Day Nine - Afternoon to Night

     Alicia seems to get the hint to stop prying after several aborted attempts in asking how Casper’s day went. She drops the subject and abandons conversation altogether, funnily enough, to attend to her duties in the kitchen. Now that she’s no longer bothering him, daddy dearest has been looming over his shoulder, silently pressuring him to scram already. Casper takes his sweet time chewing on the leftover heel of bread Alicia gave him, just to spite him.

     Alright, he’s had his fun. Pa looks like he’s going to have a fit if he pushes him any further. Casper just knows his bit of bread is going to be coming out of his tab, but he couldn’t care less. He tucks the remaining half of his lunch in his pocket to save for dinner and leaves with a cheery goodbye. Alicia waves him off from the kitchen. Pa watches him go without acknowledging him.

     That went well.

     Casper wanders through town, fingers laced behind his head, watching the clouds crawl above, wondering what else he should do today. The question answers itself when he spots the local boys milling by the manor road. It would seem they do make a habit of stationing themselves here after all. Casper checks the angles of where they’re standing and where his shortcut through the churchyard runs; a rough estimate says he won’t be visible save for that short stretch between the cover of the forest and the fence. A few dangerous seconds of open ground at full sprint. He’ll have to be careful in the future.

     Casper strolls up to the group carefree as can be, as if he wasn’t evaluating them as a potential threat. He begins to perk up in earnest when he sees Davis. The younger boys run up to him, as is their wont, screaming delighted gibberish over one another. Casper notes they express some amount of surprise at his coming, nor does he miss how the majority of the crowd was looking up the hill before the alarm was sounded.

     It would seem he’s found the wellspring for the local rumor mill about him. All the more reason to make a good impression, see if he can’t undo some of the damage.

     “’Hoy there! Sorry ‘bout runnin’ off on yous the last couple times. You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve been sent runnin’ mad for somethin’ or other since I got here.” Casper huffs.

     “’S’awright. That uncle of yours giving you the run about?” Asks Davis.

     “And on a Sunday too!” A younger boy gasps.

     “Yeah, well, he ain’t exactly the churchgoing type, if you know what I mean. No rest for the wicked,” Casper shrugs.

     The mob ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s their commiserations. At least someone has sympathy.

     Conversation turns to other things: complaints of hard work in the fields, catching trout in the river, the coming summer season. Everyone went quiet on the topic of summer. Then the subject changed and the prattling went on like it never happened, but even standing around, talking about genial nothingness gets dull after awhile. The younger boys are the first to fuss, the older soon following. Casper’s getting restless himself. When he suggests playing pirates, for lack of any other idea of what to do, he finds himself facing enthusiastic approval. So, pirates it is then.

     There’s a lengthy scuffle about who gets to be captain, first-mate, etc., but it eventually gets settled with the older boys getting the higher ranks while the younger get saddled with positions like deckhand. Casper gets an early promotion to second mate because it was his idea, and, as a result, becomes a subject of much admiration and envy from the boys his age and mild contempt from his ranking peers.

     The games begin and the motley crew goes rampaging around town and into the nearby fields. They show Casper all the best things: fields left to fallow and grow tall grass to play hide and seek in, the best places to catch fish, old man Farin’s orchard at the bottom of the hill. They run. They laugh. They play. They make a nuisance of themselves and Casper can’t recall the last time he’s had so much fun. It’s good to be part of a group again, lose himself in the bustle of a crowd. But all good things come to an end. Too soon does the sun set and the boys split ways to head for wherever it is they call home. Casper tags along with a few down his made-up route as far as he can, then watches them happily carry on without him. He doubles back and sneaks to the manor road and he goes home. Alone.

     He been up and down the path enough times by now to avoid some of the pitfalls and potholes on it, even in the failing light. He’s stayed out longer than he probably should have. Balor’s not going to be pleased, but he just couldn’t tear himself away. They’re his friends. You can’t just abandon your friends that easily (hasn’t stopped him before). Surely Balor will understand, right? Right? The question stews in his head the whole, long way back. The stars are starting to show as he arrives and Balor is waiting at the door. There’s no getting out of this. The big guy’s seen him and is coming straight for him. He isn’t pleased.

     “And, where, pray tell, have you been, Casper?” Balor looms large over him, arms crossed, face set in stone.

     Casper wastes no time making his appeal. “I know I’m late, I know, I know, but it’s not like I meant to!”

     “That comforts me very little. I do not like to think I ask much of you and that which I do ask I do so with your own wellbeing in mind. Now come,” Balor takes him firmly by the shoulder and steers him toward the house. Casper goes meekly, considering a tongue lashing to be the least of what an angry Balor could do to him. “Now,” Balor continues, “what is it that has kept you abroad to such an hour?”

