Chapter I

A group of people had gathered around the fire. It wasn’t particularly cold, but it was fairly dark already. They were all wearing brown dirty clothes that had a hint of fish on them. There weren’t many children nor old people. The oldest of them, a man about sixty years of age, was speaking in a croaky voice, sharing tales from a time where hope wasn’t such a rare thing. He was almost bald, yet had bushy white eyebrows and a big mustache which moved energetically as he was speaking. There was a hint of blue in his beard - a reminder of who he was and where he was from. Though his body might have been tired, his eyes were burning brighter than the embers the group was sitting around.

Andy was the only one who was listening to Grandpa Mussos. Others were always tired after a long day of scavenging the lake. Their eyes were dull as they slouched on the ground. No one seemed to smile. In fact, no one seemed to feel anything. Grandpa Mussos never let it bother him. Every night he would invite his family around the fire and told stories of his childhood. He was the only one of them who had once been free. He was only a child then, but he was able to go anywhere he wanted and Andy was fascinated by that.

“When I was eight years old, my mother brought home a wooden box. At first, I didn’t think much of it. My uncle was a carpenter and I had seen similar ones in his workshop. Tens and tens of them. But this one was different.” Grandpa Mussos looked at Andy with a clever smile which brought out all the wrinkles on his face but made him look thirty years younger.

“Can you guess, what was different?” He looked around as if expecting someone other than Andy to answer or even pay attention.

“Was it the box you have in your drawer?” Andy asked eagerly but then remembering what her mother had said about going through other people’s stuff and she turned her eyes down as her face turned red with embarrassment. But Grandpa wasn’t angry, he just nodded.

“The same. Have you opened it?”

Andy shook her head and Grandpa reached for his bag. He never dared to leave his belongings laying around when they came to sit by the fire. And there weren’t many belongings to leave. He took out his spare shirt which was wrapped around the wooden box. Andy had always been captivated by mysterious objects in Grandpa’s tales and now there was one right in front of her. The box had small engravings that formed a beautiful pattern. And though she couldn’t read, there seemed to be some sort of letters on the lid.

“What does it mean?” she asked pointing at the letter-like objects.

“These are my initials. M and E. My mother had his brother craft it for me. And when I opened the box, I found the most extraordinary thing. A silver egg.”

Andy felt confused. What would Grandpa do with an egg made of silver? Yes, it was worth a bit, but not enough to even worry about someone stealing it. Not when there were Silver beaches in the north where each grain of sand was covered with the metal. Grandpa Mussos could see the disappointment on her face and his smirk turned into a full face smile uncovering his teeth some of which were missing. Grandpa even seemed to giggle a bit like a little girl.

He raised the lid a bit and leaned closer to Andy. “Haven’t you paid attention to my stories, little Andy? For when there is an egg, you mustn’t ask what it’s made of but what is inside of it.”

Andy’s eyes grew larger and her thin lips fell a little apart. “There was something inside?”

“Not something but someone. And still is,” he whispered. Grandpa was so close to her face that his mustache had started tickling her cheek.

“Is it some sort of magical creature?” Andy asked. Her mind was suddenly full of different possibilities. Could it be a phoenix or a griffin or maybe some sort of mixture of seagull and lion? She had heard so many tales from grandpa about that sort of birds and animals but not once had she been this close to one.

“My mother said that it was a bird that could fly faster than the lightning and sing songs so beautiful that even the stone people would cry. She said it would bring happiness wherever it went and whoever hatched the egg would get eternal protection from that bird.” Grandpa did seem like a little child as he was retelling his mother’s words. But as he finished the sentence his smile seemed to fade just a bit and Andy could’ve sworn there was a hint of a tear in his left eye.

People often misjudged Andy. They took her for a child, but she was already fifteen. She had a slender figure which suited her small height and was a complete contrast to her big bushy hair that was so dark blue that some would describe them as the night sky. Her amber eyes were constantly curious as if she was up to something. And a lot of the time she was. She wasn’t worn down by the rules and regulations and other cons of being imprisoned. She had always found hope in Grandpa Mussos’ tales. But this one seemed different than any of the others.

“Someone stole the egg from you, didn’t they?” Andy realized. The expression on Grandpa’s face couldn’t have been anything else but the feeling of loss and grief.

He opened the box to display the empty contents. The inside was covered in a similar pattern as the lid. Maybe there was more text or initials but Andy couldn’t tell.

“Unfortunately I wasn’t able to protect the egg. It was taken away from me the same day. There was nothing I could’ve done. I was only a child.” He narrowed his eyes and his jaw tightened. For a moment Andy feared that he would turn into an emotionless being like the rest of her family but then he forced a smile and his whiskers jumped up like springs.

“I guess that’s why I always carry all of my belongings with me. Fear of thieves. Well, I hope you learned something from this tale,” he said expecting an answer.

“Never judge an egg by its shell?” Andy smirked and her amber eyes twinkled as she felt witty.

Grandpa smiled and this time it wasn’t fake. “I think it’s time for you to go to bed. For all of us, actually.”