story part IV

Suddenly Bran was standing alone in a gray clearing, looking at a smooth rock. The cave had vanished. He went home wondering about his father. He tried to ask Gwen over dinner.
“Mother, I...I was wondering about my father. Please tell me about him.”
Gwen turned white. “He died,” she said thickly. “He’s dead. Leave the dead alone!”
“But-”
“No! I will not talk about him!”
Bran angrily got up from his chair and strode out the door. He walked aimlessly for a while, forgetting the cold in the heat of his anger. Sigurd had said that part of his quest was to find out about his father. Maybe his mother could not tell because of Sigurd. It would not be very hard to find out if his mother sat down and told him. No, he would have to find it from another source. He went back to the cottage and climbed in bed.
He and Rhys spent a lot of time together. They flew Kirsa, walked in the forest, sometimes Rhys would come to the moor and keep Bran company as he watched the sheep, or Bran would help Rhys on the farm. Their mothers got to know each other, and sometimes did laundry together. Rhys had two little sisters that he often had to watch. Bran had none and enjoyed watching their antics.
One time all four went out together to hunt for berries. Suddenly the oldest, Eira, came running toward them. Her normally pale complexion was ashen.
“Enid’s fallen in the river!” she gasped. “She can’t swim!”
The boys ran to the water, and scanned it for the girl.
“There!” cried Rhys, already jumping in. Bran ran down the river. He had a piece of cord in his pocket. Tying it around first a thick tree and then his waist, he too plunged in. He had had very little experience with swimming, and was thankful that the rope was strong. Rhys had spent some time in a nearby pond, and had already reached Enid. He struggled to get out of the currant. Bran stretched and grabbed his hand. Praying that the rope would hold, he pulled them in.
All were sopping and shivering and coughing, but for some reason elated. Bran wondered if Sigurd had had something to do with it. It was a miracle that little Enid had lasted so long in the roiling water that the rope had not snapped, that he had been able to reach Rhys. And indeed, he heard a rustling of a cloak and saw a flash of white hair.
Rhys gathered the frightened Enid into his arms and they walked back to the village. Rhys’ mother, Rhian, was working in the field as they approached. She was working vigorously with the hoe, and perspiration beaded her forehead. She looked up; saw the shivering children and Enid lying in Rhys’ arms. She gasped and ran forward.
“What happened? Enid, darling, are you all right?”
“She fell in the river,” said Bran as Rhian scooped up the girl. “I think she’s all right.”
And indeed, Enid looked fine. “Mother! I fell in the river! Rhys and Bran got me out all right, but I lost my bracelet Eira made.”
“Come inside,” said Rhian, “You must get dry else you’ll catch cold. Never mind the bracelet, Enid.”
“Thank you, mistress, but I should get home,” said Bran. “I’ll see you soon!”