The boy looked at his reflection in the water. It was cool in the early morning, his face badly burned as one of his eyes didn't even open. The burns covering not only half his face but also his neck, the skin looking like melted dough. Yet the one eye that did open was beautiful, it was a light brown and orange.
The boy's head was filled with dense curls. Light brown that laid across his head like a field. The boy smiled at his reflection, no matter how hated he was. Sighing the boy prepared himself.
Walking from the cool pond area, the boy walked into the courtyard and further into the home. Opening the sliding door into the master bedroom lay a woman. Oriental, with long black hair, a round face, and mature figure. Covering her was a dirty white cloth.
"Mother, I will survive. Be at peace, father would be proud that you saw me to this age."
Delicately wrapping the woman, the boy struggled. She was 6ft tall and heavier than he'd like to admit. Biting his lip, the boy cursed under his breath. "They're so cheap they can't even bring someone to burn my mother's body properly?"
Angry but levelheaded, the boy went and gathered branches. His steps measured and gaze landing on a distant rock that had runes on it. The courtyard by a nearby forest that was nothing short of beautiful, his anger subsided. Collecting a decent amount, he carried it back to his mother's home and did the process three more times. Dragging his mother's body out, the boy bit his lip again. Shame threatened to take what little peace that was in his heart.
'None will help a mother and her bastard. Maybe they just see a whore and her bastard?' Finally dragging her outside he arranged the sticks in a certain formation. Dragging her body atop of it, the boy finally burst into tears.
Setting the fire with a strange golden orb, the boy mourned as he sat. The tears and snot ran free. He could almost feel his strong, warrior of a father standing on his right side. He could feel his book worm of a mother on his left-hand side with a hand on his head.
Both of his parents comforting him as his mother's body became ashes. Time seemed to pass like water in a rapid river. As the fire died, the boy looked at the ashes and gathered them in an embroidered bag. Tying it tight the boy's tears dried as he walked into the courtyard.
Going to sleep in the courtyard one more time the boy smiled at the thought of his two parents.
The night was cool and his dreams sweet. When the morning arrived, the boy rose punctually. Opening an expensive looking case he donned a cloak, a short sword, and a whip. The boy went through the house and retrieved all that was left. A pack for traveling filled with the needs of a traveler now snug on his back.
The bag had some weight to it but it didn't bother the boy. Taking out the embroidered bag and a similar looking bag, the boy nodded his head.
Taking a map from his bag, his eyes hardened at the journey ahead. The boy smiled softly at the whip and short sword, looking at the early morning journey, he started.