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"Come along! We're already late!" said Hob's slightly agitated father.
"Well, it wasn't my fault, blame mummy!"
"Your hair was reaching your nose, it needed a cut, not to mention on your feet, it was practically dragging on the floor!" Argued Lilly. It was a fair argument, she didn't want her sons feet getting too heavy for him to walk because snow was getting caught in his hair.
"Yes yes yes, alright alright he needed a haircut, now let's get going."
"That's all very easy for you to say, you're not carrying anything."
"You forget, I have the beans." Hob's father waved a basket at him, it contained their contribution to the party's food.
"Anything?" Lilly hit her son playfully. "Is that what I am to you now? A thing?"
"Of course not mummy." Hob reached down and kissed his mother. "Now, are you wrapped up well?"
"Yes, I feel rather like a caterpillar in a cocoon, tuck me in any tighter and I won't be able to breathe." Hob picked his mother up, he would have preferred it more if he hadn't found it so easy to lift her. "I do hope I'm too heavy for you, it would pay back for all those times I had to carry you in from the garden when you'd fallen asleep outside."
They walked as quickly as possible to the party, they were lucky it was so close, if it wasn't then they wouldn't have bothered as Hob wouldn't have gone without one of his parents, but he wouldn't have let his mother gone because it would mean being out in the cold for too long and if his mother couldn't go then his father couldn't go otherwise his mother would be left alone at home. So all in all, it was best that the party was close.
They arrived mostly unnoticed, except for causing a small chill when they opened the door. Hob put his mother down on a chair, she had made it without coughing once and Hob took that as a good omen. Hob's father disappeared through a crowd and returned moments later with plates of food, one for each of them, during the past summers, Hob would have dismissed these plates of food as snacks, barely enough for elenvensies, but now they were a feast. All three of them did nothing but eat for a few minutes until they had each eaten enough to be able to talk at the same time.
"Hob dear, you can sit and talk to us all the time at home, and you do, why not go meet someone you will be travelling with, get a headstart."
"You're mother's right, as always. Go and talk to someone else, possibly your own age. As much as we might look, we're not young." Hob paused in his eating and thought. He didn't want to make friends, they always died, and what if he died? Then he'd just cause his friends grief. But he saw reason in his parent's words, if he didn't get to know them now, he'd get to know them later. He took a deep breath, kissed his mother and father and walked to a group of people sitting scross the room.
"He looks like he's getting ready to jump into the Brandywine." observed Hob's father.
"Leave him alone, he's had a hard time."
"We all have, my love." Their conversation was cut short by a short spurt of coughing, followed by a long drink.
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