I open my bag to check how much fruit I managed to collect for today. Well over three dozen, all still ripe. A deep shade of crimson-indigo with no signs of bruises or feeling of wax. These fruits are a marvel to harvest. I crack a smile at the day of good work. This will put more money into my pockets by tomorrow.

The wind picks up as the sun cowers behind the rows of trees. Dusk creeps in with the shrill buzz of cicadas.

I tie the sack up and put the rusted shears in my pocket, before walking out of the grove. My cottage rests several steps away from the entrance of the grove. Building the cottage was the easiest task that I've dealt with. I had enough money to buy white pine boards and make the frames by hand. The glass panes and stone slabs were also a steal from the nearest village. Thatching the roof together was difficult and irritating. I used a lot of vegetation and straw to avoid a storm. In the end though, the house turned out better than I imagined. I never saw myself as the luckiest person in the land, but working so close to home has benefited me in many ways. I don't make a fuss over walking, the soil is rich and fertile for the crops, and I never have to worry about my children.

Just as I'm thinking of them, Beltran and Paloma, run into the field of wheat with short wooden swords in their hands. Their mother, bless her soul, would've knocked some sense into me and tossed those swords into the nearby stream, but I felt the timing was right for them to learn. Paloma had trouble at first getting a good grip on the hilt, always careful to avoid the blade. Beltran became a natural after the first few swings. When he saw his sister struggling with her sword, Beltran helped her reach the level he's on. Now they strike their targets, in this case crates and stumps, with equal amounts of strength.

I thank the heavens that I'm raising a pair of wonderful, talented twins. Eight years old today, born six to eight minute apart. Both sharing mine and their mother's attributes, full locks of curly light brown hair, dark brown eyes and a golden bronze complexion. They share small patches of freckles over their cheeks and fill the space around them with vivid imaginations. Everyday is a memory I want to cherish until my time comes.

My fingers pinch my lower lip and make a sharp whistle. "Time for supper you two."

They lay their swords to the ground and race toward the cottage. I go around the other side of the house to meet my children.

Beltran gets his third helping of deer stew. Paloma joins him for her second. I can't understand how their appetite isn't finished yet. Maybe it's the effort of a full day's work that is holding me back from eating. I'm still on my first bowl and I'm thinking of tossing it away.

Immediately after we have our fill, I tell my kids to get ready for the bath. Paloma rushes up the stairs and shuts the door. I can hear the lock on the door from downstairs. Beltran stays seated, smiling at me with a contagious cheerful aura. I pray that he isn't still hungry.

By the time I clean the bowls and cutlery, I place the bag of fruit on a chair. Paloma is done bathing as she enters the kitchen in her gown and damp hair. Beltran rushes past her, repeating the process his sister did. My daughter runs upstairs to the room she shares with her brother.

I ascend to their room, but forget that I grabbed a fruit from the bag. I push it into my pocket before I see Beltran hop over to his room and change into his nightwear. Paloma pulls her covers over her legs, nestling into the soft pillow.

"Papa, can you tell us a story?" Paloma whispers to me when I enter the room.

Beltran pulls his shirt over his head. "Please, anything but The Dove and Raven."

"You don't like The Dove and Raven," I give my son a fake shocked expression. He grumbles over to his bed and throws the covers. "Is it already boring to hear?"

"I like that story. It's always fun to hear the different adventures they have together," Paloma wraps her arms around her pillow.

"But all of the stories end the same way. There's no real danger those birds have to face like dirty thieves or monsters. I would like a story where the bird can fight back, use swords or clubs, something!" Beltran jumps onto his bed and raises his fists.

Paloma stifles her laugh behind her hands. I try to hold my laugh back too, imagining my son as a bird and throwing punches with his wings.

Beltran grobbles back to his bed as I think of a story to tell. "The Dove and Raven is the only story I really know."

Paloma reaches out to take my arm. "It's okay papa, we'll like whatever you tell us."

The truth is that I was trying to get out of telling a story tonight. Working in the crops and the grove has worn me out. My daughter's pleading eyes and my son's demand for a conflict makes me cave. I pull a small chair over and sit between their beds.

The story that flows out is entirely new, but the same. "Across the river, under the shrub, are two birds. A beautiful dove with the whitest feathers that'll blind anyone, and a raven with the darkest feathers that blend in with night. The birds woke up to a new day, but something felt off.

"Their guardian, the heron, woke up but looked pale and unable to speak. The dove and raven asked their guardian what's wrong, and the heron answered that he's terribly ill. The raven wondered if there's anything they could do to make him feel better. The heron cleared his throat before letting his voice out. The heron told the small birds of a special fruit that grows far from where they live, untouched by animals. The fruit he spoke of holds special magical properties, and it might rid the sickness plaguing him.

"The dove and raven planned to find the fruit and bring it back to the heron. Before they set off on their journey, the heron warned them to only bring one fruit back, no more.

"The two birds spent the rest of the day looking for the mystical grove that bears the fruit the heron needs. It seemed impossible at first until the dove noticed a blanket of fog covering a part of the forest. The birds stopped near a dead tree, looking deep into the dreadful forest. As they decided to fly closer with little sign of fear, they heard a snap echo in the fog.

"The raven ignored the sound, but he didn't ignore what happened next. Something wrapped around his leg. The raven looked down to see a tree branch pull him back and threw him into the fog. The dove turned to watch the forest around them come alive.

