It took two more days before Lietuva was able to stand without pain shooting in him. Even the emotional pain had dulled thanks to his joy at being someone's child instead of just a wandering soul. He was now Toris Lorinaitis, and he had discovered that his new family was actually very large. His new father and mother, Mykolas and Audra, together had seven children, three girls and four boys.

The eldest boy, Valdas, had married a girl named Daina and together they had a daughter named Pilvi and a child on the way; the eldest girl was Morta who had married a boy named Aras and they had two daughters named Gitte and Twila. Their eldest girl still in the home was Ugnė and the youngest was Milda, then there were the twins Petras and Liudvikas and the toddler Marijus.

Lietuva learned that the family had cattle, pigs, sheep, chickens, and horses. Valdas held all the male animals, as he was more young and much more fit and able to handle them, where Mykolas held the female. They herded them together to mate and split the meat between the households.

After a week Mykolas woke him and his brothers and piled them into the back of a cart, their legs dangled off the edge while their backs were pressed against itchy blocks of hay. Toris waved goodbye to his mother from her view from the kitchen window and his brothers, one on either side of him so they would be able to grab him should he fall, yawned and settled down for the ride. Toris looked around excitedly as they went, having never travel in such a way before. "Where are we going?" he asked, turning to Petras.

"To brother's house," he answered, catching Liudvikas' eye over the small nation's head. "We're going to do some work for him, since he doesn't have any kids to do it." He picked some hay from next to him, feeding it to one of the many sheep that were following the cart.

"What kid of work?" Lietuva mimed the other boy, patting the black, fuzzy head of the animal. It bleated at him and he smiled, leaning back against the yellowish wall.

"You know, cleaning the stables, organizing the barn, bundling the rye. Tėtis may even have us unload this stuff," Liudvikas patted the hay. "I hope you're nice and strong." He flexed his muscles and his brother scoffed.

Lietuva looked down at his own thin arms, hidden beneath the baggy off-white shirt he had received as a hand-me-down from his brothers. He was a new nation, compared to Novgorod at least, and he wasn't that strong. He knew he was going to have to toughen up if he was going to ward-off bordering nations. Lietuva's lips puckered and his eyebrows furrowed at the thought: the last thing he wanted was to return to nationhood, it was awful and backstaby and it hurt his chest.

At feeling his brother's eyes watching him curiously, the little boy coughed and picked once more at the hay. "How come the sheep are coming with us?" Toris asked, starting to wind the hallow tube around his finger, watching it splinter and bend.

"So we can get a head count," Liudvikas began.

"It's almost winter," Petras finished, causing Toris to whip his head around in such a way that hurt his neck, "and Mama needs to know how much food to make."

"What's winter have to do with it?" Lietuva rubbed his sore muscle, feeling a tingle in his belly as though he knew what the boys were talking about, or else had at one point, yet he couldn't quite recall.

"Because it's nearly the end of the year and the animals are going to have to eat too." Petras started this time, switching off to Liudvikas, Toris being much more careful to turn slowly this time.

"The Kucios feast is really fun: Mama makes up a fire and we do a prayer for Gabija and then we all share some bread and do a prayer for Zemepatis and Zemynele too and then the girls play games to make them dream about their husbands and we all have a big dinner that we even share with the animals and we forgive all our enemies!"

"And then the next day," Petras picked up again, "we have Kaledos and we go around the town and wish everyone well!"

"See, it's really important to do the prayers because if not then Zemepatis and Zemyenele will make it so the earth is dead and the crops don't grow-"

"-and Gabija will get up from her hearth and walk around the house and everything will burn up!"

A small smile crept across the child's face and Lietuva felt warmth spread through him at the explanation. He felt, all of the sudden, loved and cared for like he had never before. Despite the doom of not respecting them, he could feel his gods watching him, a warm glow washing over the dark that had once been his life. Lietuva felt like a piece that had been taken from him had been returned although he had never felt the misplacement before. "Wow," he breathed. "That sounds like a lot of fun."

"It is," the twins agreed.

The three children jerked as the cart came to a stop. Toris followed his brothers as they jumped onto the ground, dirt puffing in small clouds beneath their feet. Mykolas came from around the cart and called for the boys to gather the sheep before he disappeared into the house.

"I bet I can catch more than you," Petras taunted, nudging Liudvikas in the ribs before dashing off to corral the sheep. The twins laughed and ran around the place, scaring some of the sheep to run a few feet off before they slowly trotted back over to the cart.

