Outside his home Justin furiously chopped firewood. He spent his anger toward Kegan, Gareth and his father on the diminishing pile of logs. An hour of this yielded a neat pyramid of pieces, perfectly sized for use in the fireplace or outdoor oven, as well as a sizable stack of kindling. Justin looked around at the clean yard, dropped his ax, and slumped down against the back wall of his house, his head leaned back, and his eyes closed. The exertion had calmed him both body and mind, but he was no less troubled than when he had left the field. What were Gareth and his father thinking? Kegan had obviously issued a challenge. He had impeached the honor of the whole family. Almost everyone there had interpreted it so. Gareth had always been so slow to anger. It infuriated Justin to think of his best friend’s father accepting such an insult as if nothing had even happened. And it shamed him that Gareth did not challenge his father on this point. Obeying one’s father when commanded or restraining if forbidden was expected, but Gareth could at least contend with him on this point. The sun slipped away unnoticed by Justin, as he drifted into a troubled sleep, to be awakened later by his own father who urged him to come in and eat just as the stars were starting to appear.