It is confusing, really. Just understand that there are infinite worlds out there and I am … I am the focal point of all of them – in a manner of speaking.789Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLeFJvHygcp
“Why do they call it Goldwall? There’s no giant wall to single it out as a feature like in Raganad. And it is most certainly not made up of gold.”
Peter threw himself down on the grass. Leaning back on his hands, he stared at his village that lay at the foot of the hill.
“It was named several centuries ago by old village elders. Who knows what those old cranks were thinking,” Antei commented.
He was a well-built young man with black hair and light brown eyes. Slightly shorter that Peter, he had small eyes often leading to him being teased as being perpetually blind. Peter, on the other hand had large dark brown eyes and black hair and was slightly taller but thinner than Antei. While Antei’s skin was brown, Peter’s was only lightly tanned.
They were on the slope of a hill that stood tall behind Peter’s home. They had been sent here to pick berries by Anjelia, Peter’s mother. According to Antei, Anjelia made the best blueberry pie in the entire Goldwall village.
“What would you call it?” Antei asked.
“Call what what?”
“Goldwall. If you were given a chance to name it, what would you name it?”
“Me?” Peter hesitated. “I don’t know. But I’d come up with a name better and less confusing than Goldwall.”
“I think you’d come up with an equally ridiculous name.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“Of course you’d think that. I’ve read the stories that you’ve written. The names you come up with are terrible.”
“I know, I know. But the stories are good.”
“I won’t argue with you about that,” Antei said, shaking his head.
“Because you know they’re good,” Peter replied with a grin. “How much berries have you picked? My basket is half full.”
“So is mine. We’ve picked these shrubs clean. I think we should head over to that hill over there.”
Peter got up and the two started walking. They made their way down a steep slope, using moss covered stones for support in order to avoid falling down the hill. It had rained recently; the grass was wet and it made walking the path they were on difficult and slightly dangerous. If either of their mother found out that they had been taking this route instead of the longer but safer dirt-path they would be grounded for a whole week.
“My mum’s been trying to teach Pristina how to cook,” Peter commented.
“And?”
“She’d rather learn how to fight.”
“What about you? Don’t you want to learn to fight?”
“I’d rather cook.”
“Yes, but if you learn fighting, you can defend yourself from hunger and enemies.”
“I’ll think about it. What if I learn fighting and you learn cooking?”
“I can cook.”
“Yeah right. Your cooking ability is worse than my naming ability.”
“That’s a deep blow.”
“Then you learn cooking. I’ll learn fighting. It’s a win-win.”
They came to a small gorge. The stream that ran through it went down the hill and mixed into the river that ran straight through their village. Peter and Antei had used fallen wood to craft a small but sturdy bridge which they used cross it. They may have been brave enough to walk down a slippery slope but were certainly not stupid enough to cross a flowing stream of water on a hill.
“We should try and follow this stream up the hill one of these days,” Antei said. “Where do you think the water comes from?”
“Well, this stream is flowing mostly during rainy season so I gather there must be a small lake or something atop the hill. I bet that’s the source.”
“How do you know that?”
“It’s just a guess. It makes sense doesn’t it? Where else would the water come from? It doesn’t snow around here. Therefore, it must be a small lake or a reservoir of water of some sort.”
“We should still go all the way to the top and see for ourselves.”
“How cool would it be if someone built a statue or a structure up there that you could see from far away? We’d have so many visitors come to our village. I heard one of the elder the other day talking about how the number of tourists to our village has gone down now that they opened a direct route to Turiya port from Sherman.”
“I have heard about the new route. I don’t know anything about visitors visiting our village less.”
“You should keep up with the local news.”
After walking on plain ground for a while, they started walking uphill. This was not exactly another hill as Antei had stated, merely a huge mound protruding for the hill they had been on. It was grassy, sparsely populated with thin eight feet tall trees, and covered with thick shrubbery. One could see the entirety of Goldwall village from this place; the Itagab river cutting through it, the small wooden houses towards the east, the village hall in the centre, the marketplace to the west directly at the entrance to the village, and the other buildings all over the village housing the pubs, blacksmiths, small libraries, and the Elders’ home.
Peter paused for a moment to take in the scenery. He always did so whenever he was up here.
“Goldwall looks really nice now that they’ve paved the roads with those white stones,” he said.