Toris stood, slightly nervous of following his brothers' lead and risking his father's anger that they had got his sheep into a fright, so he stood, twisting his hands. He watched Petras and Liudvikas running around, doing more to scatter the flock than to bring them in, but he noticed that instead, the stragglers congregated around him, standing calmly at his side.

He smiled down at one of them, staring deep into those glossy black orbs. He was Lietuva, after all, and just as he knew he would come to worship and respect his new gods he knew the sheep did so for him. Petras and Liudvikas soon ran up to him, panting and resting against their knees.

"The sheep really like you," Petras stated, motioning weakly to the group, "you must have hay on your back." He stood, fingering the curly, off-white wool of the animal closest to him. "We should probably get them inside the gate."

"Here, Toris, since they like you so much," Liudvikas wandered to the side of the house, "lead them in this way, I'll hold it open."

Doing as he was told, Lietuva began walking towards where his brother's voice came from, going inside the pen. He could hear Petras trying to urge the sheep to move even though Toris could see they were following at their own leisurely pace. "Are they all in?" he asked once he had come to the other side; he could see the males through the holes in the wood, hear them stamping and bleating at the smell of females.

"Yeah!" one of the twins called. "Come back through fast so we can let you out!"

Toris turned to face the flock, who had now forgotten his presence in exchange for their mates, pressing closer and closer to him to get through. He shoved at them, whining for them to move so he could get back out. Toris pushed against the fluffy masses, feeling the pace of his heart quicken. "I-I can't!" he called. "I'm stuck!"

Nothing, his calls were met with silence and fear shot through him. "Petras?" he called, trying louder, "Liudvikas?" He felt his breath hitch in his throat and come out as a choked sob. Toris tried once more to get through; he couldn't even see the other side of the pen. He knew he couldn't die, but still he felt the fear of looming doom.

What if Tėtis forgot him out here? What if they got so caught up in their work everyone forgot him and by the time they came to get the sheep to go home he was smooshed to death? Tears sprung to his eyes at the thought of himself trampled into the dirt, his shirt torn open and his back covered in splinters, rings dug into his flesh from the knot holes. "Petras! Liudvikas!" he called out again, desperation in his voice. "Tėtis!" he tried to scream.

Lietuva could barely hear his voice over the needy sounds of the sheep, their calling and trampling, the males urging even louder. He could hear the wind as through it were right in his ears, pounding against his ear drum from one side while his heart pounded from the other. Toris began to yell, pushing more harshly than he thought possible against the bodies of the animals, the sounds growing impossibly louder around him. He could feel tears flowing down his cheeks as he drowned in the sea of wool and noise.

He was breathing hard; he was so very young and so very weak, his fit having taken most of the energy right out of him when suddenly it all halted. He opened his eyes and saw his father lifting him up from the ground. He couldn't tell if he were angry. The wind returned to a gentle breeze and the sheep became no more than a slight annoyance. Toris sniffed wetly.

Mykolas carried him from the pen, setting him down on the ground. Petras and Liudvikas stood nearby, looking utterly guilty, and Valdas looked on, leaning against the house. Toris sniffed again and wiped at his eyes, trying not to make any sounds of crying as Mykolas closed and locked the gate.

"Toris, I think you might be too young," his father said gently. "You should go wait in the house." And with that, his family turned back to the cart to start unloading.

Toris felt his heart rip at the words and fresh tears sprung to his eyes. He had wanted so dearly to help, to show his brothers he could work and be a family member. A choked sob escaped from his throat and the image of Novgorod's attack crossed his mind again. Lietuva half wished the man had killed him. The boy ran into his eldest brother's house, the wooden floors creaking in protest. Toris sat on one of the benches by the fireplace and he cried into his hands, drowning in a sea of morbid thoughts and painful humiliation.

He heard the floor shift again and soon a thin hand was placed on his back. "Labas, little one." Toris looked up at who he could only assume was Valdas' wife; she was quiet pregnant after all. "Why do you weep? What is troubling you?" She sat next to him, holding her swollen stomach as she did.

Toris dried his eyes and rubbed at his dripping nose. "I'm not good enough," he stated, feeling his heart leap and tear again. "I'm a stupid useless. I'm not a good Lietuva and I'm not a good Toris so I should just stop. I couldn't even put the sheep away! I should just go back to the castle and see if I can get Mindaugas to s-sign the country over so then I don't have to do stuff anymore." Lietuva felt another bought of sobbing come over him and he pressed his palms against his eyeballs.

