...so here we are, 8 years later...
Sethe strives to wake up his son. He eventually has sense enough to bang pots and pans in the boy's ears.
"I'm up. I'm up." said Yoozepode.
"We still haven't figured out what to call you boy." said Sethe.
"How about 'Yoozepode' father?" said Yoozepode, pointing to his wrist, to show a wristband that had Yoozepode's name scribbled on it.
"Yoozepode it is." grunted Sethe, "Now hurry up and get dressed boy- I mean Yoozepode- you have an instuctor waiting for you by the river."
Yoozepode put on some clothes and walked outside. The morn was great. Blue skies, with not a single cloud to be seen, and the fresh scent of baked bread for breakfast.
He walked swiftly, not wanting his class to be delayed by himself. When he got to the river, he wasn't suprised to see all four of his classmates sitting there, waiting.
"Welcome children!" boomed a great voice.
"Good morning Sir Luke." chanted the children together.
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Another chronicle of a young warrior's story.
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