Alright, here’s your next snippet! I apologize if some parts are a little vague around Erumend, this actually overlaps with another backstory I have for him. So I’m keeping you in suspense 😉
Snippet Five
When Friday came, Markhoff almost ran into Erumend in the hall.
“Watch where you’re going!” he snapped, “Where are you going in such a hurry?”
“No need to get in a tizzy,” Erumend said, “I’m just going to market today.”
Markhoff’s stomach flopped, Why does he have to go today? He willed his face to remain undisturbed. He didn’t want Erumend to find out about his little shop, “What do you mean just going to market? Why today?”
“Because. Why? Does that upset you?”
“No reason,” Markhoff mumbled, shuffling off. He’d have to wait for a different day. He couldn’t risk it. Erumend would recognize him in any disguise, and it didn’t help that Markhoff didn’t have a wig or makeup or something. He just wore scruffy clothes, trying to look like a farmboy or something just selling his wares.
Not long after Erumend left, Markhoff had been wandering corridors aimlessly. He could try making more sculptures, but he didn’t feel like it.
Already, three servants had told him off for not paying attention to where he was going, and one had even threatened to tell his tutor he might need lessons today. Markhoff paid more attention to where he was wandering aimlessly after that and didn’t run into any more vases.
He saw Erumend, and Erumend was holding what looked like . . . woven cloth? What was with that?
He stepped into a doorway, quietly waiting for Erumend to pass. Erumend was humming softly to himself, completely oblivious to everything else. And they said I was wandering aimlessly. He thought to himself, forgetting the broken vase three corridors down. Markhoff cautiously followed Erumend, careful not to let himself be seen.
Erumend went into his quarters and closed the door.
Markhoff bent down, spying through the keyhole. He hadn’t done it for years and considered it beneath himself, but this was important.
He saw Erumend pull out more cloth from under his bed. Markhoff watched, intrigued. Erumend pulled out a knife.
Markhoff noticed that some of the cloth was dirty, but there were loads of it. Had Erumend robbed a stand? Why did he have so much?
Erumend grabbed a particular spot and sliced a square out of one. He stood up, putting the knife away. He folded the cloth and tucked it into his chest pocket. Markhoff looked at him, confused. Erumend was too much of a goody two shoes to rob a shop, and why on earth did he put it in his chest pocket?
Markhoff faintly wondered if this had anything to do with a girl, but he figured not. Erumend spent a lot of time in the castle, and he was only 15 after all.
Erumend started to the door, and Markhoff scampered off, gone before Erumend opened the door, and safe in his chambers moments later. Markhoff didn’t spend much time puzzling over Erumend’s odd behavior, but when he did, he often wondered why. He had not even the faintest clue as to why Erumend would have so much woven cloth, bring some back from the market, or put a scrap in his chest pocket. He shook his head, tired of running circles in his own head.
Markhoff sat in his chair. It was a cushioned chair, with two wooden arms. He gripped them, thinking about nothing in particular. In his head, he rehearsed what he was planning to do that afternoon. He’d try to make a lion or something. He tapped into his power without thinking. Not that it would do much, because he didn’t have an object to shift.
To his surprise, the wood of his chair seemed to move beneath his arms
He looked down and gasped. The two arms had the heads of lions at the edge. He grinned. The chair hadn’t resisted. And the lions didn’t look sad in their eyes. At least, he couldn’t tell. The lions’ eyes were closed in their roat. And even if they did look super sad, he didn’t care. He could manipulate his own furniture! Why hadn’t he thought of it sooner?
He walked out of his room, deciding to begin outside right away. Why, what if he made a tree have the head of a horse? He laughed as he rushed outside.
The first tree he came to, he placed his hand on, watching as it began to shift. He felt it resist. A strong resistance, like one he hadn’t felt before. Not that it matters. It’s just bigger, and that makes sense.
He thrust as much power into the tree as he could. It began to warp, until there formed a horse’s head, looking sad and pitiful. Not that Markhoff cared, he was too impressed with his feat to care that much about how the horse felt. The tree was alive. It was a living thing. It grew like anything else.
“Markhoff!” Markhoff whirled around, just in time to see his father marching toward him.
Krafting with Kayleigh 