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This is probably the most suitable day of the year in Lant.
The early summer sun dyed the distant sea surface into golden like wheat waves. The wet sea breeze blew the boy’s black hair, blew a faint smell of the sea, mixed with the smell of the grass and soil around him, and took a deep breath. All the insignificant joys in the past ten years seemed to pounce from memory. The boy named Donner turned over and sat up.
It has been ten years since my mother buried in the inconspicuous mound of soil around me, and has passed away for ten years. Ten years are enough to make the memory blurred and difficult to distinguish, but in the boy’s heart, that day is still so clear, as if yesterday.
Donner was six years old at that time, standing among the crowd attending the funeral, as if watching the most absurd play being performed. He was like a crappy extra, wandering outside the crowd’s emotions, shocked and cold in his hands and feet. He realized afterwards that it was his mother’s funeral. The child who was crying beside him was his younger brother Richard, two years younger than him. His trembling back could not be stopped in front of him belonged to his father Tom, a blacksmith.
Yes, on that day ten years ago, he traveled through time and space tunnels that suddenly appeared, nor did he jump off a building or other accidents. He suddenly traveled from a modern earthling to a child on this mysterious continent. Everything seemed to be in a state of chaos, and no one knew that Donner’s heart was like a storm in his childhood.