Page 65 of The Blood of Gods and Monsters

Mom’s old tea kettle whistles from its position over the fire and she quickly grabs a cloth to remove it from the handle that hangs over the flames before moving to pour the steaming hot liquid into two bowls. Soup for breakfast… again.

A dull groan rumbles up my throat as I swing my legs over the side of my cot. “Don’t we have any bacon?” I plead as I settle a hand over a stomach that bites at me in hunger.

Mom passes me a guilty look. “Not today, sweetie,” she murmurs before setting the now cooled kettle onto one of the tables that make up a counter. “Vegetable soup is good for you. Come sit. We need to pack after breakfast.”

I’m halfway to the table, but at her words, I slow to a stop and lift my eyes back to hers. “Do we have to?” I want to snatch back the words the moment they’re out of my mouth. I know better than to beg, but I thought this place was different.

Yette is a small village near the Hinterlands. Surely whatever searches for us wouldn’t dare to come so close to a place even the most dangerous of criminals avoid. I thought it was safe here. That we were safe from whatever shadow stalks my mom’s dreams. I should have known better though. She had another dream last night—and unlike the others, this one seems to have her more on edge.

Mom sighs and comes around the table, wiping her hands absently on her already stained apron as she bundles me into her arms. “I’m sorry, baby,” she says quietly, patting her hands on my back as she holds me to her.

I cuddle closer. Even if I am ten, almost a man by my standards, I still love the smell of her in my nose. All powdery and lemon scented. Lemon is my favorite and I wonder if it’s because it reminds me of her.

“I liked it here,” I say, the childish hope to convince her to forget whatever nightmare held her in its thrall last night and stay still bubbling inside me.

When she pulls back, though, I know it’s a false hope. “I know.” Mom pushes a lock of my hair back and tucks it behind my ear. “But it’s time for us to move. You knew that we wouldn’t stay long.”

“We stayed longer here than anywhere else,” I argue.

Her brows pinch and her expression turns stern. “Eat your breakfast,” she orders, straightening as she gestures for the table.

I stare past her at the gross vegetable soup that sits, waiting, on the rickety wooden table that had been here when we first moved in. That, too, I know will be left behind. Everything but what we can carry will be.

“Can I at least say goodbye to Ralf?” I half-plead.

Huffing out a breath, she places her hands on her hips to glare down at me. I don’t care, I place my hands together and gaze up at her, trying to make my eyes as big as they can be until I feel like they’re about to pop out of my head. With a huff, Mom rolls her eyes and drops her hands, and with that one action, I know I’ve won.

“Fine,” she says. “But hurry along. You have to eat before we leave and I’m not reheating your soup, so if you go now, you’ll have to eat your soup cold.”

I’ve had cold soup before, and honestly, hot or cold, it never makes it any better, but I at least want to have some time with my first ever friend before I say goodbye to him forever.

“I love you!” I cry as I slam myself into her lower half, squeezing her legs as I press my face into her stomach. “I’ll be quick, promise.”

Her laughter as I release her to jump about the room, pulling off my night clothes and jerking on my breeches and tunic and boots, follows me as I race out of the shack and into the street.

Unlike other places, even the slums of Yette are clean. The people living here prefer to take care of whatever they have even if it’s not much. After three months, I know the way to Ralf’s by heart. Hanging a left, I jog lightly down the road closer to the city. Ralf’s shack is similar to ours except that it has two rooms instead of one, each one stacked atop the other with a ladder that acts as their staircase. When I stop outside Ralf’s door and knock lightly, I hear his elder sister, Mira, call out.

Creeping inside, I offer the older pretty girl with eyes like a doe and freckles smattered over her cheeks a smile. “Is Ralf up?” I ask, peering around the room where no one else moves about.

Mira huffs out a snort. “This early?” she shakes her head and points the ladle she’s using to stir something over the fire towards the ladder. “Feel free to wake him and Samson up. They need to head out to gather some meds from the forest edge soon.”

I’m already nodding and heading for the ladder, setting my hands into place and making short work of the effort it takes to head up to the lone room that sits above their living space. My head peeks through the opening to see that it’s far darker up here without windows. The ceiling is lower than the first floor with barely enough room to crouch as I scoot down the row of blankets and straw mattresses spread out on the floor for Ralf’s family of five including his sister, brother, and parents to sleep.

“Ralf!” I whisper-hiss into the darkness. “Ralf, wake up, I need to talk to you.”

From the back of the room, a low grumble sounds. “Five more minutes, Mom,” Ralf replies, his voice heavy and still mostly asleep.

I roll my eyes and head straight for him, grabbing the foot I see sticking out of the bottom of his straw mattress and yanking hard. “Wake up,” I order, getting a little bit louder when I remember that Mira had said I could wake both him and Samson.

At my voice, Samson’s little head pops up next to his brother’s and he blinks eyes the same color as Mira’s at me for several long seconds. Then he smiles. “Hi, Ruen,” he says, reaching up to rub his eyes with his fists.

I smile back at the five-year-old, thankful that both of their parents appear to be out for the day and already working to provide for them. “Hi, Sammie. Mira has something cooking for you downstairs. You should go eat breakfast.”

“‘Kay,” the little boy responds around a yawn, but unlike his brother, Sammie is awake and already crawling across the mattresses heading for the opening that leads below.

Ralf kicks at my hand, making me realize I’ve still got a grip on him. I tug again. “Come on, Ralf, I’m serious.”

He half sits up and glares at me. “What is so important that you have to wake me up at the ass crack of dawn?” he gripes.

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