by K. E. Mills
Da looked up from brooding into his soup bowl. “Aye, sprat. Y’know you can.”
He felt Mama’s eyes on him, even though she was spooning mashed-up sweet pickles into the baby. “Da, don’t you want anyone going over the mountains? Not ever?”
“No,” said Da, and shook his head hard. “Ain’t no point, Rafe. Everythin’ we could ever want or need, we got right here in Lur.” He looked at Mama, smiling a little bit, with his eyes all warm ’cause he loved her so much. Da riled fast, but he cooled down fast too. “We got family and friends and food for the table. What else do we need, that we got to risk ourselves over them mountains to find?”
Rafel put down his spoon. Da was a hero, everyone said so. Darran wasn’t the only one who told him stories. Da hated to hear folk say it, his face went scowly enough to bust glass, but it was true. Da was a hero and he knew everything about everything…
But I don’t believe him. Not about this.
Oh, it was an awful thing to think. But it was true. Da was wrong. There was something to find beyond the mountains, he knew it—and one day, he’d go. He’d find out what was there.
Then I’ll be a hero too. I’ll be Rafe the Bold, the great Olken explorer. I’ll do something special for Lur, just like my da.