Chapter Twenty-Seven

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Nathaniel

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Nathaniel

"Get your ass up here, Nathaniel! Chickens ain't gonna hand over their eggs to you on their own."

I sighed, stretching my sore muscles as aunt Berta called upon me from the chicken coop.

I wiped greasy sweat off my face before throwing the red axe into one of the half-cut woods.

Wind swished as my axe cut through the air, hitting the middle of the jagged, rough surface of the creamy wood.

Bullseye!

"Nathaniel!"

Aunt screamed, making me wince even though I was far away from the house, on the outskirts of the forest.

She had been more hyper than usual since I came back four days ago. Not to say she didn't use to give us her infamous tough love before, but her angst spilled like a spitfire on me lately.

I kind of deserved this, though.

Leaving without a goodbye never resulted in an easy reunion. Not even if I had sent the goods of my earning from the palace.

Pouches of gold coins could never heal the pain of a loved one's absence. I had learned that the hard way.

I had seen it in the eyes of Aunt and Tulip. Speaking of my aunt dearest...

"Nat, don't make me come and drag you, boy! The palace food has turned you into a bloody sloth." Her scream had turned up into a shrill cry.

Neighbors were going to come out now if I didn't move soon.

"Coming!" I shouted back.

Turning around, I jogged the whole way.

A trim backyard adorned with a rusty metal swing came into my view. Besides that, a gnarled oak tree stood with old pride. Faded green leaves swayed in the gentle afternoon breeze.

Our humble one-story brown house stood a few meters behind the swing.

The ceiling of white metal plates — dusted with fluffy golden hay — was getting brown with dirt and storm. Crusts of local wood panels were beginning to chip off, begging for an immediate repair.

I had been working on the crusted wooden panel since I came back. It was high time our home had earned a new look. I wondered why didn't aunt hired a fixer-upper yet.

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