The first three months in The Town of Brifena had passed and summer would continue for at least two more months, leading into autumn which still gave woodcutter Billford and his small assistant plenty of time to work in the forest before winter would come and stay for a little while. The shortest season in Agathen. Northern Agathen had a colder peak at the highest part on the map, along the side of Tempe Deur, but people there were accustomed to such conditions. In the five Land’s in all of Frahan, Agathen was the longest, which made it the second warmest Land out of all as well as the second coldest. On the Western side and Southern part of Agathen began The Great Ocean of Guruld, and a little lower only a hint to the south, was the smallest Land of Naévy. A small island below Agathen and Berull. Despite its petite size, they were important farmers of the most valuable brands of beans such as coffee and soy. Because of their humid and warm environment, their grounds were greatly appreciated by the other Land’s, since goods as such could not grow anywhere else as profitably as there, making the Naévian’s a rich, understandably proud nation.

  Beside Agathen stood Berull on the Eastern side, the second largest Land in Frahan. Their most important products being silk from the silkworm farms of Hertha, sugar, and jewelry due to their highly respected gold mines of Muruak— making them the richest Land as of today. Berull was not as tall nor as wide as Agathen, but their border did reach higher than the middle of Agathen. Above Berull was the Land called Galdrif. Similar in size with Berull but thinner. They were undeniably the coldest Land, with an almost eternal winter above their Northern town’s and villages. The Land of Galdrif reached the North-East side of Agathen border, as well as continuing higher, looming over Agathen’s borders. On The Northern border they shared the high and mighty Mountains of Tempe Deur. Tall, icy and deathly. Because of the rocky south and mostly cold seasons above, their Land did not grow much of anything, and for that reason it made Agathen one of their most important source of food and other basic ingredients. Instead, they focused on manufacturing everything using copper, metal and other hard, yet bendable materials.

  The fifth Land was perhaps the loneliest, Land of Mifarn, which was located on the South-East border of Berull, thus not quite close to Naévy, and not sharing a border with Galdrif. Mifarn was also quite small and intimate, but they did hold the title as one of the smartest Land’s in all of Frahan. Many wise scholars and scientists had come from their Academies, and their Temples held some of the most valuable and interesting books and tomes on the various subjects of Yumne Dir, those who possess The Light of The God. It was a source of energy, which some people were born with without any rules of ancestry nor location. A mystical game of luck. A God gifted ability, capable of both good and evil, but not much in itself. A subject of Yumne Dir could heal your shallow wound faster, but not with a snap of a finger. They could ease the pain caused by cancer, slower the process, but not remove it completely. Their abilities were limited, as anything in this world. Rules and guidelines. Despite that, those born with the ability could attend Mifarn’s Temples and study there, eventually becoming a Dir Naer—a gifted sorcerer or sorceress. Trusted and looked up to even by The Kings and Queens of the five Land’s and beyond. A well desired occupation, if you may, yet unreachable to most unless born with the source of Yumne Dir flowing inside the veins.

  But as Naévy was the smallest Land, Agathen on the other hand stood as the largest, once holding the status as The Leader of The Monarchy, many years ago in the history of Frahan. Back then, after Emperor Rufusten Kalgazarr The III stepped in power and began his tyranny over the other four— Land of Berull, Naévy, Galdrif and Mifarn formed an alliance and thus began the long, brutal war which laster for one-hundred months, and cost many devastating troops of men to lose their lives. After the war, negotiations began and each Land was granted its’ deserved Independence. Agathenian's were made to sworn in a peace treaty that they should never try and seek the old Monarchy, and they had to refrain from intervening in the other Land’s governing. Over time, however, the Land’s were able to come together once again and begin the harmonious and essential liaison which had continued to even this day.

  Agathenian’s treated the period of The Last Emperor Rufusten Kalgazarr The III as a persistent stain in their otherwise rich and admirable history. Forbidden to be spoken about in the public, the subject even avoided in any contained circles. Yet, his actions served as the reminder of what not to become.

  Sophia sat around the kitchen table, eating her sandwich stuffed with fresh vegetables and ham, while only seeing the cover of the newspaper and grandpa Bill’s rough fingers on the sides, the dark edges of the nails of a hard working man.

  ’’Grandpa Bill, I did not know.’’ Sophia said after swallowing hard. It would be rude to talk with a tasty bite in mouth, ’’Only nine years until the one-hundredth celebration of The Great Independence.’’ She was amazed.

