Sitting on the edge of a large, weathered tree stump—once a proud century-old pine—Spartacus stuck a blade of grass between his teeth and stared into the distance. Ahead lay a ravine, and beyond it, a small river flowed. Behind him, across the field, stretched the village where he was born and raised.
His sun-bleached hair was damp with sweat, clinging to his forehead. His broad, tanned back, slick with sweat like oiled leather, shimmered under the soft glow of the rising sun.
After jogging along the dusty, winding paths and working out at his makeshift pull-up bar, he allowed himself a short break. His stomach already grumbled with hunger, but he wasn’t in a hurry to go home. Being alone with nature was his favorite time—especially in the early morning, when everything around was just beginning to wake. No one disturbed his thoughts, his dreams, or his inner peace. He sat there, letting the warm breeze of summer's end cool his overheated body. His mind drifted far beyond the horizon. So lost in thought, he didn’t notice someone approaching.
“How long are you gonna sit here?” came the high-pitched voice of his stepfather’s son, who had waddled all the way to the edge of the village, thighs jiggling with each step.
“What do you want?” Spartacus replied without turning, his deep bass voice clashing with the kid’s squeaky tone.
“Dad’s calling you. Says it’s important.”
“Did his junk car break down again?” Spartacus muttered, swinging his legs down from the stump.
He grabbed his shirt from a nearby bush—where he’d hung it the day before—and slung it over his shoulder, walking slowly toward the river.
“He says it’s urgent business or something,” the boy puffed as he tried to keep up.
“I’ll be there soon, Styopa,” Spartacus replied. “Let me take a dip first. And you better stay out of the water—you’ll sink again.”
“Then teach me how to swim, Spar!” the kid begged, voice filled with frustration.
“Later. I don’t have time now.”
Styopa dropped his head, muttered something under his breath, and trudged back toward the village.
At the riverbank, Spartacus stripped off his old jeans and underwear, wading straight into the water. Reaching the deeper part, he dove in, surfacing with a low moan of bliss. The cool water wrapped around his body, easing the heat from his muscles.