Old Flynn turned his head and looked at the white dove who was busy in front of the stone hearth. Pen & Fun & Pavilion www.biquge.info accompanied by a stinging sound, a trace of mushroom soup dousing the bonfire breath into her nose, and then she saw the white pigeon turn around, that look of apology.

"I've got not-so-good news here, two. "I see, I've messed up dinner.....," she said, and took two steps to the side, bringing the overturned stone stove and the smoky bonfire into their field of vision.

Flynn Sr. didn't say a word of reproach, but turned his face to look at Kenny, who happened to be looking at her as well. "Son," she said, "in this world, it is not necessarily the bad people who are hunted down, and those who hold the power are not necessarily all good people. ”

Kenny smiled, but it looked a little distorted.

"Are you listening to me?" the white dove stood up on his knees, "the most important thing right now is to fill our stomachs, but now there are a bunch of - "

"You were the one who knocked it over. Old Flynn stood up and walked over to the overturned stone hearth.

"Yes..... Well, I apologize. The white dove pursed his lips and stuck out his tongue at Kenny, who turned his head.

"Well, look, it took me a lot of time to pick them. Old Flynn squatted by the stone hearth, looking at the overturned stone pot with distress in his eyes.

"I've apologized, nagging witch. The white dove pursed his lips into a thin line, as if he had been greatly wronged.

Kenny got up from the grass and found that his physical condition was much stronger than he had expected, except for the dull pain in his brain, only the left side of his face seemed to have a little skin on his body, and this small wound had been carefully treated. "It's not that bad, at least we're alive. "Besides, we have a nice habitat, if it's not some beast's lair." ”

"Don't worry about that, the cave is very small, and if a beast appears," the white dove pointed to the hole that penetrated the moonlight, "unless it falls from there, if that is the case," she said, her voice rising with excitement, "it will break its neck, or a leg, and it will be our dinner!"

"Indeed, we should worry about dinner now. Old Flynn looked at the white dove with disdain, then turned his face to Kenny, "You haven't eaten in two days, knight. ”

"But I don't feel too hungry," he shrugged, "and if you can survive this, I can go and hunt some hares and come back to-morrow morning." ”

"I'm fine!" the white dove raised his hand and was the first to speak.

"That's all there is to it. Flynn Sr. sighed. She reached out to save the overturned stone pot from the extinguished bonfire, then took out the velvet and rekindled the bonfire with some new branches added to it.

"Can you still sleep?" said the white dove as he sat down on the haystack by the campfire, looking up at Kenny.

"I don't know. He paused in mid-air, then sat cross-legged by the campfire. "Do you hear anything?" he said, looking at the white dove, his voice darkened.

"What?" the white dove pricked up his ears and looked around alertly. She heard nothing but the occasional crow cry outside the cave. "What did you hear?" her voice became a little shaky, "don't scare me in a place like this....."

Kenny pursed the corners of his mouth, but he didn't hold back. "Your stomach is growling," he laughed, "I guess you won't make it until tomorrow morning!"

"Hey, don't make such jokes!" cried the white dove angrily, "it's scary! I thought you heard ......"

"The devil's breather?" he rolled his eyes, twisting his features together.

The remark drew a chuckle.

Kenny turned his head to see Flynn Sr. looking at them kindly. Printed with the gray firelight, the corners of her old eyes were full of wrinkles, and the corners of her mouth were slightly raised, which were carved by the years with deep sins and twists and turns like a chasm, and together with her kind smile, she became as warm as spring as the bonfire in front of her.

"What are you looking at, ma'am?" he asked casually, trying to put an end to the joke.

"You two, remind me of something. Flynn Sr. smiled, "Looking at you now is like looking at yourself when you were younger." ”

"When were you young?" said the white dove frowned, curiosity in his voice replacing the anger he had just had.

"Yes, that was a long time ago, long before you were born. Old Flynn raised his chin and looked at the not-so-wide starry sky at the entrance of the cave, and fell into deep thought.

"Ma'am, if you will," Kenny said suddenly, "can you tell me the story of your youth?"

"I want to hear it too," the white dove blinked, "and though I don't want to mention it, I'd love to ask you, who is my father?"

"Your father?" said old Flynn, his mouth slightly open, as if he wanted to say something, but finally held back in his stomach.

"I'm sorry. Kenny picked up a twig and stirred it around the campfire, his tone awkward.

"Oh, nothing, if you want to hear it. "He's an honest forester, three or four years older than me, with strong shoulders and broad back muscles, and can easily pull a longbow taller than I am." She looked at the campfire in front of her and smiled briefly, then said, "I am the daughter of the owner of a tavern, he often comes to the tavern to drink, but he is always alone and does not want to participate in any topics, when everyone gets together to chat, he always sits in the corner and listens quietly, and when everyone laughs, he will drink with his head down....."

"My father, is he a drunkard who is not good at talking?" said the white dove, lying on the haystack, with his eyes closed.

"No, kid, he's a hero, at least I think he is. Old Flynn raised his eyebrows and lay down on the haystack, "On a rainy night, he came to the tavern for the night, and asked for the cheapest room, which I called a miser, but when the sun rose the next day, I lost his beloved old fellow, an old brown horse of good blood, which was the most valuable thing in all of his life." When it came to light, I thought he was going to be furious, but the truth is, he didn't do anything, just asked me to treat him to a drink, and that's it. ”

"Then he's really kind enough. Kenny smiled and agreed.

"Yes, he's just as kind as you are. Old Flynn turned his face sideways, smiling back, and his tone became softer, "Later, he bought a lame mule to walk around, and the tavern guests laughed at him as a 'dwarf mule knight,' and I would stand up for him, but he just smiled, and never got angry." Later, the rebels looted the town, and he was the only one who stood up for it....."

By the end of the voice, Flynn Sr. was asleep, and Kenny stood up slightly, walking out of the range of the campfire. He came to the meadow where the moonlight had shone, and looked up at the night sky, through the gaps in the leaves, the moon was now three-quarters round, orange and yellow like citrus, and the black-haired crows had rested their voices and perched on a branch.

He turned around and returned to the campfire. The white dove in its sleep has a calm, light and even snort.