Granite sneaked up onto the tree branch that stretched over his sister’s head. He scrambled over to the tip of the branch and started shaking it. Leaves and acorns rattled loudly and his sister jumped up from beneath the tree in surprise.
“Granite!” She glared up at him. Granite stuck his tongue out at her.
“Granite, get down here now!” She yelled, trying to get him down the tree.
“I’m not coming down! You’ll just try to slap me!”
“No I wouldn’t!”
“Yeah you would! You do it every time! And whenever I try telling papa or mama, they just say I’m lying. They think that you’re too good, too respectable to slap someone! Then I get a lickin’. It happens everything time!”
“Who said so?” The girl put up a pout. Granite stared at her face in annoyance. She stared back defiantly, trying to work up her big sister authority but as a respectable girl, she couldn't really muster much up at all. Suddenly Granite turned and hopped off the branch, landing lightly on the ground on the other side of the tree, and ran.
“Granite! Where are you going!” The girl tried to run after him, but a respectable girl didn’t have to strength to run for more than a little bit.
“I’m running away!” Granite shouted, his figure receded into the distance. “If you want to, you can tell ma and pa that it’s all your fault!”
“Come back Granite! Come back!” The girl stared the running figure. Regret started welling up in her and she slumped down upset. Not because Granite hadn’t tried to run away before, but because, for some reason, she had a feeling in her gut that he wasn’t coming back this time. At least not for a while.
Granite ran and ran until his legs wouldn’t carry him anymore. Eventually, he collapsed on the side of a street next to a small tavern. He had a little change with him, maybe he could get a drink or something. He pushed open the door and walked into the place. It was rather desolate and his arrival seemed to draw a lot of attention from the few people there. After all, how many ten year old boys just randomly walk into taverns?
Granite made his way over to the counter, where a burly old man was standing.
“Hey, I’d like to have whatever I can get with this.” Granite threw his pocketful of change on the counter. The barman counted it carefully before responding in a gruff voice.
“Half a pint of butterbeer for the kid!” He shouted as he swept up the change from the counter. A few minutes later, a waiter can up and dropped a mug of butterbeer on the counter. Granite picked it up and walked away with, settling down at a nearby table.
The butterbeer in Morameer isn’t the same stuff that we see here on earth. In Morameer, butterbeer was a type of buttery milk creamed in softly with beer and usually mixed easily to form one of the best tasting drinks. And the best part? It was cheaper than a beer. Cheap and tasty, the best combination. So when Granite sat down with half a pint of butterbeer, he could barely suppress his excitement of having his first taste at this amazing drink.