“I really like the new arched bridge they built over Itagab that leads to the village hall.”
“Yeah, it was time they replaced the old wooden one. It was falling apart. Remember that time Logan nearly fell through into Itagab?”
“The whole village remembers. He’s the one who went shouting to the Elders in the first place. Which reminds me, we should visit the old man. It’s been a while.”
“We could take some of the blueberry pie mum is going to make.”
“That’s a good idea.”
They began searching through the shrubbery for blueberries. Half an hour later, their baskets were full and the two friends were sweating profusely from the heat as the sun rose to its zenith. They had scratches on their arms from where the thorns in the shrubs had cut them.
“Let’s go wash up at the stream.”
“Yeah. I’m thirsty too.”
They went back the most of the way they had come before taking a turn around a stone they had marked. This path that they had discovered led them slightly uphill to a flat patch of ground where the water from the stream collected into a small pond. Here, they used the cool water to wash themselves, clean the cuts on their arms, and have a drink. Freshened up, they sat on the nearby rocks to rest.
Since their baskets were completely full, they snacked on some of the blueberries.
“I want to head up to the mountains one day and freeze these berries. I want to know how they taste like frozen,” Peter said.
“I’m sure they’ll taste the same. Only colder.”
“But what if we squeeze the juice out of these berries and then freeze the juice. Imagine, frozen blueberry juice! It’ll be like a candy, I’m sure.”
“They have those frozen desserts up in Sherman. They’re very expensive though.”
“I wish my salary at the library was a bit higher.”
“Hey, it’s higher than my salary. Woodworking doesn’t pay much. My dad wants me to go and work at Turiya port.”
“I’ve been telling you to come to the library and study those books on architecture.”
“Studying won’t be of much help if I can’t practice it now will it?”
“Still, it can be a start.”
“I suppose so. Come, we should get going. The pie is best when the berries are used fresh.”
They got up and, after dusting themselves off, they started making their way back. They crossed the gorge, walked up the steep slope they had come using the thin trees for support, and were soon back in the place where they had been picking the berries initially. From there, they got on the path that led down to the foot of the hill. Half an hour later, they were walking on the newly paved stone paths in the village, making their way to Peter’s home.
Peter’s house was a small two storied wooden building with a small garden at the front. Anjelia was working in the garden, uprooting the weeds, when her son and his friend finally arrived.
“Hello mum,” Peter said cheerfully as he opened the gate to his house.
“Finally arrived have you? You’ve been gone a good four hours,” Anjelia replied in an irritated voice.
“Sorry Aunty. We had to go to the next hill to get more blueberries,” Antei said. “And we brought in quite a lot.” He showed the berries he had in his basket.
“That’s all very well but we don’t have enough sugar. You two are going to have to go to the market to get some.”
“But that’s half an hour walk away!” Peter protested.
“Well, you two brought in all those berries. They’re going to get spoiled in two days and you can’t eat all those raw. You know what happened last time.”
Peter winced.
“Your mum’s right. It’s better if she makes it all into pie.”
“And there isn’t enough sugar. So, you two better go to the market and get some.” Turning towards the house, Anjelia yelled for Pristina.
A girl, a bit fairer than Peter, but with similar facial features exited the house with a pouch. At twenty, she was seven years younger than Peter. She walked over to her older brother and handed it to him.
“Could you also buy some cloth for me? The blue cloth, like the one I showed you yesterday,” she said.
“What is this about blue cloth?” Anjelia asked.
“She’s making a dress,” Peter answered. “She needs blue cloth for it and wants me to buy it.”
“You really ought to start going to the market on your own Pristina,” Antei commented. “You’re too lazy.”
“You’re lazy too. I have been asking you for a drawing since I was fifteen,” Pristina replied with a pout.
“Oh, stop arguing,” Anjelia said, irritated. “Both of you get going. At this rate it’ll be sunset by the time I finish making the pie. And Pristina, did you finish cleaning the living room floor?”
Shouting a harmless insult to Antei, Pristina ran back inside the house to finish her chore. Peter, pocketing the pouch, exited the gate with Antei and started walking towards the market.
Anjelia watched as her son and his friend walked away. Then, with a sigh, she picked up the two baskets of berries the two friends had left and walked into the house to make the pie she’d promised them.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
