Chapter 1

Early in the morning, the world always seems to take on different shapes. Each sphere has this originality that distinguishes it from the rest. The noon is saturated with joy and the smell of ready dinner, waiting on the tables to gather the whole family. The afternoon is like a passing time of aggression and rejection. In the evening memories of childhood come. The night decorates the earth with a pearl necklace. Nothing, however, can compare to the morning, sometimes when the warm dew decorates the whole world with glitter, like Christmas tree lights. The young sun peeks from behind the horizon, covering the warm flowers of rays of its light.

Hilldawn's routine and fatigue have long been replaced by closeness and hope. This village is famous for its tolerance towards its neighbour. Like a diamond set on a ring, it shines as an example of commitment to important matters as well as petty ones. People at Hilldawn can't hold a grudge for too long. The village is not very big, it has no more than six hundred people, together with patronage services. It is very easy to deduce that everyone knows each other there.

Two main roads lead to Hilldawn, which meet at the square, the heart of the village. One of the roads called "The Northwind" and it leads straight to the city. It was given this name even behind the cradle of the first people settling in these areas, that is about two hundred years back. The name is extremely misleading because the "northern road" leads east of Hilldawn.

The second path leading towards the dense grove ending two miles towards river Ustrav, which defines the border of the forest, was baptized as "Meridian" in times as distant as "Northwind".

The main means of maintaining the village is the forest, from which residents obtain valuable oak wood. It can be said that oak has become a symbol of Hilldawn. People from the city often come to buy various types of wooden products, such as furniture, figurines and the most popular cutlery sets. These sets made with the use of solidified resin, gain incredible gloss and nobility, so much loved by urban ones.

Hilldawn is famous for its beautiful panorama of the cut landscape with fields where mainly rapeseed is grown. In the summer, when the plant ripens, the golden pods are picked to decorate the doors of the houses, which, according to Hilldawn tradition, serves to deter uninvited ghosts.

Despite the lack of most "big-city" improvements, such as a local bank, hospital or other types of services, the village is doing good on its own. When someone falls ill, the herbalist Jaspar Gil is immediately summoned, who knows the herbs and its properties, keeps all villagers in Hilldawn in health. On the outskirts of the village is the only bakery in twenty miles. The rest of the needed items are imported by Major of Hilldawn, Terence Wight himself.

Time in Hilldawn flows longer... as if the whole village was surrounded by a time-bending bubble.

"Can I go to the forest?" Words spoken by a ten-year-old would immediately set every mother's defence system: "He will get lost!", "Will be attacked by wild animals!", "Will hurt himself.". It should be noted that the mentality of people at Hilldawn differs significantly from the accepted norms. There are indeed hordes of wolves and other predators circling the forests, and the chance for the child to eat poisoned fruit exceeds the scale, but at that time twelve- year- olds were treated as adults. The official adulthood in Hilldawn was received at the time of taking over the duties of work on the farm, and since there were never too few hands to work, the accepted tradition was to harden to danger anyone over the age of nine.

Therefore, when young Grisha asks his mother about the possibility of going to the forest, the natural reaction for a typical woman living in Hilldawn would be "Of course!". Teresa, the mother of Grisha and Zack, realized that she could use Grisha's walk in a more favourable way for her family.

'You can go, but under two conditions. One, you will gather the berries for the cake, which I intend to bake after dinner. Two, your brother will help you collect them.'

'But mom!', Grisha's indignation was justified. His brother - Zack, is by nature a surly teenager who, after turning fourteen and his father's death, began to tease younger Grisha.

'I don't want to go to the forest with Zack ... he doesn't like me!', small Grisha got upset. Nervousness was written all over his face.

'Don't say nonsense, your brother loves you as much as he cares for his family. You just have to understand Zack's situation. He does everything so that we have something to eat. He is a hero.', Teresa knelt before the boy, she hugged him tightly. A single tear ran down her cheek.

'He makes fun of my hair...', it is true that a wedding should connect people forever, but words often go against the wind. This happened in the case of Holt Larton, Grisha and Zack's father. Holt cheated on his wife with a streetwalker a few days after their marriage. From the play on Holt's side, Grisha was born. Teresa forgave her husband for the "jump" and promised the help for a harlot, whom Holt played with. Teresa was an avid believer in nature. She felt that the help of the street girl would not only help her soul but also improve their relationship with her husband. After birth, it was easy to say that Grisha was an "adopted" son. Everyone in the family had dark-coloured hair when Grisha's hair colour was more like freshly ground wheat. That Grisha's blonde hair colour was a frequent target of Zack's attacks.

