The Beginning
All Bedivere could think about was his hunger as he strode through the forest in search of today’s catch. His father had taught him the necessities of living in Camelot. They were a part of the common people, residing in a village on the outskirts of the inner town, where the castle’s strong foundations laid.
Whenever they had travelled up to trade produce, Bedivere remained in awe of the massive stone walls that loomed above, the knights that rode on through the castle’s gates. He’d always thought they lived the best lives, going on adventures to faraway lands and fighting monsters. It was any boy’s dream to be chosen to become a squire.
But dreams didn’t always come true. He knew that now. The stark reality that he was alone, left to fend for himself. His parents had abandoned him. So, here he was freezing, searching for what little food he could scourage. The dark night had settled over, he hadn’t expected it to come so soon.
It was dangerous to be out this late, especially for a fourteen-year-old on their own. He knew it had been stupid of him, but he needed to eat. He couldn’t starve, that wouldn’t have been what his mother wanted.
He remembered brighter days when she would wake him up with the sound of her voice humming as she cleaned their little abode. She would always be singing, it was the most comforting to hear her rummaging about as she cooked their meals for the day. Even his father had been happy, collecting the harvest for the day, going out and doing business with the locals. Bedivere would help his mother one day and the next he’d help his father.
Everything had changed the moment his mother came down ill, feverish, and struck down by the gods’ will. Bedivere had cursed them no end for taking her away from him, yet he couldn’t do anything. They mocked him by staying silent, this was usual. They didn’t bother helping anyone. She’d died soon after, they’d made a small funeral for her, sending her to the land of Avalon, the resting place of the gods and spirits.
His father had grown more distant, spending nights and days in the tavern wasting what little money they owned on drinks of ale. Til one night, he never returned. Bedivere assumed he had run off or done something equally stupid on his way home. It had been weeks. He wasn’t returning, Bedivere accepted that.
He couldn’t live on his own like this, he’d struggled to find anything to survive. Water from the nearby well only got him so far, he’d needed to eat, which left him one option.
There was a loud noise to the right of him, the sound of something heavy treading on the twigs. This had not been the most sensible decision, his heartbeat uncontrollably fast. His ears popped from the anxious nerves gnawing away at him. He turned to face the oncoming presence.
It was just a horse, it was minding its own business. Bedivere sighed, relief swallowing. Perhaps now he should turn back if only he could remember the way out of the forest. He spun around, facing all directions. He couldn’t be lost! He knew this land like the back of his hand, he’d travelled here on various occasions. But it was dark, and everything appeared the same at night.
“You don’t know the way out, do you?” He asked the horse. It glanced over at him and grinned.
That’s a no, he thought. Did a horse grin? It was creepy he didn’t want to think about that. The moon shone down brightly, hopefully, it would lead him out of the woods. He felt reassured if only for a moment when he heard the cracking of bones from behind him. The horse was transforming into a horrible creature, a type of goblin. One he’d been warned about, they ate people. His feet were frozen to the ground, he knew he had to run.
This thing was bigger than him, much bigger. It could probably eat him in one gulp. That was a terrifying prospect, he screamed before his body finally decided to flee from its predator, he was the prey. He stumbled trying to get away faster, but it was no use and the goblin knew that.
Bedivere wouldn’t be able to escape but he didn’t want to give up. He didn’t want to be like his father, he wanted to live. He wanted to see the world outside of this damned village, his hands latched onto the largest fallen branch as he whipped around to face the monster. If he was to die today, he’d go out with a fight. He’d make sure of that.
“Come on then, come at me.” His voice shook as he met the creature head-on, fending off with his stick.
Its eyes glinted playfully, as though it would enjoy toying with its food. Truthfully, Bedivere was terrified. He was only but a boy and it knew that. The noise that came next made him shiver, its screeching cackle filled his bones with fear. It was mocking him. He shut his eyes tightly. If he really was going to die, he didn’t want to watch his death.
