Saturday, April 9, 2011

Dawn


The village was peaceful when we got back. The only sounds that I could hear were footsteps of Gyards and the sounds of singing crickets and toads and mellow whoosh of the wind that brushes the trees in the nearby woods. 

“Vargas is fast,” Gilderoy broke the silence. His deep eyes locked into the direction of a huge hut not far from the pathway into Fuego. A glimmer of an oil lamp lit up the small shop of the giant blacksmith. 

Dad turned to see Vargas’ hut. “That’s what we need now. Speed.”

Gilderoy turned to look at him. “You’re scaring me with the way you are talking Farrell.”

Dad just gave Gilderoy a smile. A tedious smile and I knew that Gilderoy saw and knew what that smile meant. Dad was seriously nervous about everything. The thought of what Dad was thinking that time lingered in my mind. What did it felt like if I was in his shoes that time?
“The sun is about to rise Gilderoy, did the Gyards in Fuego spotted any actions from the elves?” Dad changed the topic. Even in the midst of tension, there he was, forcing himself to stay calm.

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