment and rested the worn equipment by the door.
"Takes an age to walk to Fernham" Wilfred muttered to himself, fumbling with his cuffs as he enters the front-room "I'll probably get this 'bill' and go…"
A somber silence takes hold of the quaint room; the faint flickers of the fading flame within the fireplace gently reverb across the room.
Wilfred walks towards the fireplace and stops at his grandfather's side; he stared at the old man's blank, cold eyes.
"He's asleep, never fails to creep me out a little when he does that. Wonder if I do that too?" Wilfred thinks to himself as he tends to the small flame, finding himself lost in its dancing embers.
"I'd be lying if I said I prefer the new Grandad, but I wonder what Father thinks of him now. After all, he's been his son a lot longer than I have been his grandson. I mean I'd ask Father but… well, making a joke is easier than opening up I guess."