The Last Supper

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The Last Supper Page 4

by Glen Robinson


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  Mira breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the lights of New Athens before her. The forest parted and they found themselves on a rutted dirt and cobblestone road, one that looked like it had been used a great deal. And it had, especially when it came time for everyone in the region to gather for Brindle Festival. When Paris was in ascension people had to wait for three long, cold years before they could gather again for the Festival; with Hector it was four, hard dry years. Everyone looked forward to the Festival, not just because it forecasted the next few years, but also because the Brindle season was the best time for growing and harvesting; between hot summer and frigid winter came a very fertile season.

  Fertile, Mira thought, and shook it out of her mind. People got a little crazy when it came to fertility. It was the task of the city fathers—and mothers—to take advantage of Brindle season in every way possible. That not only meant planting and harvesting, but also making sure animals bred and had their babies, and people, well….she sighed again. At age 14, she was still young, but within marrying age. And she knew of at least two old women who had eyed her for their sons since the last Festival. Now that father was out of the picture, they would be on the hunt for her. As wary as she had been in Helfang Forest, she needed to be just as wary here in town.

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