     “Uhh,” Casper shifts, part embarrassed to answer, part baffled why Balor cares; nobody asks him how his day’s been unless they’re trying to catch him in one of his lies. Balor pins him with a look and he knows the big guy’s not going to let the question slide. “I, uh, I made friends,” he mutters.

     Balor stops in his tracks. “I beg your pardon?”

     He clears his throat, hoping the evening dusk will hide the rising heat in his face. “I made friends,” he squeaks.

     “…Friends, did you say? Is that right?”

     Casper says nothing; he just nods.

     Balor hums thoughtfully. “That is good, Casper, very good. I assume you enjoyed yourselves?”

     “Yes…?” Casper doesn’t know where he’s going with this, but it likely won’t be anywhere within the borders of pleasant conversation.

     Balor surprises him yet again. “It gladdens me to hear it. I do believe this calls for celebration, does it not?” He lets go of his shoulder to open the door for him. “I have a rabbit I thought suitable for another attempt at dinner. Care to join me or would you prefer to stand there all evening?”

     “You sure it’s okay if I come in?” Casper shifts from foot to foot. By god does dinner sound tempting, even if it ends up burnt as the partridge from a few days ago, but it’s not worth it if he’s walking straight into an ambush. “Myr’s been in a right state an’ I don’t care for getting’ jumped in my sleep again.”

     “You need not worry about him tonight. Much of his earlier irritability was due in part by being dry for a large portion of the day. Having surreptitiously found a bottle at hand, I think you will find him more subdued.”

     “I don’t suppose you had a hand in magicking this bottle out of thin air?” Balor doesn’t answer, but there’s a hard glint of mischief about him that makes Casper smile. He changes tack: “He seemed pretty drunk to me when he came askin’ for me in the middle of the bleedin’ night.”

     “Language, Casper. Admittedly, you are not mistaken, however I believe that instance can be attributed to a passing inclination, not a lasting one. Furthermore, in the coming weeks, Myr will be increasingly occupied with… various endeavours, which will leave him with little time to consider other matters, including yourself.”

     “So, it’s safe?”

     “It is as safe as it has ever been,” Balor nods.

     And with that, Casper gingerly tiptoes in after Balor. Contrary to expectations, the roof does not mysteriously fall upon his head, nor does Myr immediately come barreling for him. (He thumbs the fading marks on his neck.) Balor offers his hand to him on the way to the kitchen. Casper declines, even if it means stumbling a bit in the dark. He hears Myr shuffling about upstairs, but not once does he hear Balor bump into anything. Come to think of it, where is he?

     “Balor!” Casper whisper-yells.

     “I am here,” he answers from the kitchen. “Forgive me, I took the initiative to start the fire.” Sure enough, there’s a warm glow drifting from around the corner up ahead. Balor pokes his head through the kitchen door. “Do you require assistance Casper?”

     You’d never think it to look at him, but the bug guy’s turning into out to be quite the mother hen. “’M fine,” Casper rolls his eyes. “I didn’t know where you were, is all.”

     It’s easier to find his way into the kitchen now that there’s a bit of light to see by. The fire in the stove box is burning gold again and Balor is holding a sizable rabbit over head by the ears. “Do you have an idea of what to do with this specimen?” He asks.

     Casper squints at the floppy, furred thing hanging from Balor’s grasp. The way he’s holding it reminds him of Ratter, the kook that made his living off of catching, sometimes cooking and eating rats he’d catch. He shared a meal with him a few times when the winters were at their worst in exchange for a few potatoes he nicked from the market. It wasn’t pretty and the meat was stringy, but Ratter’s fire kept him fed and warm during the worst of the lean season.

     Casper makes a grabbing motion. “Give it ‘ere. I think I might know a thing or two.” Balor obliges and hover over his shoulder while Casper goes searching for a good knife. He shoves clear a portion of the counter, rolls up his sleeves, blade at hand and gets to work, muttering under is breath everything he can remember about how Ratter prepped their meals. It’s messy work made messier still by the lack of light. Casper sends Balor off to get him more light when it’s time to skin the carcass; from what he recalls, this is the most finicky bit of the job and he doesn’t want to end up cutting himself by accident. He finishes fairly pleased with his work and blood stains all over the front of his overalls.

     Balor seems impressed too. “This is a sight more than I could have managed. Well done Casper. However, I do find myself wondering why is it that you had known to skin the rabbit, yet not the partridge.”

     “Never caught a bird before. They’re too quick. And birds are way more different from rats than rats are to rabbits, so excuse me for not knowin’ things straight off.”

     “My apologies, but I fail to see how rats are at all relevant to the situation at hand.” Might just be his imagination, but Balor sounds a bit shrill. At any rate, he’s more than happy to let the subject drop when Casper dodges the question.

END OF DAY NINE.

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