• 1886 ~ Sometime Around Winter
    “Good night mum.”
    “Good night Sînge .”
    “Good night father.”
    “See you in the morning fiu .”
    It was a cold and foggy night in Verian, located in a Romania, and everyone was getting ready for a good night sleep. The 17-year-old boy, Sînge, now lying on his bed, let out a loud sigh, due to his tiring day in the fields. There he spent most of his day planting corn. He moaned as he felt his aching back, sore from a day’s worth of bending his spine.
    Sînge watched the farmers around him as they worked deliberately to plant their own crops. The whole field was divided into separate crops for each family. Sînge had no need to work since he was part of a noble branch; his father was a wealthy and successful man. However, he sought the desire to help other families. His father was a hardworking and generous man; he worked as a doctor, and part-time inventor.
    “Hey Sînge,” he looked to his right and saw Adrian walking towards him, blocking out the sun’s blinding light with his hand as he did, “pass me your hoe, mine snapped in half.”
    “Snapped in half?” Sînge smirked. “I suppose you’re not willing to tell me what happened.”
    Adrian stopped four feet away Sînge. “Ehhh you know…got stuck on a crevice…didn’t see the hard rubble.” Adrian smiled at Sînge, whom was now shaking his head, laughing silently at his friend. Adrian joined and shrugged his shoulders, “Happens.”
    “Ah Adrian.” Sînge chuckled. “You never grow do you?”
    “No sir I don’t.” Adrian punched Sînge lightly in the shoulder. “Now — about that tool of yours.” He gestured toward Sînge’s hoe with a nod.
    “Yes of course.” Sînge tossed the hoe to Adrian and shouted as Adrian walked away, “Bring it back in one piece!”
    Adrian turned around now walking backwards. “No guarantees on that my brother!” Adrian let out a curving smile at Sînge.
    Sînge continued on, now working with his hands. He picked up a seed and cupped it on his right hand, digging a hole on the rich, dark, soil in the ground with his left. Once done digging a simple hole, he placed the seed gently inside and scooped up more dirt, burying the future crop. Sînge smiled and looked up at the sun, such a beautiful day he thought. This was, unsurprisingly, the last of the sun he was to enjoy again.
    He worked hard that late morning, completing over three acres by himself; he was proud. After his work, he withdrew to Verian, stopping by Adrian’s house for luncheon.
    Unfortunately, all of their efforts were questionably a waste, due to falling snow that occupied the fields now, freezing everything the sheet of white engulfed. Where did it come from? No answers. There was no snowfall during this time of the year, well not in Verian. Sînge never really knew about life outside of Verian. He had traveled with his father everywhere around Wallachia, but never outside Romania. At those expeditions, his father traveled with his fellow hunters, and left Sînge behind, promising he was to return.
    Sînge glanced at his hoe resting against the door, then at his brown leather boots lying next to his bed. They were both filled with dirt and snow, due to the random snowfall in the field that now slept under a blanket of snow.
    Sînge respired sheepishly and reached over for the candle on his table adjacent to the front bedpost; he grabbed its handle, and bringing it towards his face, he blew it out. Darkness. Sînge’s eyes took time to adjust due to the darkness that swamped the large room of his. He riveted at the candle light that succumbed through the fissure of his wooden door. Not a moment later there were heavy footsteps; his father passed his room talking in a hushed tone to his mother, too low for him to hear.
    “Lord Vladimir said he’s to arrive when the clock tolls midnight.” His father whispered to his wife as they edged toward the master bedroom.
    The petrified woman stopped dead on her tracks, under the doorframe leading to their bedroom, looking at her husband. “What?! He clearly stated he was due a long month from today!” She gasped out, her chest bursting with panic. She clutched it as if it were to burst into fragments any moment.
    Her husband clasped his hands over his wife’s cheeks. “Not to worry. The Lord says Sînge has grown great potential.” He reassured in a soft voice.
    “Potential?!” She shrieked. “You mean my son,” she pointed toward Sînge’s bedroom adjacent to theirs, “is to be one of those — freak — guards of his?! His pet?!” Her face was full with red, and her breathing became uneasy.
    Sînge stirred in his bed, awakening from the bustle coming from the master bedroom. He opened his eyes, rubbing them from his sleep, and looked around. A sudden swell of sobs came to his senses.
    Sînge’s father took his wife in his arms, comforting her as she wet his cotton shirt. “Please don’t let him take my son!” Sînge sat straight on his bed, hearing his mother’s muffled sob through the other side of his door.
    “Sînge’s freedom is beyond my reach dragorte .” The wailing silenced to a silent cry. The candlelight that illuminated Sînge’s room was turned into a dire pitch black.
