[Sequel to Egg Gets Rehomed]

Egg paused between rows of apple trees and gazed out to where they vanished into the misty horizon. The first efforts of frost on the grass crunched under his leather slippers. The sun was barely past the horizon, the hour early. Egg took a deep breath of the crisp, fruit-scented air and exhaled through his nose. For a moment, he was verklempt that this ethereal panorama of nature was part of his new life and the vision went blurry at the corners of his eyes.

It seemed an entire planet away from his childhood in the filthiest part of Rockham City. It was if his orphan years of hunger and loneliness from 7 to 18 simply never existed at all, or maybe this orchard was in-fact a dream he was experiencing during a night’s sleep in the church basement where he used to spend his winters. Instead of ugly water that coursed through docks where he forewent schooling for coin and scrap-metal hunting, Egg only saw a river of endless grass flanked by apple trees instead of boats.

He pushed his palm into his eyes to clear the tears. Egg did not regret selling himself, although his first master was harsh and hurtful. He recalled the morning he awoke to discover he’d been sold while he had slept the night prior. Initially he was terrified, as rough people have rougher friends. Master Kinbridge was a fine Master though, firm but patient.

There had been some hard days in the training room and bedroom, and more than a few smacked palms left sore due to burnt tea, yes, but overall…Egg was proud to serve under him. Master Kinbridge had taken great care of his sensitive skin and stomach, avoiding materials with nickel and modifying his diet to remove rich foods foreign to a guttersnipe’s gut flora.

This morning’s breakfast was set to be apple porridge with maple sugar from the north. Egg had been waiting for weeks for the apples to be ready for harvest, watching the farm buzz with workers and horses. Restauranteurs and merchants had been pestering his Master for the dates when the barrels would begin arrive. It would be any day now, for sure.

Egg padded up to a random tree and let his eyes rove through the branches, admiring the red orbs and their yellow-ish green tones. Real fruit. Fresh fruit, as far as the eye could see. Well kept property, just like himself. Egg realized if he dawdled any longer, there wouldn’t be enough time to simmer breakfast before Master Kinbridge got out of the bath. He found two lone apples pulling heavy and low on a near bare branch. With a couple flicks of the wrist, the branch was relieved of its burden and sprang back up into the treetops.

The young man held apples to his nose to draw in their scents and smiled as his fingertips lingered on his slim collar. Autumn was here. No longer did he dread another winter. Autumn was here, and he was home.
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[Pictures came from Flickr users. Orchard photo source is here; apple photo source is here.]