Adrenaline pounded through his veins which did nothing to make him feel better. Lietuva felt anxious, restless, like he needed to run and run and run just as far as he could and, when he could go no further, fall to the ground and die. Every other second was filled with thoughts of Novgorod and ghost pain ripped through his body while emotional pain flooded his eyes and every other-other second was filled with the embarrassment of how he had just conducted himself.

He had come to this home to prove to his father he could be a good son, he was worthy of being a son, to prove to the man caring for him was the best plan of action and to not throw him away. But he had failed and now Toris just wanted to run; these were humans, they would not follow, they had no obligation to try and track him down and drag him back and Lietuva knew it was only a matter of time before Novgorod found him and brought him back to the castle.

Staying or going, both options caused fear to clench his stomach and his heart.

The woman did not leave, though, Daina's gentle hand caressed his back and she breathed quiet, soothing sounds in his ear. "Now, now, child," she said, not at all fazed by the boy's hysteric, rambling words, "you are just upset. I'm sure you are a good Lietuviškai, and I bet you are a fine Toris – Toris, is that your name? I know you are my husband's brother, yet I have not met you before. Where have you been these years?"

Toris looked up at her, she smiled in amusement at his messy face and handed him a kerchief. He dried himself and careful thought of his answer: his mother had not believed him, why should this woman? All that the humans saw was a freighted, confused, four year old boy, they did not see their newly formed country, they did not see the noble influence, they did not see rye in his hair and rue in his skin, they did not see forests in his eyes and rivers in his tears. "They found me," Toris answered simply.

"Mmm," Diana hummed contemplatively. She stood with a grunt and went to the fire, gently poking the ash back into place. "So you are a new child, a lost child? Where are your parents? I'm sure they miss you." A cup of murky water sat at the foot of the flames and she picked it up, returning the way she came. "Why did they lose you? Or did you leave?" She returned moments later with the cup clean and new water sloshing within it. Diana sat the cup back down and whispered into the crackle: "Bathe and rest, Fiery One."

Toris watched her motions with great interest and forgot he had been asked any questions until she returned to her seat and looked at him with a warm smile and quiet expectance.

"I never had another family," he said, looking at his feet then back up at the orange as it danced within the hearth. "I never lived any place, Tėtis found me in the forest." It wasn't a total lie as Lietuva truly had never called the palace his home and had never felt the sort of acceptance he did now. Mindaugas was the ruler, the uniter of Lietuva. If Toris wanted to think that way, he could certainly say the man was his father, but the mere idea filled him with disgust. Mindaugas treated the boy as a servant in the home, said he should be standing by to be ready to jump up and fetch this or do that or agree whole-heartedly with everything his ruler said.

Diana pet through his hair, turning his head so that they could look eye to eye. "Well you are home now, little one." She smiled and kisses him on the forehead. "Would you like to help me in the kitchen? Tėtis and you boys will be gone by midday and even though my family is small, I still have to take time to make their meals." She stood and offered him a hand.

Toris took it readily, it was another chance to be helpful and he wasn't going to let it slip away. He followed and pulled a stool up to the table where Diana began setting out vegetables and dried meat. Toris looked over everything, noting how the plants felt in his hands, the weight, the texture. He felt from one end to the next and examined the grain of each before lining them up. He smiled down at the knives set before him looked over his shoulder at Diana as she brought embers from the other room into the kitchen's hearth.

Lietuva picked up each of the knives in turn and studied them much as he did the vegetables, finally picking one that felt good against his small, soft palm. When Diana brought over a bucket of water he helped her wash the knives and vegetables and helped her cut them into chunks for stew.

The sun was starting to sink and was nearly halfway to the horizon when Toris was sitting back between his dirty and tired brother in the now empty cart. The sheep bleated along, huffing and trying to nip the pieces of fallen hay from the trip to Valdas' home. Toris stared up at the bright blue sky, listening to the breeze, a wide smile plastered on his face. The words of praise at his skill with a knife were still ringing in his ears and for the first time in his short life, Lietuva felt proud of something he had done.

Historical Notes:

• "tėtis", Lithuanian for "papa"; "labas", Lithuanian for "hello"; "Lietuviškai", Lithuanian for "Lithuanian"
• Kucios and Kaledos; pagan-Lithuanian Winter Solstice/New Years holidays [www dot infinityfoundation dot com front slash mandala front slash h_es front slash h_es_trink_i_fire_frameset dot htm]
• Gabija, pagan-Lithuanian Goddess of fire; Zemepatis, God of the homestead and Zemyenele, Mother Earth Goddess, sister of Zemepatis [see above]