    He sighed restlessly and reached for his rigid covers, pulling them over his snappy body warming his skin. He felt comfortable under the wool covers, so he drifted into deep sleep within mere seconds.

    “Sînge watch your footing.” Sînge’s father reminded him from a nearby scrub.
    “Yes Papa.” He replied. He crept toward the herd of elk grazing in the clearing ahead of them silently.
    One, wearing huge antlers atop its head, looked up. “Steady…” His father warned raising his rifle in alert.
    Sînge looked around him, taking in his surroundings. He watched as the oak leaves danced in the air around him, and as the weeds bent in the direction of the wind. He saw squirrels and insects everywhere, and the sun loomed downward, proclaiming that sunset was occurring before him. He watched the orange-lit sky gradually darkening in his view, and sighed at the beautiful sight.
    “Sînge,” He looked over, startled to his father’s voice, “see the adolescent to your far right?”
    “The desolate one?”
    His father nodded in admission. “That’s your mark.”
    Sînge looked at his father dipping his head in agreement and he lies down in a position where his belly lay flat on the ground. His father did the same crawling adjacent to Sînge.
    He scanned the clearing for his target finding the small elk grazing on grass to his far right. Eyeballing his mark, he raised his rifle preparing to neutralize the animal. When he was ready to pull the trigger his mind refused to pull it; he thought solemnly about the young creature he was bound to obliterate.
    Then abruptly, the young elk looked up meeting Sînge’s eyes for a moment. He couldn’t do it; he grew fond of the small elk in just five seconds. “I can’t…” he whispered to himself, but his father noticed his struggle, “I can’t…”
    His father’s hand came into his view, setting itself on Sînge’s rifle. “You don’t have to do this fiu.” His father said in a comforting voice. “It’s okay.”
    Sînge nodded, thanking him in his thought. They both stood up to return to their home in Verian. Sînge dusted off the earth on his stomach taking another glance at the adolescent. He sighed at the thought of his failure, but he just could not kill a creature that appeared innocent to him. It stared back at him with innocent black eyes.
    As his father turned to walk away, he paused, setting himself in a crouching position. “Sînge!” He hissed waving Sînge to come to him. As he approached his father, he pointed at something in the shadows.
    Curious, Sînge looked to the direction his father’s finger pointed, “What is it papa?”He scanned the bush, trying to spot anything different. “What do you see?”
    “Shhhhhh…” His father whispered getting lower on his knees. Sînge searched the damp, foggy forest for anything out the ordinary. He saw movement. He raised his rifle about to emit a brown figure, but set it down, shaking his head for overreacting to a small….harmless squirrel. However, he saw something odd about the forest animals there with him, he saw a clutch of squirrels scurry down a fallen tree trunk, retreating inside the hollow frame. He scoped out a flock of ravens fly by him, retreating the other direction, followed by a herd of other various forest animals; but he saw nothing causing the restricted effects.
    Sînge felt frustrated, “Tell me what do you se—” He stopped himself as he saw four lions and one lioness closing in silently on the herd, their assumed prey. He gasped, and turned to his father whom was now going the same direction the lions did. Sînge followed him in concern of the elk, unaware of the danger ahead of themselves.
    One of the mountain loins snarled, sending the rest charging toward their prey. Surprised, one elk was brought down to the ground by one of the loin’s unbearable weight. Yelping in agony the elk thrashed about in the lion’s jaws, and then with a sickening crunch, the elk was silenced.
    Sînge watched in horror as another one was devoured in front of him. In reply, he raised his rifle at the mountain lion and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed through the forest. His hand vibrated along with the handle of the gun making him drop it to the ground. Sînge groaned in pain as he grabbed his hand. He watched as the mountain lion lay there lifeless, and smiled flimsily at his success.
    He turned around and saw a mountain lion five feet away from where he stood in the air coming towards him. As a first impulse, he jumped to his side to dodge the attack, but the mountain loin grabbed his shoulder and brought him down.
    He screamed as he struggled to keep the mountain lion’s jaw a few feet from his face. “Help!” He screamed. As the lions jaw was about to take a bite from his neck, the lion’s head made a sudden jerk as he heard a gun fire from behind.
    He pushed the lifeless lion off his torso, and got to his feet. “Watch yourself fiu.” His father tossed him his rife.
    Sînge caught it with one hand, and nodded at his father. He checked his ammunition; he had ten more bullets for backup on his belt.
    They both turned as they heard a growl from behind. Sînge watched in horror as he saw the adolescent elk alone, trapped from escape. Sînge aimed at the predator closing in, and shot his rifle. He shot a tree nearby, but totally missed his target. He cursed under his breath.