  ’’Mhm—’’ Bill grunted, ’’Must be one hell of a show.’’ He did not sound as excited and it made Sophia giggle behind the huge sandwich before taking another bite. Over the summer the two had become much closer. At first, Sophia would carefully tiptoe on eggshells to find out what ticked Bill off so she’d know what not to do. Turned out, such matters were quite rare. As expected, Sophia enjoyed those days the most when they’d take the horse and carriage and head towards the deep forest and its paths to begin the workday. Grandpa Bill would, of course, take care of chopping the trees’, and meanwhile Sophia was allowed to investigate the forest and its content as much as she pleased, as long as she did not drift too far apart with the fear of encountering wild animals such as bears or wolves, and would not eat anything before first showing it to Bill. Often times, Sophia would find a perfect shrub or flower or berry which she had not seen before back in The Silken Forest nearby The Kingdom Central, and she’d immediately begin to sketch the picture and take it to Bill who’d then tell her all about it.

  It turned out, that grandpa Bill shared the same knowledge and hidden passion as Sophia’s father once had. Bill would not talk about Gregory much, nor his late wife—anyone, really—but it was not hard for Sophia to see the same spark that lit a flame inside Bill when he began to teach about the deep-red berry, which turned out to be edible yet awfully bitter lingonberry— or that one time Sophia found the most precious, lovely white flower which resembled many tiny bells. Once she ran back to Bill, excitedly showing her find, he told her to wash her hands properly once they reach home and that the flower was called Lily-of-the-valley. Such a beautiful name for a poisonous flower. Perhaps the very purpose. The beauty used as an effective tool, luring in unsuspecting victims. Despite that, Sophia drew the flower and its long, large majestic leaves and wrote down everything grandpa Bill had told her from between harsh grunts as he shot loud, quick blows against the trees’, putting his whole back into it. Sophia crouched on the soil on top of the soft moss, using her thigh as a surface to rest the father's old notebook while also working diligently. Just the two of them working on their own projects.

  Each passing day during the summer, the two began to learn each others habits, routines, and quirks. House chores were finished without needing to quarrel, the cabin kept clean and the shabby shed filled with firewood. Once Bill finished cutting the tree for the day in the forest, Sophia would come to help and carry them, loading the logs neatly in the carriage. Then, back home, Bill would cut them into perfect pieces of firewood with only one swish of an axe in the shabby shed, and Sophia would gather and tie a rope around them to then be sold as a bundle with an appropriate amount of silver coins each by The Town Square. That is how they worked, in perfect conformity.

  And other days, when Sophia would beg to spend time with the neighbors kid Marié, they’d run towards the forest on the opposite side, not as far as she’d go with Bill, but just enough to be exciting. Sophia would teach about the forest, once even saving Marié’s life as she was about to eat a poisonous berry called Red Baneberry, beautiful and deliciously red, but deathly especially for the body of a little child. Oh, the horror in Marié’s eyes as she was about to happily throw one in her mouth but ended up with a hasty slap on the wrist just in time as Sophia frowned worriedly. After explaining her reason, though, Marié had hugged her all the way back home and wailed how much she loved her, and how she would never—nor ever—eat anything from the forest without her consent from then on.

  From each of those trips, Sophia would pick flowers and make stunning small bouquets with a strong leaf tied around the stems, like her father had taught her. She’d place them all around the cabin as she had planned upon arriving— the washroom, living room and on top of the drawer in front of the window beside her upstairs bedroom door. As it turned out, Bill did not mind and let her fill the cabin with as many bouquets as she pleased.

  And once the flowers would begin to go dull, she’d take them from the vase, carefully carry them to her room and just like her mother did with the flowers her father brought from their Sunday trips to The Silken Forest, Sophia would hang them to dry from the bedroom ceiling. In no time, during the summer months, she’d fall asleep and wake up in the familiar scent of dried flowers above her. It brought her comfort. It helped her remember beyond the horrible day when she last saw them hanging in that cold yet lovable childhood home. After she began to do so, she did not have those dreadful nightmares anymore which had bothered her ever since that painful day. It was always the same harrowing dream of the old house, empty hue of blue and grey, the sound of desperate painful screams in the distance and the flowers hanging from the ceiling above burning the petals away. As if she just stood there by the door and silently watched the red and orange looming over the dark room. And just before she’d wake up, the agonizing screams could be heard echoing a little louder.

