Cold mornings and mead part I

Chilly winds battered lightly on the wooden frame of the small sleeping quarters. The slow creak and crack of the wood perfectly matching with every gust small or strong. Birds started their morning chorus, the sounds of pen animals bleeting, small chatter, metal hitting metal all started to culminate into the sound of an early morning in Lakewater. Asher's eyes slowly fluttered open and closed. There wasn't much movement at first, but steadily he started stirring. He lay there now staring at the ceiling. This was as much his routine as any other part of the day. He stubbornly dragged himself from the warm blankets and stood on the cold wooden boards; creaking as his weight shifted from foot to foot. He reached over to a small wooden table which a few worn tunics resided. Grabbing the black one he slipped it over his head. He took a quick glance at his reflection in a small circular mirror hung up against the wall. 'It's cold...' he murmured to himself, his expression grew sour. 'young Asher are you awake?' called out a woman knocking on the door before briskly entering. Asher glanced over his shoulder in response. 'Yes auntie Rose?' he replied. The woman called Rose smiled lightly at Asher 'don't forget you have barracks trials today.' she said whilst reaching over with a small stringy band. 'Use this to tie up that hair of yours, it will get in the way dear.' Asher took it from her hand smiling 'thanks auntie.'

Asher opened the front door and went out onto the small street. The house he lived in with auntie Rose was on the outskirts of Lakewater. The outskirts was where they kept local animals for the butcher. The butcher was Rose's husband, Gavin. 'Asher dear can you take the barrel of mead to Gavin for me?' called Rose coming out the front door. Asher turned around 'sure but should uncle Gavin really be drinking on the job?' he said with a doubtful expression. 'Asher you know how angry he gets when he doesn't have his mead, do what your auntie says.' She reprimanded before closing the door. The last thing Asher needed was Gavin kicking him out of the house so he hastily picked up the barrel of mead. It was heavy and Asher wasn't particularly strong, even so the thought of uncle Gavin in a fit of rage gave him the much needed strength to haul it down the small muddy path towards the butchers shack.