Ghelfunn did not want to see Stoyvit, not today. He was going to miss school and didn't want to explain why. He never missed school. He'd never been sick. When his mother was sick with the Bideneria Dementia, he still attended to his studies. His father had insisted.
"Ghelfunn!" Stoyvit yelled. "Wait up!"
"I'm in a hurry," Ghelfunn said. "I can't stop and talk. I'll see you at school, later."
"Later?" Stovit asked. "Why? Are you running an errand for your father? I'll go with you."
"No. I really want to be alone this morning." Ghelfunn was walking faster, hoping to get some distance between him and Stoyvit. "I need to do run an errand but must go alone."
"What do I tell the bookminders? They will ask," Stoyvit said.
Ghelfunn stopped cold, turned to his friend and said, "If you tell anyone you saw me--"
"Okay. I get it," Stoyvit said. "Don't let me stop you. Maybe I'll see you at lunch break." Stoyvit knew his friend was up to no good, but he was not going to push it.
Ghelfunn walked quickly down the street leading to the market at the center of town. Many villages in Caarynda had a market and Nyssa was no different. The market was the center of all local activity, especially if you had something to sell. Ghelfunn carried in his pouch a precious commodity which was worth a great deal, but his goal was not to sell it. He intended to trade it.
The sun was up and Ghelfunn began to sweat. His heart beat like a Caarydian tribal drum. He tried to tell his heart to calm down, but his heart was not listening. Thump. Thump. Thump. The blood seeped into his ears and he could hear his heartbeat with each breath he took. The sound of his anxiety rhythmically attuned itself to his breathing and each step he took added to the steady stream of fear which threatened to overcome him. I've got to control myself, he thought. I can handle it. I must. I have no choice. Father needs my help, and we can't lose our home.
The smells of fresh bread filled the air as Ghelfunn turned right, taking a major corridor leading to the town center. His father baked the best bread in town but never sold it. He wondered why Father considered selling bread a sin, an act unworthy of the Rhann clan. Rhann clan. What a joke. The Rhanns were mostly dead. Just Ghelfunn and his father were the only surviving limbs of what once was a large tribal tree with many branches. Eloy and Ghelfunn, the last two souls on telleran soil with Rhann blood flowing through their veins. Ghelfunn and his father shared something deeper than being a part of a clan. They were survivors. They relied on each other.