'It's such an age, you know that when a teenager is growing up he has to "shout out". I've told you so many times that it will soon pass. Now grab the baskets and run for your brother.', Teresa gently caressed Grisha's head, then she kissed him on his forehead.

Mother handed boy two large wicker baskets with a wooden bottom and iron reinforcements. The original use of the baskets was not to collect fruit but to store salted meat. It is difficult to say how much two such baskets had to weigh. Fortunately, Grisha was distinguished by his strength at a young age. Work in the countryside toughened his body, also strengthening his mental stamina.

Young Grisha ran out of the house with baskets hung on shoulders. He headed for the old family barn where Zack forged new sickles for the harvest. The old ones have rusted to such a level that it was difficult to recognize the use of this tool.

'Zack ... my mother asked us to go to the forest and pick berries.', Grisha opened the massive wooden barn door slightly. A loud creak awakened a nearby farm with hens, which almost flew out from behind the fence.

'I'm coming, I just have to wipe my face.', the older brother's voice came to Grisha. Only now the twelve-year-old understood his poor position. Zack sounded nervous, it is possible that forging sickles is too demanding for him. Another explanation could be fresh bottles of vodka scattered everywhere. Despite his age, Grisha had tried alcohol more than once and was able to deduce that they were moonshine bottles driven by neighbour Cora. A few years ago, while their father was still alive, Cora gave the Larton family a full moonshine basement, as he said, "ends up with alcoholism." Truth can be treacherous... Cora, despite abandoning the supply of alcohol, never abandoned the habit of drinking. You can say that he only changed the supplier. Unfortunately for Grisha, the habit of drinking went with moonshine supply to Zack, who was too young to hard work on the farm alone, so he began to melt his stress. It turned out that there was only one bottle left from the stock for the whole year.

'We're coming ... *Hic* ... I'll just take *Hic *... shotgun. Maybe we'll come across some fat boar! Ohh I love venison.', Zack stank of alcohol. The smell was so overwhelming that it began to shape like an aura around the boy. Grisha did not know by what law of physic forced his older brother to still stand.

'You have your basket...', he handed one of the knitted rolling stock to Zack. They both headed toward the path leading straight into the dense forest. Their house was closest to the thicket, surrounded by a beautiful garden in which Teresa bred her favourite varieties of tulips.

It was hard to call the boys' adventure easy. Their trip was more like pushing a barrel of gherkins straight up a steep slope. However, after about ten minutes of hiking, they reached the border between the meadow and the forest.

'Ah! This damn forest... I could burn it... it would be better... *hic* ugh...', Zack could barely stand. Grisha stared at his older brother in disgust, he only begged Zack to lose consciousness and fall asleep for a little while. It could refresh his perceptions in some way.

His requests were heard. As if on cue, Zack fell to the grass, collapsed like a stone. The only signs that could confirm the vital functions of the boy's body were alternating belching with urination. An unpleasant sight for Grisha ... to see in this state a person who everyone in the countryside sees as an example to follow.

Grisha sat on the grass next to Zack, making sure brother did not choke on his own saliva. He watched the trees sway in the wind. Boy was glad that he would have to wait for his older brother to wake up. He did not see the need to go back and inform his mother about the status of her favourite, feeling the pleasure of being close to nature, Grisha absorbed with his whole self the beautiful weather and the forest landscape.

"Boy... would you still like to help me build the ship?"

The voice... could come from everywhere. Grisha immediately recognized the person to whom that voice belonged. He raised his head, in front of him, right on the very edge of the forest and meadow, a man stood in the shadow. High and average build, dressed in clothes reminiscent of those worn by sailors. He seemed bald, though it was hard to estimate, his head was tied with a black bandana. He had a sabre and revolver attached to his side on a thick leather belt. He seemed to be a stereotype from the stories his father told him when he was still alive. However, the main detail that caused a wave of mixed thoughts about the pirate's character was his face. His eyes were unnaturally narrowed, he could be a blind man, his mouth swollen and cracked, the shade of his skin took on the repulsive sea green.

"You finally showed up! Sure I will help you!"

Chapter 1 of "Pirates Forest"