Chapter 49: My Brave Hero

Finn practically ran the entire way home.

By the time the farm came into view, his lungs were burning and the back of his shirt had started sticking to his skin, but the smile on his face had not faded once.

He barely noticed the people who glanced over as he passed them on the road, even when their attention lingered on the shovel in one hand and the sword tucked carefully beneath his other arm.

He had done it. He had actually defeated the sheep. The thought alone was enough to make his pace quicken again.

As the house came into view, Finn spotted his father sitting on the porch.

The older man was already looking in his direction, and the moment he recognized him, he stood and folded both arms across his chest.

Finn slowed slightly.

That expression was familiar.

"You went back to that dungeon without telling anyone first," his father called out. "I thought we had an agreement."

Finn winced, but the excitement in his chest was still too strong to disappear completely.

"Father, I did it!" he said, hurrying toward the gate. "I defeated the sheep!"

His father opened his mouth to reply, but Finn was already lifting the rusted sword into the air. "And I got the sword back!"

The older man froze when he saw the worn blade.

Then Finn waved it once in excitement.

"Don’t swing that around!" his father snapped, stepping down from the porch. "You’ll hurt yourself."

Finn immediately lowered the sword. "Sorry."

He pushed through the gate and walked toward him, still smiling.

His father reached for the weapon first and briefly inspected the leather-wrapped hilt and scratched blade, as though making sure it was really the same one Finn had lost the day before.

Only then did his attention move downward. The shovel was still in Finn’s other hand.

His expression changed. "Did you take that into the dungeon?"

Finn glanced at it then lowered his head.

"Yes."

"Finn."

"I brought it back," he said quickly, raising the shovel slightly as proof.

"That isn’t the point." His father tapped one finger against the metal blade. "What if you had lost this too? We can’t afford to replace farm tools every time you decide to fight something."

"I know, Dad."

Finn shifted the shovel against his shoulder, some of his earlier confidence shrinking under the lecture.

"But I didn’t lose it."

His father stared at him for a moment. Finn smiled hopefully then he remembered the other thing he had brought home.

"Oh, and look what else I got!"

He set the shovel down long enough to unwrap the small slab of meat he had been carrying against his side.

His father’s expression changed almost immediately.

The cut was small, but the meat was richly marbled, thin white lines of fat running through the deep red flesh. It looked better than anything Finn could remember seeing on their table in years.

"I got this after I defeated the sheep," Finn said, holding it up proudly.

His father swallowed. For a second, he simply stared at it.

Then he looked toward the house.

"Bring that to your mother. She already started dinner."

Finn laughed and wrapped the meat again.

"That’s what I was going to do."

His father picked up the shovel while Finn carried the sword and meat toward the door.

The smell of onions and herbs reached him the moment he stepped inside.

"Mom!"

His mother turned from the stove so quickly that the wooden spoon in her hand nearly slipped into the pot.

"Finn!"

The worry on her face immediately made his steps slow. She crossed the kitchen and grabbed both of his shoulders before he could say anything.

"Don’t ever run off like that without telling someone first."

Finn scratched the back of his head. "I told Rowan."

"That is not the same thing."

"But technically someone knew."

Her eyes narrowed. Finn decided not to push his luck. Instead, he lifted the wrapped slab of meat between them.

"Look what I got."

His mother’s attention dropped.

Finn’s smile returned. "I defeated the sheep. It dropped this, and I got Grandfather’s sword back too."

He nodded toward the doorway, where he had already rested the weapon beside its old scabbard.

His mother barely looked at it. Her eyes stayed on the meat. She took it from Finn and turned it over in her hands, studying the marbling from both sides.

"We can sell this," she said after a moment.

Finn’s smile faded slightly.

His mother was already glancing toward the window. "If we hurry, the market might still be open. Something this good could sell for—"

"I think we should cook it."

She stopped.

Finn rubbed his thumb against the side of his palm before continuing. "It’s been a while since we’ve had meat like this."

His mother looked down at it again.

Finn could see the hesitation in her face.

"If I defeat another sheep, maybe I’ll get more," he added. "Then we can sell the next one."

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

His father entered the kitchen behind them, carrying the shovel over one shoulder.

Finn’s mother looked toward him. "What do you think?"

His father set the shovel near the back door and walked closer. His gaze moved from the meat to Finn, lingering on the grass still caught in his clothes and the dirt smeared across one cheek.

Then his expression softened.

"I think you should cook it."

Finn looked over.

His father rested one hand against the back of a chair. "He defeated his first monster today. We should celebrate."

Finn’s mother looked between them.

Her lips pressed together as though she were still fighting the instinct to sell it. Then she looked at Finn again.

Her eyes softened. She reached up and brushed a piece of grass from his hair.

"I’m proud of you," she said quietly.

Finn went still. His mother smiled, though her eyes had started to shine.

"We’ll enjoy your victory together." Her hand lingered against his cheek. "My brave Hero."

Something tightened pleasantly in Finn’s chest. He smiled so widely his face hurt.

His mother laughed and pulled the meat back toward herself. "Now go wash up. You have dirt all over your face."

Finn touched his cheek.

"There’s not that much."

She gave him a look.

Finn turned toward the wash basin.

"There’s probably a little."

He had barely finished splashing water over his face when Rowan appeared behind him.

"So," Rowan said, leaning against the doorway. "You actually did it."

Finn looked over his shoulder and grinned. "I did."

"And I heard you brought home dinner too."

Finn dried his face with the towel.

"It dropped after I defeated the sheep."

Rowan shook his head, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Not bad."

"Thanks."

Finn lowered the towel and hesitated before adding, "It was because of what you said."

Rowan frowned slightly.

"What?"

"About using the farm tools." Finn glanced toward the back door, where the shovel had been left. "I probably wouldn’t have gone back today if you hadn’t encouraged me."

Rowan was quiet for a moment. Then he reached over and pushed one of Finn’s damp curls away from his forehead.

"No."

Finn blinked.

"You went back because you wanted to," Rowan said. His hand dropped back to his side. "And you won because you stopped doing the same thing that got you kicked down the hill yesterday."

Finn opened his mouth, but Rowan continued before he could argue.

"You made a mistake, figured out why it happened, and changed what you were doing. That’s more important than whatever weapon you brought."

Finn thought back to the fight. The first misses. The way the sheep moved. The moment he finally noticed it shifting before his swing landed.

His eyes dropped toward his hands. "I still got kicked down the hill a lot."

Rowan laughed.

"Yeah. You did."

Finn frowned at him.

"But you got back up."

That made him quiet again.

Rowan bumped his shoulder lightly against Finn’s before turning toward the kitchen. "Come on. If we wait too long, Dad’s going to eat your victory without us."

Finn followed him.

The table had already been set by the time they returned.

His mother had cut the meat into smaller pieces so everyone could have some, cooking it alongside the vegetables she had already prepared. The smell filled the room strongly enough that Finn’s stomach tightened before he even sat down.

His father was smiling.

His mother was too.

Even Rowan looked unusually pleased as he pulled out his chair.

Finn stood beside the table for a moment and looked at all of them. Yesterday, he had come home covered in grass after losing Grandfather’s sword to a sheep.

Today, that same sword rested safely beside the door, and something he had earned inside the dungeon sat in the middle of their dinner table.

It was not much.

One sheep.

One small piece of meat.

But everyone was smiling because of something he had done.

Finn pulled out his chair and sat beside Rowan.

This was the whole reason he wanted to become an adventurer.