  Once the first bouquet hung from above her in the new bedroom, which in the past had belonged to her father, and once the scent lingered and attached to her clothes and hair once more— those nightmares finally let her be.

  Almost immediately Bill had been shocked to learn she did not own any more clothing other than what draped her body that day. Bill had taken her to the small Town Square in the middle of Brifena. A hunt for children’s clothing. Something Bill had not done in many years, thus did not even know where to begin. The minute they’d arrived down the small hill, where the cobblestones begin, pairs of the town’s folks eyes stared with not so much subtlety, as some took a step towards each other whispering from behind their curious fingertips, not meaning any harm, and it was extremely rare for new faces to be seen around Brifena. Especially around the lone woodcutter Bill, but as soon as he would acknowledge them with a simple nod saying everything it needed to, they would greet with a gentle raised hand themselves.

  ’’Good morning, Madam Trusé.’’ Bill had led the way inside a seamstress shop beside the bakery, which called Sophia’s name with its tasty scent of butter and cream. When she peeked from behind the large back of Bill, she was met with a few mannequin dolls on each side dressed in modest yet fine linen, as well as walls covered in shelves filled with hats and other items as such. There were matching well-tailored jackets and skirts, shirts with perfect collars and lovely silver buttons which brought a dash of luxury in the everyday look. The clothes were definitely not up there with The Kingdom Central, but stylish in their own simplicity. Of course, on top of that, Sophia noticed the racks of even simpler outfits with white shortsleeved shirts and simple copper buttons at front or behind the neck, dark grey skirts with flared a-lined hems towards the calfs, fastened with hidden small buttons that allowed the user to switch which buttons they used to accustom the clothing into the changes of one’s body over the years. Meant to last a lifetime. Sophia had many clothes back in her previous home, all left behind, and these didn’t seem much different from those.

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  ’’Good morning, Mr. Dilamor. What a lovely surprise— and who do we have here?’’ Madam Trusé leaned her hands against the knees to lower more on Sophia’s level, grinning with a well intended smile which made the wrinkles around her lips deepen. She was the number one seamstress in town who taught many other young ladies, and men, to use the sewing machine and sew by hand. She used the back of her shop as a workshop, hidden behind a curtain, and lived upstairs as many shop owners did, ’’What a charming young Lady.’’

  ’’She’s my granddaughter.’’ Bill stated much to Sophia’s surprise. She thought at the time that he ought to introduce her as a simple orphan, taken under his care as nothing more than cheap labor. But instead, she would become known as Billford Dilamor’s only granddaughter. And it made her oddly giddy from the pleasant sound of it, ’’Come on now, kid. Introduce yourself.’’ He nudged her from the shoulder gently and stood high with his arms crossed. An odd pair of a mountain wall and a fair water lily.

  ’’Good morning, Miss. My name is Sophia Dilamor.’’ She lowered down in a tiny curtsey while holding her worn out skirt from both sides, bringing an even more delighted smile on old Madam Trusé’s thin lips which were painted with bright red lipstick. She was definitely a Madam with class, as she wore her self-made tailored suit-dress designed for women. Powerful and feminine. Her light brown hair with grey stripes were gathered behind and pinned there on skilled twirls, and on top of the hairdo she had a small hat slightly tilted on the side.

  ’’My goodness, an old hag like myself is hardly a Miss by now— Madam Trusé would do the trick.’’ She seemed to like the butter up nonetheless, ’’I did not know you had a granddaughter, Mr. Dilamor. Such a shame you kept her hidden from us for all these years.’’ Madam Trusé said playfully and stabbed the pins on the bright red pincushion which she had been carrying tied around the wrist while working on the silhouette of one of her customers orders.

  ’’I hid no one.’’ Grunted Bill and ironically hid away from Madam Trusé’s piercing narrow stare and lopsided little smile.

  ’’Oh, but here she is now.’’ Madam Trusé came on Sophia’s side, ’’But Goddess have mercy, what in the world is she wearing?’’ She gasped, and Sophia did not like her tone— not one bit. Those clothes were carefully picked by mother Harriett, purposefully two sizes too big so she could one day grow into them. Harriett had found such hack to be proper useful. Someone like Madam Trusé would not understand. But she did seem to notice the small pout on Sophia’s lips after her comment was made, thus she tucked little Sophia underneath her armpit and began to take her further back, ’’Come, child. We shall find you a set of newest fashion. I have just the style you need, young Lady.’’ She softened her voice on purpose, not wanting to upset her new favorite customer any more than already had.

