Seventh Son: Prologue

Dear Mother and Father-

No, too formal. He'd never called them that in his life, and now really wasn't the time to start.

Dear Mum and Dad,

Much better.

Am off to seek my fortune. If not back in five years, assume am either dead or wildly successful. If wildly successful, will buy you a castle. And a herd of those big black cattle from over the valley, the ones which make the best milk and have meat that tastes fit for royalty.

Please don't worry too much about me. Have asked a lad from Oldbrook's farm to come and help you with milking, so you won't miss me too much in the barn, and I've mended the gate on the bottom field. Jon Tanner says he can help with slaughtering when the time comes, long as he can get a churn of milk to take home for his bairns.

Much love

Your son

Caleb

He bit his lip, reading back over the last two lines. He could still change them. Cross them out, pretend he'd never written 'em in the first place. Pretend it'd always said what his parents were expecting it to say.

But he wasn't their daughter. And while Katrin was a fine name, it wasn't his. And dammit, if he was going off to seek his fortune, he wasn't doing it under false pretences.

They'd understand. They were good people, after all. A bit preoccupied with the farm right now - always had been, if he was honest - but good people. And it wasn't as though they'd treated his brothers any different from him anyway.

No. Everything was going to be fine.

He was the youngest of seven sons, he was heading off to seek his fortune - it pretty much had to be fine.

He placed the letter carefully on the corner of the big wooden kitchen table, weighed it down with an earthenware jug so it'd not get blown away, and, picking up his pack from the corner by the hearth, headed outside.

The wind was picking up now, sending waves rippling across the corn in Oldbrook's fields and making the trees on the hilltop dance and sway in the midday sun. The white ribbon of the farm track zigagged up through the green of the hill, as it always had done, but today it seemed almost to shimmer - a stream of silver, cutting through emerald grass and golden corn up to the sapphire blue of the sky.

Carefully, calmly, he locked the door.

Then he grinned, settled his pack firmly on his shoulders, and began to walk.

The breeze ruffled his hair, the warm sun caressed his skin, and the birds calling in the trees sounded for all the world like, in this moment, they were singing just for him.

It was, in other words, the perfect day to start an adventure.