By the time Davn and Brask had rounded the bluff, the winds were already blowing in the storm's vanguard in the form of a mist and drizzle. On the other side was the village they called home. It was a small settlement squeezed into an even smaller space between two cliff faces and the natural harbor they formed. The buildings were a haphazard collection of sunken plank walls and sod roofs which almost disappeared into the landscape. Outside of the first such home along the path, a familiar landmark which they'd both passed innumerable times was waiting for them.
At a distance it could have been mistaken for another of the guano encrusted rocks along the bluffs. As they drew closer, however, the blur of gray and white streaks resolved themselves into mass of stringy and tangled fur, though the odor still said otherwise. The unkempt thicket's owner was sitting on the worn log bench outside his home, propped up on simple, rough hewn cane. His perfect stillness complemented the illusion until he stirred at the sound of the brothers' approach.
"Is that two pairs of feet I hear?" Akim said with a cock of the head. His mouth parted in a slack smile that was more gum than tooth.
"Yes, Akim," replied Brask. Both he and Davn came to a halt in front of the old man and his bench. Out of habit, they both returned his smile, even though they knew well that Akim would never see them through his clouded eyes.
"Good, good," said Akim, nodding lazily. "You made better time than I thought, good to see you're not lollygagging. And you Davn, how many puffins did you snag". He sniffed the air curiously. "I don't smell anything." A knowing smile crept onto his face. "Slacking off again?" Davn confirmed Akim's suspicions by holding his tongue until Akim continued. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me." A hacking laughter rose in the back of his throat before quickly turning into an alarming cough that sounded as if his lungs were attempting to liberate themselves from his torso.
"Akim! Are you okay?" Davn burst out in shock. Akim nodded and waved Davn away through the dying throes of his fit, punctuating each outburst with a thud of his cane. Unconvinced, Davn continued anyway. "Why are you still outside? You should get inside before you're soaked." Akim's waving grew more energetic as he found his voice again.
"Bah, you sound like my granddaughter! You're a sweet boy to worry but don't stick your muzzle where it doesn't belong. Just cause I'm old doesn't mean I'm any less healthy than either of you. Heh, speaking of which..." He dropped his voice and leaned in conspiratorially even though he'd already told what he was about to say to Davn and every other boy in the village who'd made the mistake of staying to long to chat. "She's around your age, not spoken for, my granddaughter that is. Maybe I can introduce you two, let you, heh, hit it off together." He finished with fleshy grin that amplified Davn's already severe discomfort. Brask smirked as his brother shifted and smiled awkwardly.
"Thank you Akim," he replied with as much sincerity as he could manufacture. "But I've already had the pleasure. And you know my father would never let us marry anyone in your clan." The statement earned the expected but less unsettling snort of derision from Akim.
"Do I look like I care what your father thinks? Not. One. Bit!" He emphasized each word with a strike of his cane against the bench. "They should've never made him village foreman, I don't know what they were thinking. A bit of power and he thinks he can tell me what to do. Well I've been here for 151 years, longer than anyone! I've known your father since he was a babe and I can tell you he shit himself the same as anyone else once." Davn cringed at the unfiltered and loud criticism of his father, but Brask just shook his head.
"Last time you told that story you were 147," he said with a light chuckle.
"I've had a few birthdays since then," Akim snapped back.
"It was two days ago."
"There isn't any rule saying a man can't have more than one birthday in a year," retorted Akim. Brask shrugged.
"Never heard of one either I suppose."
"Dᴀᴠɴ!"
The shout broke louder than any thunder from the oncoming storm ever could. Brask's smile dried up instantly. Davn felt his heart drop and his stomach roll as he turned his head towards the man calling his name.
"Ugly" was the word everyone in the village used to describe Davn's father Garen. But never within earshot of him, because "frightening" was the other word that everyone used. The numerous duels and outright brawls in which he'd earned the reputation had left his muzzle visibly misshapen and scarred. That damage was such that one of his lower canines always stuck out in a display of perpetual aggression that matched his attitude. His left ear was crumpled, and a plethora of more scars riddled his face and chest. Garen, however, bore the deformities not with shame but with pride as trophies of battles fought and won. Davn knew the story behind at least six or seven of his father's scars now, having been regaled with their tales so many times. They also served as a warning to rivals with more courage than sense, as did the falchion he always wore at his side.
"F-f-father!" Davn managed to squeak out. He could see his father's displeasure in his purposeful gait as he strode up the path to them. It had been what Davn expected, but he'd hoped he wouldn't have to face it until he was back at home where his mother's presence would stave off the worst.
"Where have you been?" demanded Garen. His head turned towards Brask. "You as well. I need you both at the docks to prepare for the storm. Did you even catch any puffins?" He glared at where he had expected a bundle of birds in his son's hand. Davn's began to stammer out an excuse but Brask spoke first.
"It's not his fault, father, the puffins are all hunkered down for the storm already." Davn had to suppress his surprise before it showed on his face. Garen did not look any happier.
"Then you should come straight back. Instead you're still up here wasting time talking to—" He glanced at Akim and wrinkled his nose in disgust. "—the village lunatic." Akim retaliated by spitting at Garen's feet.
"You're one to talk, Snaggletooth." Garen's grip tightened on his falchion.
"Don't try me old man," he snarled. Akim just laughed at the futile threat. He'd learned decades ago that being the oldest person in the village afforded certain privileges and had no scruples about abusing them at every opportunity.
"Or what, you're going to kill a hundred year old man? Ooh yes, our brave, beloved foreman, keeping us safe from the ravages of the senile and infirm."
"I know some mothers and daughters who'd see it that way, lecherous goat." Akim simply continued to cackle without saying anything. For a few dreadful seconds the brothers watched, wondering if this would be the time their father went through with it. When Garen's grip on the hilt of his blade finally slackened, Davn could feel his whole body do the same with it.
"Davn, Brask, let's go," Garen said and, without waiting to see if they were following, immediately turned and began to stomp away at a heated pace. Davn and Brask hustled after him while in the background Akim's laughter turned into a second fit of coughing and wheezing.
