Lucian had trouble entering his house that night. The moon shone brightly in the sky above him, but like all houses, his stood partially in the shadows; looming and unwelcoming. It didn't help either that his mother stood on the other side, refusing to pull back the latch.

"Please Mama, I apologize for being late. There were so many trees…" He pleaded.

"A fine excuse!" She called shrilly, on the other side of the door, "Most of the men saw you with that busybody in the field, taking a load off. Work, indeed!"

Lucian sighed and winced against the pain searing through his back and ending in a dull ache in his thighs. He leaned himself against the door hoping to rest and to force it inward. "That was just for a minute! Jerad is always on my case about something! I worked hard the entire night, I promise!"

There was silence, and then she spoke again, quieter this time, "I shouldn't have to hear about your slackening pace from the rest of this village. Soon, no one will want you to work for them,"

Lucian closed his eyes in anger and knew what was coming.

"Is that what you want?" She quipped sharply.

"No Mama," He replied softly.

"Then get yourself around back and tell your father that," Lucian heard her slip away from the door and straightened up, unable to keep his eyes open to more than just a slit.

"Around back…" He repeated, and fumbled through the weeds choking his way as he walked around the side of the house. Their backyard emptied into a field that glistened in the moonlight. Lucian recognized all of his father's tools and equipment, scattered around the grass like a child's playpen. His heart quickened as he heard his father step from the shadows with something in his hands.

"You should know by now that work comes before wanting to start a family," His gruff, stern voice called out.

Lucian was startled, but shook his head angrily, answering, " 'Start a family!' Platina is my friend and there's nothing wrong to talking to my friend,"

His father moved closer, and Lucian could just barely make out his lion beard in the darkness. It was as golden as his own hair, yet tinged here and there with grey. Lucian remembered for an instant, running his fingers through it when he was little, sitting upon his father's knee. He shuddered for a moment.

"You have no friends," His father corrected, and as with all the times before, Lucian detected sadness, possibly sympathy in his voice. Lucian wanted to call him a liar.

"Nobody in this village has friends, Lucian," his father continued, "we have work and we have a need to survive,"

"Yes I know Father,"

"It doesn't get much worse," His father interrupted.

"And I know that! I only sat down for a few minutes!" Lucian snapped, terrified by the sound of his own voice.

"Child!" His father snarled, and Lucian caught a glimpse of his father's hands pulling at the top of his pants. At once, he lost the will to argue and his lips quivered. The man continued, "It hurts me to hear from that damned scum of the earth that my son is unable to pull his weight around here. It is nothing but a lie,"

Lucian took a step back in confusement, his eyes never wavering from his father's hands, which now held a belt.

"My son can do anything that any grown man in this village can," He walked up to Lucian, his voice lowering with every step. The son met his father's unyielding, unrelenting gaze.

"What I don't like is the truth," He breathed angrily, towering over Lucian, whose shoulders sagged in sadness, "And the truth is," -he grabbed Lucian's shoulder and shook him hard enough that he screamed- "That my son is capable of completing his work and duties but he chooses not to, at times because of his wild, confounded imagination that still hasn't been curbed at the age of manhood!"

Lucian closed his eyes hard, refusing to let tears escape. His father's fingertips cut into his sore muscles, screaming in protest. All at once, Lucian felt himself slip from his grasp and he fell onto the grass, breathing hard. His father put his hands on his hips and spoke quietly, almost calmly.

"You need to try harder. You need to work harder. You're my son Lucian and I know you can do this,"

The boy nodded stiffly and pulled himself up, "Father I'm sorry,"

"Not anymore than I am," the man returned, "but you know it needs to be done. Your Mama calls for it,"

Lucian heard himself sniffle and let himself be pushed to the side by the rough, strong hands of his parent. It took no more than a moment for the belt to pierce the skin of his back one, two and then three times.

Lucian taught himself not to cry out, anymore.