The first rays of dawn peeked through Finn's cottage window, gently waking him.
He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and stretching. Memories of
Old Thom's stories were still fresh, filling him with excitement and determination.
"Today's the day," Finn said, stepping onto the cold wooden floor. "It's time to go deeper into that forest."
Finn quickly washed his face with cool water from a large clay jar placed near the corner of his small cottage.
He didn't know who made the jar, but Old Thom had once explained it was crafted and gifted by a villager to Finn. It was for him to store clean drinking water. The jar was chipped at the rim, but it served its purpose well enough.
His eyes wandered around the cottage as he prepared for the day ahead. The room was modest, almost empty. Finn didn't have a bed. It was almost the same for all villagers.
Instead, he slept on a simple mattress filled with dry straw, covered by a worn blanket sewn by Mari, Old Thom's wife, and patched herself.
Next to it was a small wooden stool he used both as a chair and a table. On it rested the remains of yesterday's bread wrapped carefully in a cloth, and a small block of cheese that Old Thom's daughter, Lisa, had kindly given him the day before.
"Lisa is really kind," he muttered. "She's a good cook, too."
Lisa was a few years older than Finn, and he had always thought of her as an older sister. She was the one who taught Finn how to read, write, and count.
"I need to find something in the forest and give it to her."
Finn took the bread and cheese, carefully cutting a slice with the same small hunting knife he always kept close by.
He ate quickly. Although the food was simple, it was still satisfying.
"Should I bring some?" he wondered. "I might get hungry in the forest later."
After finishing, he wrapped the remaining food. He tucked it carefully into his worn leather satchel, along with a small flask he filled with water from the clay jar.
The cottage had almost nothing else, just a few hooks on the wall for hanging clothes and tools, and a single broken shelf where Finn kept his precious belongings.
There were just a few things like a smooth stone he had found near the river, a carved wooden horse that Old Thom had made for him years ago, and a small bundle of dried herbs used to soothe injuries.
Life here was humble, but it was home, and Finn appreciated every small comfort he had.
"Let's see..." he muttered as he checked his leather satchel, especially the knife.
He paused, looking thoughtfully at the knife's simple blade. It was nothing like the weapons heroes wielded, but it made him feel safer nonetheless.
"Alright. I've taken everything. Time to go."
Finn glanced around once more, making sure he had everything he needed.
Stepping out into the morning light, Finn breathed deeply. The air was crisp and fresh, carrying the scent of dew-covered grass and flowers from nearby fields.
Already, the village was beginning to stir where farmers headed to their fields, and fishermen walked toward the Silver River with their nets.
On the other days, Finn would help anyone in exchange for some coins, food, or other items. But not today; he had worked enough in recent days. Today was dedicated to satisfying his thirst for knowledge and adventure.
Finn waved to some of the villagers, who smiled warmly and greeted him with gentle encouragement.
"Off on another adventure, Finn?" called out one elderly farmer.
Finn smiled back brightly. "Just exploring, Graham."
"Be careful then, lad. Those woods can be tricky!"
"I will. Thanks for the warning!" Finn nodded confidently, walking swiftly toward the East Gate.
As he passed through, one of the guards stopped him briefly. He was Xabi.
"Finn, don't go too far into the forest," Xabi warned, his face serious.
"Why, Xabi? Is something wrong?"
"We heard strange noises from there last night."
"I see..." Finn replied.
Xabi was eighteen years old this year. Despite his age, he was one of the strongest villagers. His mission every day was to keep everyone safe; he would be the first to confront any bandits or wild animal attacks.
"Just don't go too deep, okay?" Xabi reminded.
"I'll be careful," Finn replied earnestly. "I just want to take a quick look."
The guard nodded, stepping aside. "Alright, but stay alert."
"Sure. Thank you, Xabi." Finn waved goodbye.
His heart pounded with anticipation as he stepped onto the path that led toward the Whispering Forest.
The forest was named after the soft rustling sounds the villagers sometimes heard, like gentle whispers carried by the wind.
Old Thom and the other villagers had often warned him not to venture too deep, but Finn knew he had to be brave. He didn't want to live like the others, fearing the woods.
As Finn moved deeper into the woods, the familiar sounds of the village faded away completely.
The trees here grew taller, older, and thicker, their twisted branches forming a dense canopy above.
Sunlight struggled to penetrate the thick leaves, casting strange, shadowy patterns across the forest floor.
The cheerful songs of birds gradually turned into quiet murmurs, as if the creatures themselves were wary of venturing this far into the Whispering Forest.
The air felt heavier, filled with the rich scent of damp earth and ancient trees, almost like the forest itself was breathing slowly, watching him.
"I need to memorize the route," Finn whispered to himself.
His eyes carefully scanned the surroundings, his heart beating a little faster as curiosity pushed him onward. The forest started to become entirely unfamiliar here.
But Finn shook his head lightly, brushing away his fears. 'I can't turn back now.'
He chuckled at the thought, 'What kind of hero would I become if I always stayed safe and hidden?'
He took another cautious step forward, noticing something unusual. A narrow trail branching away from the main path, nearly concealed by tangled roots and thick bushes.
Finn felt a strange, gentle pull in his chest, drawing him toward it.
"Where does this lead?" he whispered softly, stepping carefully onto the barely visible trail. "Maybe no one's been here for years… or ever."