  In no time, Sophia was inside the fitting room being assisted by Madam Trusé in front of a large mirror, her arms spread on the sides and the seamstress fastening a couple of more buttons behind the lovely thick a-lined skirt. She had a white shirt with small ruffle on the collars and a well fitting vest on top of it made out of the same fabric as the skirt. Sophia was wearing long white socks and brown leather shoes with thin leather shoelaces, brand new.

  ’’How long will this take?’’ Bill could be heard sighing from the other side of the beige velvet drapery.

  ’’Hush now, do not rush the artist.’’ Madam Trusé hissed mischievously with a grin which made Sophia try and suffocate a giggle, unsuccessfully so. It was refreshing to see someone talk back at Bill in such an easygoing manner, when she herself had only spend a day or two with him at that point and did not know one could talk back at him to begin with.

  Once Sophia stepped out through the velvet drapery, Bill immediately ordered four more sets and stood up since Madam Trusé had said it wasn’t necessary to change out of the new clothes. She fought the urge to throw away Sophia's old rags as a crime against fashion, but returned them with Sophia's request. She praised Bill of his generosity, what a great grandfather he had suddenly become, while the man himself kept avoidant, and as she packed the clothes in a large paper bag, she winked at Sophia and added a lovely deep emerald green hair ribbon in, free of charge, stating how the color complimented her shiny golden hair and round green-filled hazel eyes. Sophia thanked her earnestly. It was the first time she’d bought so much of something that she was given a free gift on the side. Although it wasn’t, by no means, typical for Madam Trusé to go out of her way and gift things away for free. She simply liked the new addition to Brifena so much, that a little treat would not be much of a waste nor loss on her budget.

  Bill could see how genuinely happy and appreciative Sophia was for her new clothes and other essential items such as toothbrush, hairbrush, her own bar of soap and socks— blushed cheeks as she kept peeking inside the smaller bags that she proudly carried on her own, that Bill decided to add sugary buns with raspberry jam inside from the bakery on top of all. They ate the buns while Bill carried most of the bags up the small hill, their stone fence and roof of the tilted shabby shed and second floor of the cabin on sight ahead. The corners of Sophia’s mouth gathered sugar which she’d lick away between bites, not wanting to waste even the smallest crystals while happily holding the bun wrapped in paper with both hands, afraid to drop and lose the tasty gift whilst a couple of the shopping bags cheerfully tangled from the arched elbow, bouncing after each hurried step she took to keep up with Bill.

  On one of those later summer days, Sophia took the hose from a side of the washroom, neatly winded around a metal hold, about to water a few plants she had planted on the side of their backyard, against the low stone fence where the ground felt a little softer. She wanted to have as glorious of a yard as the Monree family beside them, thus made it her own little hobby to figure out how to plant and take care of the plants which she loved to admire in the forest so dearly.

  Sophia hadn’t used the water hose by herself yet, and carefully began to twist the round metallic switch attached on the side of the concrete wall of the washroom. She held the end of the hose forward, just like Bill had done, but nothing seemed to come out despite her efforts.

  Sophia stopped turning the switch and instead brought the end of the hose towards the sky, peeking inside. Needless to say, she wasn’t able to see much of anything, unyielding when faced with such minor mishaps, she kept peeking and turned the switch once more—and in that instant, the water splashed out with a force enough to send her now soaked face behind along with a hysterical yelp escaping her throat. Dumbstruck on the spot, she straightened her hand and pointed the end of the hose forward as she wiped the eyes filled with water, when another scream much lower then followed.

  Sophia looked up and saw the unfolded chain of events, met with an utterly drenched Bill in front of her, holding his jammed arms towards her and the usual frowning eyes now larger than ever before in result of the unexpected attack. Sophia yelped, not knowing whether he’d be mad and finally scold her—send her away as her mind went from zero to hundred—when Bill suddenly bursted into a fit of hoarse and loud laughter coming straight from the bottom of his stomach. Joy as honest and sincere. Sophia’s lips quivered from the cold wake-up call, glimmering drops of water still sliding down from the wet hair and through her cheeks, dropping on the gravel ground as Bill rushed towards her and took the hose from the loose, tiny hands of a wide-eyed Sophia.

