It was a perfect morning. The rain from the night before had washed the world clean. Birds chirped from the trees, cattle lowed from the fields, and the scent of damp soil filled the air. Everything felt fresh.
Axel woke from his cozy bed, warm under the wool blankets. He stretched, got up, and quickly freshened himself. Then, without wasting time, he stepped into his usual routine—milking the cows and cleaning out the stables. At fourteen, he was used to hard work. He had no choice.
Once the chores were done, he carried the fresh milk back to the house and handed it to Martha—Master Malcolm's wife. A kind woman, Martha had always treated Axel like her own child. She and Malcolm had no children of their own, so Axel had become like family to them.
Around breakfast time, Martha handed him a simple meal: warm bread, vegetable stew, and a glass of fresh milk.
"Is that it?" Axel asked, raising an eyebrow.
"If you want anything more than that, come help me in the kitchen," she replied, grinning teasingly.
Just then, Malcolm walked in, wearing his hunting vest and carrying his bow.
"Axel, get ready. We're going hunting today."
Axel groaned. "Why today? Can't we go tomorrow?"
Malcolm gave him a cold, fatherly stare.
"Alright, alright," Axel mumbled, falling in line. "Which horse are you taking?"
"My usual—Baby," Malcolm replied.
"Then I'll take the white one," Axel said with a grin.
He was excited, but he still felt like it was a bit of a drag. Still, he packed thoroughly for a two-day trip: jerky, fire starters, bedrolls, a tent, bow and arrows, throwing knives, a hunting knife, sword, and a few small traps.
They saddled up and rode out, following the dirt path that led toward the village. At the fountain square, they took a left and followed a trail that ran along a quiet creek, the horses' hooves splashing gently as they crossed shallow water.
Soon they reached the edge of the forest, thick and green from the rain. Birds scattered as they rode deeper into the trees.
"What are we hunting today?" Axel asked. "Deer or boar?"
Malcolm simply nodded forward. Axel took the lead and began scanning the ground for tracks. It didn't take long—he found signs of wild boars rooting through the underbrush.
He dismounted quietly and notched an arrow. Crouching low, he crept forward and spotted the first boar. With steady breath, he drew the string and let the arrow fly.
It pierced straight through the boar's heart. The beast let out a short, sharp cry before collapsing.
Another rustle caught his attention—another boar nearby. Axel swiftly aimed and fired again. The second arrow struck true, right through the skull. The second beast dropped instantly.
"Two in one go," Malcolm said, stepping beside him. "Not bad."
They spent another few hours scouting and roaming the area, but those two were the prize. With the sun beginning to dip low, they tied the boars to the horses and began the trek back home.
The hunt had been a success. But neither of them knew this would be one of the last peaceful mornings they'd share for a long, long time.