Grandpa Bates Who Lived on the Mountain

This was a picturesque little town nestled at the Foothills. Towering peaks stretched endlessly, and the valleys were tranquil and secluded. A path extended behind the town, winding upward along the mountain. The green of the Wilderness gradually filled the view, while nameless flowers of every color made each breath feel easier. The air carried the floral scent drifting from the fertile pastures, refreshing and soothing.

Thorne the Steward held Loren's hand in one hand and carried a bundle in the other. "Your grandfather, Mr. Bates, lives at a ranch on the mountain. He raises a flock of sheep with the townsfolk and grows some wheat himself. You'll be able to live comfortably."

Loren nodded, lowered his head, and struggled to catch his breath. He wore two layers of smocks and heavy, thick hobnailed boots. They were valuable items from the Orphanage, and Joyce had insisted that he bring them.

The blazing sunlight had reddened his cheeks. Loren panted as he climbed the mountain, feeling terribly dizzy.

Several years had passed since he had come to this world, but this body was simply too small. His underdeveloped body and brain could barely support him in doing much of anything.

England in the 1980s was not kind to an orphaned child. Drug dealers, thieves, unemployed youths, and Skinheads roamed the streets in considerable numbers. A child could not withstand even the slightest mishap. Right now, he was no different from a five-year-old, and all his ambitions were difficult to pursue.

As the townsfolk watched the two of them head up the mountain, their expressions became somewhat fearful, and they began whispering among themselves. Neither of them paid any attention.

Once they were away from other people, Loren could no longer bear the heat.

He pulled his hand free from Thorne the Steward's grasp, yanked off his smock, leaving only a single underlayer. He took off his hobnailed boots, wrapped them in the smock, and held the bundle in his arms. He stamped his bare feet a few times on the spot. There were flat stones along the road, so he felt there would be no problem.

"Let's go, Mr. Thorne. I can keep up." Loren suddenly felt much lighter.

Thorne smiled and continued onward. Whenever they came to a steep slope, he still took Loren by the hand.

About an hour later, they finally arrived at High Mountain Ranch. Three small thatched cottages stood on a patch of high ground by the road. The cottages were exposed to wind on all sides, yet bathed in brilliant sunlight, with a sweeping, unobstructed view of the scenery below the mountain.

Beside the cottages stood a long bench roughly nailed together from Wooden Planks. An old man sat on it with a pipe between his teeth, watching the two approach. He had a long beard and gray-white brows, and deep wrinkles etched across his forehead.

Thorne the Steward stepped forward and held out his hand. "Hello, Mr. Bates. I'm Thorne."

"Hello, sir," the old man replied gruffly as he shook his hand, studying them both. Looking at the bean-sized child before him, sunlight fell across eyelashes as fine as grass, casting a fluttering shadow over Sky Blue Eyes. His heart softened a little.

Loren sensed that the old man was paying more attention to him, so he seized the moment and spoke up. "Hello, Grandpa."

He only wanted to live peacefully until he could support himself. He did not care much about anything else.

Afterward, Thorne had Loren take the bundle aside to rest while he spoke with Mr. Bates.

Loren placed the bundle on a rack beside the cottage and looked around. The sunlight was abundant, the plants and grass fragrant. It was truly a wonderful sight.

Not long after, Thorne the Steward went down the mountain. It seemed they had completed the handover.

"Come in. If you're going to live here, we'll need to tidy things up first," the old man called loudly from the doorway.

Loren ran inside. The cottage had only one room. There was a small bed farther in, with a table and several chairs beside it, a cupboard against the wall, and a stove in the corner with a large pot on top. On the other side, stacked pieces of wood formed a ladder leading up to the loft.

After stuffing the bundle and smock into the cupboard, Loren found that the old man had already spread a Coarse Bed Sheet in the loft. The Coarse Quilt was stuffed with Cotton Wadding. Such a bed was enough for summer.

"I'll make you a few things out of wood later. Make do with this for now."

That evening, at the Wooden Dining Table in the ranch cottage.

Wheat cooked in Sheep Milk gave off a mingled fragrance of grain and milk. One bite of Smoked Mutton filled his mouth with a salty, savory flavor, and a sip of Sheep Milk made its slight gaminess fade. There was also a plate of unknown Wild Berries, some sour and some sweet. Loren copied the old man, grabbing a large handful and tossing them into his mouth. Sweet and sour.

Compared to Mashed Potatoes, Roasted Potatoes, Potato Chunks, and Potato All-You-Can-Eat, this was practically heaven.

After dinner, Loren wanted to clear the table.

"Kid, just focus on living here. We'll talk about some things once you're a little older." Bates stopped him, then carried the dishes outside to wash at the sink.

"Okay, Grandpa." Loren felt that this environment was more comfortable than even the countryside.

That night, Loren slept in the loft. He could smell the grass of the Wilderness. It felt as if he were riding the wind through the valleys, skimming over the Stream, passing through the trees, the clouds, and the cliffside. His head no longer felt dizzy.

When he woke in the morning, sunlight had flooded the loft, and Loren could barely remember where he was. The old man planned to make a Bed Frame out of wood in the loft and clear away some clutter while Loren went up the mountain to play with the Shepherd.

During the day, Pete, the Shepherd from below the mountain, would drive the townspeople's sheep up to High Mountain Ranch, where they grazed and drank alongside the few sheep belonging to Bates.

The Shepherd was only a ten-year-old child himself, and he was terribly tired of accompanying that flock of stupid goats alone.

When he heard that he would be taking Loren up the mountain with him, Pete eagerly accepted the task.

They walked along the winding mountain road and let the sheep graze on the slope. Pete took Loren on a wild day of play, rolling down the hillside over soft pasture grass, watching Mountain Eagles smash rabbits against rocks, and picking brightly colored berries.

Loren was equally captivated by the wild pleasures of the mountains. In all his years at the Orphanage, he had never been so free and uninhibited, without needing to worry about any danger.

At dusk, Pete used his Sheep Whip to drive the goats down the mountain, while Bates held salt in his hand and led his own few sheep into the Sheep Pen.

Once Pete reached the town below the mountain, he used a whistle to gather the children from each household so they could lead their own sheep home. Life in the mountains revealed poverty and primitiveness, yet it was also steeped in comfort and nature.

Loren settled down there and gradually began interacting with the townsfolk. Their gazes always carried a strange pity, as though Loren were suffering some terrible misfortune. But whenever Bates appeared, they became fearful and kept their distance with respectful caution.

He had asked Pete about it as well. Pete told him that there were all sorts of messy rumors in the village. They said Mr. Bates had killed someone, made a deal with the Devil, and brought bad luck. None of it was very believable.

Bates would always enter the mountains alone during the full moon each month, then return the next morning pale-faced. For several days afterward, he would not do any physical labor, as though he had become weak.

Whenever Loren asked, Bates would say that after checking on the Fruit Trees in the mountains, he was taking a few days off to let his old bones relax. But he never took Loren into the mountains with him.