  ’’You ought to!’’ Bill chortled with a wide grin and before Sophia could giggle away with her surprisingly fast little legs, Bill pointed the water flowing out straight towards her, now both drenched in cold refreshing water in the hottest most suffocating summer day of the year. The two ran around the backyard as it had become a full blown battle, giggling and cackling loudly with Sophia’s tiny excited yelps while she desperately tried to avoid the water from getting to her or else she’d lose the game. A rule that somehow set on its own.

  On the side, two heads with red curly hair and one with black just as lovely and curly peeked from behind the low stone fence of woodcutter Bill’s, ’’Why are they wasting their water on a hot day like this?’’ The woman said, Vivian Monree she was. A lovely woman who loved to gossip, and talk in general. Mother of little Marié. She had a curly red head with identical freckles as her little copy, Marié, and soft, gentle round features.

  ’’What an odd sight.’’ The man with a beautiful deep skin and dark brown eyes—also just like Marié’s—added. Eyes which anyone could sink into. Derrik Monree, father of little Marié, ’’I do not recall ever seeing Billford smile. Ever.’’ He along with the other two seemed to agree as they nodded in unison.

  ’’Sophié!’’ Finally, Marié jumped out and in the open, leaning over the fence already, ’’Let me join, oh would you?!’’ She swayed herself over the fence and Bill handed the hose to Sophia who then began to try and catch little Marié, both giggling like little birds having a blast. Bill had ordered them to continue for only ten minutes, since they could not afford to waste more water. As Marié got the hold of the water hose, she pointed it towards the sky and the tiny drops fell down on both of them like rain, creating a shelter of a beautiful rainbow with all the necessary colors against the sky above.

  That was the very day when Sophia finally began to address Mister Billford Dilamor—as grandpa Bill.

  When autumn finally arrived and painted the forest with its lovely shades of twilight, Bill brought in the news of Sophia beginning her first year in school. Kids from ages ten to sixteen usually attended class four days a week, learning basic skills, but it was not unheard of being homeschooled either. Sophia was more than thrilled. She had not expected to begin attending school at all, for she had many great tasks alongside Bill, and on top of that she already knew a lot of handy skills for the future young adult years to come, securing her possibility to work many different jobs and earn her own living. Despite that, Bill insisted she began the proper education and Sophia had no objections at all. And what was even more exciting, was the fact that Marié would begin her school year at the same time. The Town of Brifena had only one school, and one of their teachers, Mrs. Pepper had taught many children for over 30 years now. Brifena did not have that many kids all together, so almost everyone in the same age group would attend the same class.

  Sophia met many new friends in their group of seven, although one of them would not be granted such title of a friend, but an enemy instead—Harry Ohara. He’d always tuck her braid which draped behind her, reaching all the way to the lower back, once even stealing the dark emerald green hair ribbon which was Sophia’s favorite. He dropped it in the mud by the side of the school, stumped on it and ruined the fabric with stains that would not come off no matter how much Sophia tried to salvage it by the washroom after school had ended. That was the day when Sophia declared war against him, leaped on top of him and bit his arm despite never being violent in her entire life. And those two never recovered.

  That afternoon, their parents had been called to attend the school and Bill finally had trouble holding the usual frown, puffing his chest rather proud of Sophia for sticking up for herself. The Ohara’s were fuming but Bill stood as the mountain between, of course, he’d still pretend to scold her in front of everyone, but tucked her underneath the smug embrace on their way home through the curving gravel paths. Ruffling her hair into a mess underneath the rough yet secure hands which buried the top of her head entirely. Telling her good job. The highest form of spoken praise one could ever get from him.

  Other than Harry Ohara, Sophia liked her time in school. She learned how to do math which became her favorite new subject. She got praise for already being excellent in writing and reading, which was not always taken for granted since many families did not have the time to teach their children before the age of ten. That being probably the reason why little Harry Ohara had a not-so-hidden grudge against Sophia. But it could’ve been her beauty alongside the matter as well. Young children know such little of those type of emotions, but adults would sometimes joke around with comments about how the two would get married in the future, misunderstanding their banter as friendly squabble, while Sophia gagged at the mere idea of it—sticking out her tongue which infuriated Harry even beyond.

  And with those peaceful and hectic years of childhood play and teenage uncertainty which had room for many ups and downs— nine years with four seasons each went by like a thief in the night before the very eyes.

  ─?~???~?─