Of Blood And Fire by Ryan Cahill (best classic books of all time .txt) 📕

three nights in the depths of the forest with only a knife and a bow. For these are the two things that will ensure they never go hungry. They must show that they understand how to survive on their own before we can allow them out into the world. So it has been, and so it will be. We go in groups – never less than two, and never more than four – to forge bonds that will last a lifetime; for no weight is too heavy when shared. But listen closely. Do not take this lightly. Ölm Forest is a dangerous place at night, and there are larger things than wolfpines that roam its depths. It has claimed the lives of many.”

There was a momentary silence. The earlier ruckus died down as the crowd was swept up in Erdhardt’s ominous words. “As such, it has long been the case that each group must return with the pelt of a predator. You must stand against what you fear – and conquer it. Only then will you pass The Proving, for everything you seek lies on the other side of fear. However, the group who returns on the fourth morning, after the third night, with the pelt of the most dangerous predator will be announced as the victors of The Hunt, and they will, of course, receive the victors’ purse.

“For tonight, drink heartily, eat well, and warm yourselves by the fire. Take advice from your fathers, better advice from your mothers, and laugh with your siblings. Tomorrow, you enter the forest as boys and return to us as men.”

Erdhardt raised his tankard of mead in the air, which was mimicked by the crowd. Those without tankards raised their closed fists. Calen felt a surge of pride flow through him as he crunched his fingers into a fist and thrust his hand into the air. A fire burned in the pit of Calen’s stomach as Erdhardt spoke the blessings of the Gods.

“May The Mother embrace you,

and The Father protect you.

May The Warrior guide your hand

and The Maiden guide your mind.

May The Smith keep your blade sharp

and The Sailor see you to safe shores.”

The sun had not yet risen above the mountains to the east, but Calen couldn’t sleep. He stared off into the distance while he ran his knife over a small whetstone, again and again.

“How sharp can a knife be?” Calen hadn’t heard Ella come into the kitchen.

Ella glared at Calen as he mimicked her, in as high-pitched a tone as he could reach.

“You know that I can hear you, right?” She stepped out onto the porch, nudging Calen’s shoulder with her own as she sat down beside him. She handed him some bread and cheese, which he took with a half-hearted smile before returning his gaze to the hazy distance.

“Sorry,” Calen sighed, shrugging.

Ella let a few moments pass before she spoke again. “You’re thinking about Haem, aren’t you?”

The knife stopped moving back and forth across the whetstone. Calen hadn’t even noticed that he was still sharpening the knife. He turned his head to answer Ella, but once he met her gaze, he immediately dropped his eyes to the floor, the air puffing out of his chest. He felt the soft touch of her hand at the side of his cheek as she slowly turned his head back up toward her face.

“He would be proud, Calen. I might not say it to you often, but I’m proud. You’re my brother, and you are a pain in my backside most of the time, but I am proud of you.” She pulled him into a hug, wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders. “Come on, let’s go inside and have tea with Mam and Dad. Put your knife away until you’re in the forest. It can’t get any sharper.”

With that, she brushed the crumbs of bread off her dress, stood up, and walked back into the kitchen. Calen was sure that there would never come a day when he would understand Ella. One minute, she mocked him; the next, she told him she’s proud of him. He hoped all women weren’t like that.

He tossed the last of the bread and cheese into his mouth, sheathed the knife, and placed it back into his satchel. He then followed Ella into the kitchen, careful to put the whetstone back onto the shelf by the door.

Freis and Vars entered the kitchen not long after the sun had crested the mountain. The morning light caused Calen to wince as he shuffled in his chair.

Vars knuckled Calen’s head affectionately. A warm smile rested on his face as he looked out at the rising sun and back towards Calen. There was an anxiety in the way Freis shuffled about the kitchen, pouring everyone deep mugs of Arlen root tea.

“You know I hate Arlen root tea,” Calen protested, his nose scrunching up into a ball at the earthy smell wafting from the mug.

“Calen Bryer, you are about to go into a dangerous forest for three nights. It will be cold, dark, and wet. There are animals in there with teeth and claws. Arlen root will keep your mind focused. I am your mother. Drink your tea.”

Calen glared at Freis’ back while he choked down a mouthful of poison that masqueraded as tea. Vars exchanged a look with Ella, and they both broke out in laughter, much to Calen’s annoyance.

“Okay, once we’ve all finished this delicious tea,” Vars said, another laugh escaping him as Calen shot him a dirty look, “we should get going. The Havels will most likely be there already. I’m not so sure about Dann. I would say Tharn had to drag him out of bed this morning. Talked the ear off that poor Ölm girl last night before he passed out.”

That brought a smirk to Calen’s face, which was swiftly wiped away by another mouthful of tea.

By the time they had gathered themselves and set off towards the edge