(Deleted Scene from the Quest of the Guardians series)
“C’mon son,” Sutton said, gesturing to Ezra as they hiked up the moonlit hill behind the Arh’et School of Hornberry Draw. “We gots t’ find a good place t’ bury all this broken glass.” He adjusted the burlap sack that was digging into his right shoulder.
“Who broke all them plates, Pa?” Ezra asked, dragging the shovel up the hill behind his father.
“I dunno.” Sutton paused to wait for Ezra to catch up. “But they sure made a mess in th’ pub.”
“Maybe they was just havin’ fun.”
Sutton lifted his brow, about to correct his son about what qualifies as fun, but then changed his mind. “I reckon it would be fun t’ throw dishes at th’ wall.” He paused. “But don’ tell yer ma I said that.”
Ezra grinned, his teeth a flash of white in the darkness of the night.
They continued their steep climb up the rocky side of the narrow canyon, dodging around rocks and scrub-brush until they reached the top of the ridge. Sutton turned and paused, looking back over the remnants of the once thriving village; now reduced to the tall winery and a cluster of militia tents. Someone attempting to play a harmonica squeaked out a few lonely notes somewhere below. At the far end of the draw, he could just make out the mound of dirt and rock where the others had been burying the scorched remains of the villagers in mass graves. A shiver went down his spine.
“How ‘bout over here, Pa?”
Startled out of his reverie, Sutton turned to face his son who stood straddling two boulders and pointing at the ground between them. “Is it soft enough to dig there?” Sutton asked.
Ezra hopped down, spearing the spade into the ground with all the force he could muster with the skinny arms of a seven-year-old. The cutting edge bit into the dry dirt, prying a chunk loose as Ezra pushed the handle down like a lever.
Sutton stood back and let his son test his strength against the hard ground, impressed when a shallow hole started to form. He set the burlap sack on the ground and rubbed his shoulder where the coarse fabric had left its mark. Leaning back to stretch, his eyes drifted upward to the sea of stars overhead, automatically picking out the constellations he’d learned to identify when he was a boy: The solar blossom…the water princess…the frog…
“How deep do it need t’ be, Pa?” Ezra strained to pry up a stone he’d encountered.
Sutton glanced at the hole his son had started. It was a good ten inches deep already. “Nice work,” he said, reaching for the shovel. “I’ll dig th’ rest.”
Ezra handed the shovel over and went to sit on a rock nearby, where he paused to feel the palms of his hands with his finger tips. “I think I got some calluses, Pa!”
Sutton chuckled as he thrust the shovel into the hard dirt. “That means you was workin’ hard!”
Ezra puffed out his chest and sat a little taller. “Yeah. I dug half th’ hole for ya!”
Sutton smiled as he pried a chunk of dirt loose, almost as big as all that Ezra had dug out, combined. “I’ll be sure to tell yer ma, she’ll be mighty proud!”
Ezra hopped up and grabbed the burlap sack, dragging it closer to the hole. “Should I untie it, Pa?”
“Naw, we’ll bury the whole sack so th’ glass don’t work its way out an’ cut someone’s foot,” Sutton replied, setting the shovel aside and reaching for the sack.
“I kin do it, Pa!” Ezra grunted as he tugged the sack of glass toward the hole.
“Okay—Okay!” Sutton waved his hands in surrender as he watched his son strain against the weight of the glass, inching it closer and closer to the hole until it started to sag over the edge.
With a final full-bodied lunge, Ezra pulled the sack of broken glass into the hole, where it landed with a jingling thud.
“Nice work, son.” Sutton nodded approvingly as he reached for the shovel and began to push the loose dirt over the sack. “Find some smaller rocks t’ cover the top.”
Tamping the last of the dirt into the hole and pushing the two rocks Ezra had found over the top, he looked up, expecting to find Ezra nearby with more stones. Instead, Ezra was standing at the top of the ridge, his head tipped back to look up at the stars. Dusting off his hands, he picked up the shovel and slung it over his shoulder, then he trudged up the hill to join his son. “Whatcha lookin’ at?” he asked, stopping at Ezra’s side, tipping his head back and squinting his eyes against the light of the three moons.
“I was jus’ thinkin’ ‘bout Grandpa James an’ all the stories he used t’ tell me when I was still little,” Ezra replied.
Sutton squelched a smile.
“There was one, about a bear…” Ezra paused, then shrugged. “But I can’t ‘member no more.”
“The legend of the Bear and the Princess?” Sutton looked down at his son.
“Yeah. That was it.” Ezra nodded his head.
Sutton dug into his memories, seeking the old myth. “Well, you see that cluster o’ stars o’er there?” He lifted his arm and pointed to the left of the moons. “That’s the Bear’s head.”
Ezra stepped closer, looking along his father’s arm toward the stars. “Grandpa said th’ stars mark th’ bear’s teeth, but I don’ see no teeth.”
“You have to start at the horizon,” Sutton said, pointing. “The bear is the biggest constellation.” He knelt down so Ezra could lean his chin on Sutton’s arm. “Here, follow my finger.” He traced the outline of the Bear’s body running along the horizon toward the moons. “The head is here, and these stars mark out the teeth in his open mouth.”
Ezra lifted his head. “I see it, Pa! That bright one there is his eye, right?”
“That’s right.” Sutton nodded.
“An’ the bear is tryin’ to catch the moons?” Ezra looked back at his father.
“The legend says at th’ beginning of th’ world there was only one moon, known as the Princess of the Night, and the Bear was always chasin’ her but he could ne’er catch her.” Sutton sat back on his heels. “Then one day, two stars called The Athistr and The Gaeliht came out of the Bear’s belly and became moons so that they could escort the Princess across the sky and bring magic to our world. But the stars couldn’t run as fast as the Princess, so they made her slow down, and now, someday, the Bear will catch the moons.”
“An’ then what happens, Pa?” Ezra asked, staring up at his father.
“I don’ know,” Sutton mumbled, realizing the Bear was closer to the moons than he had ever seen before…and clustered together like they were, they would seem to fit inside the Bear’s mouth when it catches up. His stomach clenched as he considered the Bear seeming to devour the moons, then he shook off the sensation as silliness. “C’mon.” He climbed to his feet and picked up the shovel. “Yer ma promised us some Hornberry pie when we get back.”
S.R. Olson—Author 