A rare warm wind blew through the forest that covered the chilly mountaintops. It was a rare moment in itself that the mountains that were usually frozen over were beginning to melt. It was a good sign to all the people in the nearby villages that spring was actually going to be warm this year. In a grove next to the small mountain pass village of Tsonair, a father, a brother, and a sister were making the most out of the nice, warm weather by doing some swordplay.

“Come on, Nire! You’re not afraid, are you?” called the boy standing in the center of the grove in a mocking voice. Just then, as if in a game of call and response, a young girl stepped out from behind some trees and said in a strong, defiant tone, “You think I’m afraid of you, Mail?” The girl readied her sword and leaped at the unsuspecting boy, but with beastly instincts, he countered the sword strike with two hidden daggers he pulled out from the pink sash tied around his waist.

“You’re going to have to be a lot quieter than that if you want to finally land a hit,” he said and kicked the girl away. She clenched her teeth in anger, but decided not to let that embarrassing hit get to her too much. She picked herself back up and said, “I’m only getting started here.”

She mimicked her same strategy of charging towards the boy, to which he only shook his head in dismay and said, “You’re going to have to try a new attack. I’ve already seen through that.” Yet he didn’t move from the spot in which he was standing in. It was clear to see that he was confident in his fighting abilities. Nonetheless, the girl continued to charge at the boy, but at the last second before reaching him with her attack, she kicked up some dirt into his face. While the boy was in shock by the little move, the girl quickly lifted her sword for another strike. Just then, the wind began picking up, but it turned cold. The wind carried small leaves and twigs in the air and it landed in her eye. The girl yelled in pain and irritation, and the boy took his chance to knock her down.

“Alright!” Came a voice from behind the brambles, “that’s enough now.” A tall older man stepped out and turned to the boy, “Mail, don’t hurt your sister too badly now,” he laughed aloud. The boy reached out his hand to help the girl up, but she smacked it away and stood by herself.

“It’s not fair, dad!” She began to pout. “Mail always wins!” She began to come up with excuses that were actually pretty valid, “That was cheating, the wind got something in my eye, I could have totally won that time!”

“Now, now, Nire,” Mail began to say, sounding an awful lot like their father, “you can’t get so upset over something like th-- OW!” He was cut off by a punch in the arm. “Don’t copy dad,” Nire said annoyed. To that, the tension that was there previously disappeared and the trio began to laugh.

“How did I do, dad?” Mail asked their father, eyes shining.

“You did great as always!” Their father patted him on the back and he smiled. Next to them, a still slightly sulking Nire was standing with her eyes glued to the ground. “You did great as well, Nire,” Their father said to her with much gentleness in his voice, and though Nire felt a little undeserving of the praise, she felt happy to hear such words from her father. She lifted her eyes from the ground, and like her brother, Mail, she began to smile as well. With their father being the town’s master swordsman, his praise was held very highly by all people, young and old alike, who aspired to be swordsmen as well. However, Nire was most happy simply because being the master swordsman always took her father away from her. She was happy to hear praise from her father and she was happy that he had spent his day off with her and her brother.

“You did do great this time, Nire!” Mail said reassuringly. “You almost got me, but the wind always has my back,” he declared triumphantly. “Also, that dirt trick you did,” he smirked a little bit, “that was dirty.” Mail thought that joke was very funny so he began cackling.

“That was lame,” Nire said, but she couldn’t stop the urge in the corners of her lips to turn upward. Mail took notice and began teasing her, “We’re siblings, we have the same sense of humor. You can’t deny the fact that you thought that was at least a little funny.”

“Okay, okay, whatever,” Nire brushed off Mail. There was no point in arguing with him. Mail began to speak again, “I’m going to become the next Father of the Sword after dad!” Their father looked on and said, “Well then, I look forward to facing off against you in the next tournament.” Nire chimed in and said, “But, Mail, you can’t be ‘Father of the Sword’ if you don’t even use a sword,” she motioned towards his daggers hanging from his sash.

“Well, when I become Father of the Sword, I’ll change that rule. Besides, everyone knows swords are weapons of the past. The future is full of amazing, new kinds of weapons you can’t even begin to imagine.”

“If you do ever happen to beat dad at the next tournament, which I highly doubt, I could never see you as Father of the Sword knowing you still wet your bed at this age.”

At that remark, Mail immediately turned beet red and turned towards their father, “Dad! Make her stop!”

“Come on, Mail!” Nire began teasing Mail this time around, “you and your nightmares are absolutely crazy. ‘Strange men cloaked in shadows who bring forth the flames of destruction’? That’s just complete nonsense!” After finishing her statement towards Mail, Nire felt a large hand on her shoulder. She turned and faced her father who spoke in a stern, yet gentle voice, “Nire, the world isn’t as safe as I would like you to believe. Your brother has every right to be terrified of those dreams, especially with his visions.” Their father looked Nire in the eyes and squeezed her shoulder a little, then spoke to the two of them, “Come on, let’s go back home before your mother gets angry with us all.”

Their father took the hands of both of his children, turned towards the chilly wind and began walking home. He grasped on tightly, yet gently, and thought to himself how proud he was to have such amazing children. As soon as he had thought that, Nire and Mail began making ugly faces at each other and the name calling began. Their father chuckled quietly to himself, but was heard by his two children. Nire and Mail looked at their father who had a big smile on his face and then looked at each other and grinned. They had succeeded in making their father’s day off a good one.