Honestly

"I hate it here. I... I hate you. I hate working on this farm every single day. I can't stand it."

His father's gaze softened. "I see" he said. He spoke softly. "You're a man now. I won't tell you what to do or what to think. But let me give you something."

He went into the house, and came back holding a knife in a leather sheathe.

"This may not look like anything special, but it holds a lot of value. We weren't always farmers. Our family used to be hunters. Perhaps that's why you hate the farm. You have a desire to hunt, to look and explore, not to stay put." Dolph had never seen his father cry, and his father's stony face kept his emotions hidden. But he heard hints of sadness in his voice as he spoke slowly.

Dolph took the knife. "Thank you, Father." He examined the knife. It was still very sharp, and it's handle was made of oak. Dolph saw his face in the polished metal. The leather sheathe was in good condition, but Dolph could tell it was old.

"If you can't become a hunter, come back home. The farm will be here when you get back."

"Thank you." Dolph said. The two men embraced. Dolph thought he might miss this man, but he knew he couldn't back down. He needed to get away from the farm life, and find something that could be his own.

As Dolph packed his few possessions, his father said one last thing from the other room.

"I hated my Dad as well. Nasty. He was just plain mean. I had to leave the forest."

Dolph sobbed quietly in his room. He took out the knife, and looked at his reflection. Could he find a place where he couldn't cry?

When the sun rose again, Dolph left on his journey. He didn't say goodbye.