Chapter 16: Scarecrow
(Kai's POV)
It had been seventeen days since Father left.
I counted without meaning to. At first, every morning I woke with the thought sharp in my head, like a pebble stuck in my shoe. One day. Three days. A week. Each number felt heavier than the last. Somewhere along the way, the worry didn't disappear, but it softened, settling into the background of everything I did. Like the ache you forget about until you stop moving.
Father had gone to deliver a horse to a noble. That was what he said. He had done it before, traveling farther than Southreach, staying longer than he promised. But this time was different. He hadn't returned quickly. No letter. No messenger. Just absence.
I still worried. I just didn't stop living because of it.
That morning, the sun slipped through the shutters in pale lines, brushing the walls and the floor like careful fingers. I sat up on my bed and listened after i ate breakfast and washed my body. The house sounded the same as always. The soft clatter of Mother moving downstairs. The faint creak of the beams. Anya humming to herself in her room, already awake.
That helped more than anything.
I dressed quickly and knocked on Anya's door. It was already half open.
"Anya," I said, trying not to sound impatient. "Faster. We're going to be late."
"I'm coming," she replied, her voice muffled. I heard things being shoved into her bag, the scrape of a chair, then a small thump as something fell to the floor. "I'm ready. I think."
She burst out a moment later, hair half brushed, bag crooked on her shoulder, eyes bright like she'd already lived a whole morning before leaving her room.
"All good and ready," she announced proudly.
I sighed, but I smiled.
We went downstairs together. Mother stood near the table, folding a cloth with careful hands. She looked up as we approached, her expression softening the moment she saw us.
"Mom, we're going to school now," I said.
She nodded, stepping closer to straighten Anya's bag and smooth her hair where it stuck up. Her touch lingered just a little longer than usual.
"Okay," she said softly. "Take care on the way to school."
There was more she didn't say. We all felt it. But she didn't let it spill into her voice.
Outside, Meadowfen town greeted us with its usual calm. The houses were spaced wide, gardens still damp with morning dew. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, and the road was already marked with footprints from early risers. At the edge of the village stood the wooden sign, its paint faded but well kept.
Meadowfen.
It felt steady, that name. Like the ground beneath our feet.
At the entrance of the village, our friends were waiting.
Lior stood slightly apart, book already open, lips moving faintly as he read. Tomas was hopping from one foot to the other, miming a sword thrust with an invisible blade. Mila sat on a low stone, carefully braiding a loose strand of her hair. Coren leaned against the fence, humming and watching the clouds drift overhead.
"You're late," Tomas said immediately, pointing at us like an accusing knight.
"We're not," Anya shot back. "You're just early."
"That's what a prepared warrior does," Tomas declared.
Lior didn't look up. "Technically, we're exactly on time. School doesn't begin for another twelve minutes."
"See," Coren said cheerfully. "Plenty of time to walk slowly and enjoy the morning."
We set off together, the road widening as it led away from Meadowfen. The school stood between Meadowfen and Goldfield, right at the border where the two towns met. It served children from both places, and even a few from farther farms scattered across the plains.
Southreach loomed in my thoughts as we walked. The fortified city stood beyond us far away from us, its walls was slithly visible on clear days. Meadowfen and Goldfield lay outside those walls, along with three other towns that depended on Southreach for protection, trade, and law. Inside the walls, the city was thriving with people, tightly clustered, shielded by stone and soldiers.
Lior talked about that sometimes. About how everything fit together. How nothing in the South was placed by accident.
Tomas, of course, preferred talking about knights.
"I heard my brother's unit might get new armor," he said, puffing his chest. "Real steel, not patched plates."
"That's dangerous," Mila said gently. "New armor usually means new fighting."
"It means honor," Tomas replied. "And glory."
"It also means expense," Lior added without looking up. "And resource strain."
Tomas groaned. "Why do you ruin everything?"
"I'm not ruining it," Lior said calmly. "I'm explaining it."
Anya skipped ahead, spinning once before walking backward to face us. "I don't care about armor. Did you know scarecrows can have faces?"
Coren laughed. "Everything can have a face if you try hard enough."
By the time we reached the school, the sun was higher, the chatter louder. Lessons passed smoothly. Writing, counting, history. I listened, took notes, answered when called. My thoughts drifted now and then, always circling back to Father, but I pulled them back each time.
When the bell rang, Tomas was the first to jump up.
"Come to my house," he said eagerly. "After class. My mom's making scarecrows for the field. We can help."
"Help," Lior repeated skeptically.
"Or make our own," Tomas added quickly.
Anya's eyes lit up. "With clothes?"
"And straw," Tomas said.
"And faces!" Anya said firmly.
Mila smiled. "Your mother won't mind?"
"She won't," Tomas said. "She likes company."
We went together after class, laughter spilling ahead of us like breadcrumbs. Tomas's house sat near the fields, open and welcoming. His mother, Elira Halwick, was already outside, sleeves rolled up, straw piled neatly beside her.
She looked up, surprised, then smiled warmly. "Oh. You brought your friends?."
Tomas beamed. "We're helping."
Elira laughed softly. "Then I suppose I should feed you."
The house, usually quiet, filled with noise. Anya circled the scarecrow in awe. Lior immediately began explaining structural balance. Mila and Coren debated whether it needed arms.
Elira moved quickly, setting sweet potatoes to boil, hands practiced and sure. Tomas's father was still in the fields. His older brother was away at the garrison.
When she returned with the food, steam curling into the air, we fell silent. The sweet potatoes were hot, soft, dipped in sugar. I barely realized I was eating until my plate was empty.
We built our own scarecrow after, clumsy and uneven, while Elira finished four with ease. We laughed, argued, corrected each other. The sun dipped lower without us noticing.
When we finally left, our bellies full and hands sticky, we thanked Elira, waving as we walked back toward each other's home.
The road home felt lighter.
I didn't forget Father.
But for a while, the world felt whole.
(End of kai's Pov)