    The mountain lion looked toward his direction. As the lion was distracted, the small elk galloped further into the forest. Enraged the lion turned and pounced toward him. He shot his rifle again, making a direct impact on the beast’s heart. He waved his hand around the air in pain as the recoil sent another wave of pain through his forearm.
    He looked to his right as he saw a lion and lioness rush past him, sending his hair and coat billowing in the air. They were pursing the adolescent. Sînge watched in trepidation as they were getting closer to the helpless animal. He cursed loudly as his body jerked into a sprint, desperate to catch up with them.
    He rushed through the thick vegetation, nearly tripping on a twig lying on the ground. Searching for his father as he ran, he was disappointed to find him nowhere. He jumped over a group of thorn bush coiled together and landed a few feet away from them. Running past another thorn bush sticking out from his right, he growled as it clipped off skin from his shoulder, leaving a red gash. He was completely unaware of the trail of blood he left behind him, but ran faster, determined to catch up.
    He cocked his rifle as he ran and spotted the elk trapped in a dead end, with the predators blocking its way. Pausing, he raised his rifle, and shot at the lioness that launched itself toward its lunch. He fired his brown rifle, ignoring the third wave of pain sliding through his arm while in the air and crashed to the ground, sliding slowly, extinct in front of the aware elk.
    The alpha male roared as it saw its mate lifeless in front of him. The young elk dashed past it desperately seeking escape, but the lion recovered from its lost and leaped into the air with innumerable force.
    Alertly, Sînge tossed his hunting knife, strapped on his belt, towards the airborne threat. The knife made a hard impact, which showed how much force Sînge put into the weapon, on the lion’s neck. He was relieved at his hit, but was aghast as he saw the lion’s humongous body crash into the elk, which sent them rolling in the ground. “No!” He whispered as he ran towards their location.
    He saw the dead lion on top of the elk as he approached them. Terrorized, he pushed the lion’s heavy frame off the helpless animal under, revealing the badly wounded elk. He rubbed its small head lightly with his palm, and at they very moment, his eyes met with the gentle creature’s own. He smiled weakly as a stream of tears escaped his eyes. He moved his hand to the creature’s chest, and felt the slow, deep heartbeat come to a devastating halt. Terrorized Sînge searched for life in the poor creature’s eyes, but found them peacefully closed.
    “No….” Suddenly enraged, he grabbed his rifle and sought the murderer’s dead body. When he found it, he clubbed the lion’s lifeless form, not caring whether it was dead or not. He growled as he continued on beating the lion; by doing this, he sent blood flying into the musty air. Letting out a pool of tears break from his eyes he shouted unintelligibly at himself. Finally ceasing his massacre, his knees gave up, forcing him to sit on the wet grass ground. Now sitting on the mossy grass, he spotted two remaining elk watching him, tilting their heads to their dead kin.
    His voice broke, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Sînge shook his head as the two elk came to their child. The male elk nudge the adolescent’s lifeless body, urging it to life. Nothing. The female tilted her head up wailing to the heavens. Seeing no hope, they both turned to leave, ruefully leaving their inanimate kin.
    Sînge sensed major vexation as he thought about how the fiasco furnish if he had saved the helpless elk. He wished to go back and changed what had just happened. Nevertheless, he was only able to rest his head onto his scabbed knees, sobbing endlessly alone in the forest; he had forgotten about his father, whom was now searching for him, a quarter a mile away.
    Sînge surveyed the dream from a bird’s eye view now; the sight of him faded, farther and farther until he awoke on his berth.
    He swayed violently in his resting place, hyperventilating as he thought about the past that he shown himself tonight. Sînge got up, swinging his body sideways, now perched on the side of his bed facing the door. He exhaled a long, exaggerated sigh, and rested his face on his cupped hands with his elbows slumbering on his knees.
    Several pictures from the previous nightmare flashed inside his mind. He watched as he saw himself beating the inactive lion on the dew-filled grass. He watched as his faced colorful with a bright red. He watched……as he sat there staring at the helpless juvenile elk.
    He winced as he felt a drip of water on his right hand. Looking down now, Sînge glared as the tear dried on his warm skin. Sînge lifted his index finger to catch a salty tear from his cheek. Wiping his runny nose, he felt his eyes burn as they were holding back the tears that demanded to break through. Realizing what he was doing, he slapped himself hard in the cheek for his silliness. But this was not silliness! He thought to himself. I tried…. He swung his head as his eyes let out, sending a massive population of teardrops. Get a hold of yourself! He fumed silently in his mind threatening himself to not shed a tear again for tonight, if they were any leftover.
    He leaned back, allowing his head to recline on his tear-stained pillow, and exhaled. He found himself unbelievingly tired allowing his mind to go into, yet again, deep sleep.