The Twisted Tale of Saffron Schmidt by C.J. Laurence

Author:C.J. Laurence
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: dark fantasy, dark fantasy adventure, dark fantasy book, dark fantasy fiction, paranormal horror, paranormal horror books, young adult, red riding hood retelling, werewolf
Publisher: C.J. Laurence
Published: 2022-05-13T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Saffron was elated at her father agreeing to show her how to forge her own blade. School slid by in a slow, torturous hell, almost as if time itself was mocking her. Eventually, the final bell rang and Saffron was free.

Running all the way across town and beyond, Saffron decided it was an extra spurt of fitness that would do her no harm. Some of the townsfolk gave her curious glances as she sped past them, wondering what had her in such a desperate rush.

They’ll understand soon enough she thought to herself.

By the time she reached the forge, Saffron had just started to feel the now familiar burn in her lungs when her body was at its limit. She smiled to herself and decided it felt good, it reminded her she was alive.

“I’m here, Papa,” she said, bursting through the small personnel door on the side of the huge wooden workshop.

The instant she entered, a wall of heat hit her, rocking her back on her heels. “Wow,” she breathed. Suddenly catching her breath in such humid conditions became a difficult task.

Walter walked over to her, chuckling. “Bit warm for you?”

“That’s insane. How do you work in this heat?”

“You get used to it. It’s lovely in the winter, not so much in the summer.”

Saffron raised her eyebrows. She hadn’t even thought about working in this during sweltering heat waves.

“Did you bring a change of clothes?” Walter asked.

Saffron nodded.

“You can get changed over there.”

Saffron followed his pointed finger to a huge water butt. It must have been the size of a car. Seeing that made Saffron notice just how big of a place her father’s forge was. It was essentially an old barn, the ceiling metres above her, coming together in a traditional pointed shape. Easily ten metres wide and fifteen metres long, they could fit their entire house in here and have room left over.

In the centre stood a huge brick-built pit with heaps of coal glowing red hot in the middle and thick orange flames dancing about on top.

“Is that it?” she asked, pointing to it. “Is that where I’m going to make my blade?”

Walter nodded. “That’s the forge. But we’ve got lots to learn before then.”

Not needing to be told twice, Saffron hurried over to the water butt, changing into her old clothes as fast as she possibly could. She emerged, grinning wildly.

“Basics today, Saffron,” her father said. “We’re not forging anything for a little while yet.”

Her heart dropped to her feet but she understood she needed to learn about processes, tools and vital rules before even picking up a block of metal.

Over the next two weeks, Saffron learned everything about working in a forge, from tongs and rasps to bellows and swage blocks. She watched her father create all manner of things from horseshoes to swords to hammers, her eyes always wide open in fascination.

The ghastly wolf still haunted her dreams, every night, without fail. Dread of sleeping had taken a hold of her to begin with, but now she was almost welcoming of its frightful, monstrous head, looming over her.

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