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2025-11-08 06:11:44
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Foundling 24 Leave Taking (1)
Hunter and Tete sat on a sparse patch of grass speckled with pebbles and red dirt. The freshness of unspoiled air and the heat from the sun soothed his bruised body, and the wide-open spaces, the measure of earth, and the honking geese flying in formation livened his spirit. Strewn beside a tawny-hued boulder the color of the foothills were the clothes Hunter had discarded.Hunter leaned into Tete’s furred side munching a deliciously succulent, slickly red plum pilfered on his way through the town. It was his third. He ate the plum to its core, and what he could not eat, he gave back to the earth by digging a small, shallow hole in the hard, clayey soil and placed stem and seed into it. He watered the mound with the piss from his own body, following the forms as his mother had taught them to him. Tete licked at his paws, cleaning flecks of flesh from his claws and blood from between fur and pads.Hunter pulled his face into a broad yawn and threw his arms high. He stretched shoulders
Foundling 23 Family (2)
Memories, long held at bay of home began to invade his thoughts. The long, flat farmlands he worked with his father and brothers that Becka and her husband, Jarrod, now managed; getting up early, just before dawn, lighting the lamps as they readied themselves for the days work. He wondered how much the farm had changed since his departure. Becka was very ambitious and she had married a man who followed her ambitions. Their only limits on their goals were the people they could get to farm the land. Carl, with no even a year separating them in age. Their fight down at the river when he had nearly drowned because of a punch from Carl that had lain him unconscious beneath the rushing current. Unresisting, the current had taken him and with only Carl there to pull him to safety and preserve his life. After that, they had never raised a hand in anger against the other. They were good memories, true memories. He hoped and liked to believe that there was not too much distance between the boy
Foundling 23 Family (1)
“He is a fine mystery, your ward.”“And he will remain that way.”“Your ward or a mystery?”“Both.”“I understand the ward part, but why do you say he will remain a mystery?”“Because I do not think he even knows who, or what, he is.”They sat in a large, open sitting room sipping tea surrounded by brightly colored paintings.“This is a new blend. I have never tasted its like before,” Poe said setting his cup down on the round pedestal table at which they sat.“It’s the sassafras and mint. The honey makes it sweet without overpowering the other flavors.“I had the coach aired and provisioned. Martin and Tom will see you to the School.”“There was no need,” Poe said.“It’s for the boy. He needs it. A leisurely bit of travel will aid in his recovery and get you there much the quicker.”“I had already made other arrangements.’ “Change them.”“Yes, auntie Maeve,” Poe told her, smiling.She relaxed her stern visage and flirted with a smile. “You relinquished the right to call m
Foundling 22 Town (3)
She had no children of her own, but had had a hand in the rearing of many a child to adulthood, nursing their ailments and their ills in that span, and was now having a hand in the rearing of their children, but there was something about this strange, slight youth (his slight build that could do with a few good, hearty meals) that brought out all her protective instincts. Maybe it was his large, dark puppy-dog eyes, his long, dark matted locs that she wanted to smooth.She wanted to reach out and hug him. She did not think Hunter had had many of those recently. He was starved for affection, a shoulder to cry on and let the tears flow like rain to wash away the layers of reserve built up over time to guard against further heartache.Unable to resist she reached out and caressed one of those long hanging locs draped across his shoulders. Her action startled him. “For the brief time you are here in my home, if there is anything I can help you with, or anything that you want to talk to me
Foundling 22 Town (2)
Hunter tried again to sit up. Successful in moving his feet to the edge of the bed, he paused to catch what little breath he could before shifting his weight forward to slide over the edge of the bed and land on unsteady legs. The floor was cold to the touch, and he was surprised that he noticed it. Pausing again, he was eventually able to take his hand from the bed and stand. He moved to the recess through which light flowed and sat on the wide, deep sill.Wrapping himself in the overhang of the thick russet-colored, velvet drapes, he gazed out a window made up of small, circular glass panes—some opaque, some clear—fitted into lead webbing to make a honeycomb pattern. Through that prism was revealed an intersection of cobbled streets bordered by rows of steep roofed buildings with gabbled windows. People moved hurriedly by on the sidewalks and the street was filled with all manner of strange carts and carriages. So lost Hunter became in the bustle of activity, the wonders on display,
Foundling 22 (1) Town
Bottom End began as a simple way station for the constant flow of settlers having scrimped and saved whatever they could to make the journey to the New Land. Over the succeeding years and decades, with the extension and expansion of the road to the emerging settlements and farms and ranches, had come the drovers and merchants. The station became an Inn, and the Inn became another, and another, and another, and then a blacksmith’s, an apothecary’s, a butcher’s, a cooper’s, a brewer’s, a miller’s, a tailor’s, a mason’s, a carpenter’s, a chandler’s, a tanner’s, and all the other innumerable trades and crafts and vices needed to support a town and, then, a city sprawled along the base of the mountain and ending at the river on one end and the plains on another.In a room in an Inn situated in a prosperous section of the city, Hunter awoke to the smell of woodsmoke linseed oil. Light flowed into the room from a set of windows on the far wall and an alcove behind the bed on which he lay. A
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