"The dove dodged all the branches that came toward her. One branch grazed her right wing, but she kept flying. The dove finally spotted the raven laying on top of a tree root. He woke up before the tree consumed him into the earth. The birds dodged the trees' whipping limbs and they flew with all of their strength, until they found themselves in a clearing.

"The trees stopped attacking them and recoiled back into the fog. The dove and raven turned to see a tunnel that led deeper into the forest. The one thing crossing the birds mind is the heron as they flew straight into the tunnel.

"On the other side is the grove, the most majestic field of trees hidden from the world. The dove and raven got closer to find exactly what they needed, the magical fruit. They picked at the stem and watched the fruit drop to the ground. They both decided to carry it back home.

"They flew high over the clouds, avoiding the fog beneath them. No trees attempted to reach them. They reached the river and rushed toward the heron. The fruit rolled over to the heron and he devoured it in one bite. Instantly, the heron's colors returned and he stood towering over the dove and raven. He thanked the two birds for what they did for him. The heron walked with them to the river, where he told them to make a promise for him. The heron wanted the dove and raven to never go back to the grove that holds the magical fruit.

The dove and raven are confused, until the heron told them why. The other animals that live in the forest might find out and try to find the fruit for themselves. Some animals may be good, but some may be bad and could use the fruit for the wrong reasons. The heron pulled the birds into his huge wings. The heron told them he's lucky they're such good birds."

I look down to see both of my children fast asleep, Paloma hiding a smile with her covers and Beltran breathing through his mouth. I push the chair back where it was and place a kiss on my childrens' forehead.

As I get up and walk over to the door, a clattering noise can be heard from the kitchen. My smile fades away and twists into a frown. My hand rests on the handle of the door, quietly shutting it as I whisper good night to Beltran and Paloma.

The source of the sound is accompanied with a shadow on the walls. I know who's in the kitchen and they're trespassing.

It's Myles, a middle aged man in fresh linen clothes sitting at the table with two cups filled with what I'm assuming to be rum. He's a soldier that guards one of the entrances to the castle. Whenever he shows up, his facial expression never changes. It's usually a permanent scowl with a scar on his chin. This time it looks like he's smirking at nothing, and he catches me entering the kitchen.

He stumbles out of the chair. "Mr. Ramos, it's a pleasure to see you again. Care to join me for a drink?"

I want to stand where I am, but I know better than to start something with a soldier. Once I take my seat, I inspect my cup of rum. I toss my head back and swallow the bitter liquid. Myles produces a bottle out of thin air and pours more rum into my cup.

"It's been a while since I came for the supplies. How are the twins doing?" Myles talks with slurred words. "I saw them on the way over here, playing with those wooden swords. If it were my children, I'd give them real swords. That's just me."

I don't say anything. I don't do anything. The presence of Myles is forcing me to paralyze every part of my body. He may be an insufferable drunk, but he still holds a higher ranking than I do.

"I really like what you did to your house. You said you built this yourself, from the ground up, right," Myles's speech becomes heavier. "I wanted that when I was younger. Living in the village, finding a lovely maiden. Who would've known I'd end up a part of the royal army. I sure as hell didn't."

"What do you want?" the words accidentally slip out of my mouth.

I expect Myles to react violently, but that never comes. Instead, he laughs uncontrollably. "Calm down. I'm only looking for some time to enjoy my rum, before I go back to my duties at the castle. You don't need to be so uptight about my visits. I remember how you were when you came to the tavern months ago."

The memories come flooding back from those nights at the tavern. The best and worst moments cloud my mind along with the rum.

I set my focus on Myles, who brings his cup to his mouth. "Listen, I just put my children to sleep and I'm very tired right now. Tell me what you want."

Myles drops his cup onto the table, as well as his smile. "The King and Queen are grateful for the supplies you bring them. It helps them, the royal army, the people within the castle. The only problem is the slow progress coming from your end. By next moon, they are expecting the supply to double."

My hands are shaking, but I ignore them. "Get out."

Myles digs a finger in his ear. "I didn't catch that, what?"

All of the words I want to keep in break out. "I am holding my end of the bargain. They can only grow within the week. There's no reason for the supplies to increase..."

Myles move quickly and I can't react fast enough. He unsheathes a black dagger from his belt and plunges it into my hand, pinning me to the table. My other hand flies to my mouth to avoid waking my children, muffling the screams. The light from the lanterns reflect off the sharpened obsidian blade. I don't want to move, fearing I'll tear my hand in two.

The soldier leans over the table and his tone completely changes. "You are in no position to make demands here Ramos. The King and Queen see potential in you to deliver the supplies on time. I mean, that's what you are, right? A fruit-picker."

Myles holds the dagger down, sending more pain through my arm. "Double the supplies by next moon, or we will see that your children will be the first consequence."

He's waiting for me to say yes, but all I can do is nod. Hot tears spread over my cheeks. A puddle of blood splatters over the table where my children and I ate deer stew.

Myles takes the dagger out and wipes my blood on his clothes. He grabs what's left of the bottle of rum and heads to the door. I want this to be over, but Myles turns around with parting words. "Ramos, we want that fruit."

Once he's gone, I scramble to reach anything to bandage my wound.

My body reacts to something foreign, a feeling that's making me want to retch. I crawl back over to the cup I drank from and see it. Traces of poison.

Myles poisoned me. I can imagine the look on his drunk face if he finds me dead on the floor the next day. It won't happen.

I get back on my feet. That retching feeling quickly disappears. I place the cup of poison and the half-eaten fruit onto the table.