1.6

            Excusing himself after only eating a small portion of the soup they all had for dinner, Heron went to his room to pack a travel bag. He lingered over some of his things, spinning tops and other simple toys he’d had for a long time but hardly looked at anymore, and little gifts from friends and relatives that were nice but unnecessary. It all reminded him of the years he’d spent growing up here, never imagining that he’d ever belonged anywhere else. He also had a small collection of wooden figures he and his friends had all awkwardly carved last summer; each boy had carved several and traded with each other for their favorites. Those would have to stay behind as well. He decided to pack a spare pair of boots and his sturdiest pants and shirts for working in, plus an extra set of lighter-weight clothes that could roll up smaller and take up less space. He would wear his best boots and hat with some of his more comfortable clothes, and take a good jacket with him that his mother had made for him last winter. He also packed a sweater and long wool underpants, since it occurred to him that he might still be gone when winter came. He would bring the hunting knife his father had given him for his last birthday; it would fit in the top of his boot and didn’t need to take up space in his travel bag... but into the bag went an extra utility knife and a sling that he hadn’t practiced with in a while since he hadn’t been very good and snares had just been a more reliable way of getting rabbits around here anyway. Last, he added a flint and whetstone in a little tin box, plus a needle and thread his mother had always told him to take with him when he was away from home. He could fix a simple tear and sew a button on, but never could do it so that it looked at all like his mother could sew. Whenever he’d fixed something on his own, his mother had ended up fixing it better later on, so he only had to stitch things together in a very temporary way.
 

            Heron paused for a bit, thinking his mother would likely either re-pack his bag for him, or just add more things she thought he would need. Mother. It was strange to think she wasn’t his real mother. And his father, and... He realized his vision was getting a little blurry in a watery way, and he blinked a few times. Should it really bother him that much?

             Sadie came into the room, pausing to knock lightly for a moment before entering. “Heron-” She held out a small bowl of chopped fresh fruit with cream on top of it. Heron had forgotten that he’d bought some at the market that day, that his mother had planned on for a dessert.

             Heron took the bowl from his sister’s hand and set it on a low shelf. He hugged Sadie tight, not able to really say anything yet.

             After a moment, Sadie quietly said: “Even if you’re not my real brother... you really are my brother anyway. You’ll always be my brother, because of how good a brother you’ve been to me. Even though you tease me.” And with that, Sadie pulled back from the hug and pretended to punch Heron’s arm in mock payback.

             “I tease you?” Heron pretended to be disbelieving as he blocked Sadie’s punches. “You’re the one who is always teasing!”

             “I learned it from my brother!” Sadie declared, sticking out her tongue and laughing. She aimed a fake kick at Heron’s shin, and grinned when he jumped back a pace. “If you don’t want your dessert, I’ll eat it for you.” she said.

             “No, I’ll eat it.” Heron said, then reached for a small bag instead. “I know Uncle Rupert says MarshDuck feathers are best for arrows, but I thought these would be good for practice.” He opened the bag enough to show Sadie the chicken feathers he had collected. “Have him teach you to make arrows so you can show me when I get back, okay?”

             Sadie nodded and took the bag Heron held out to her. “And I’ll practice lots so I can have something to be better at than you!” And with an impish grin, she darted off to put the bag of feathers in her room.

             Heron ate his dessert, and then left his packed bag sitting on his bed, while he snuck out into the fading light of the setting sun, to run down the road to the home of his friend Carter.