((Since some people are having a hard time accepting that people write on the blogs, I'll post what I've currently posted on the blogs here.))
~~~Chapter 1
I released a yelp as my feet slid on the wet rocks that I had tried to jump to, scrambling, trying to find a hold. I hooked my fingers over the mossy edge of the slick stone, struggling to haul myself up. My feet flailed below me as I twisted, slipping on the rocky wall below. I let out another yelp as the skin on my foot tore after snagging on a sharp edge of rock, and I felt the warm blood seep out and hide the source of the cut.
The arrows in my back quiver shook and rattled hollowly as I struggled. Finally I swung my foot over and pulled myself up, gasping with effort. I threw the quiver off and grasped my foot with wet hands, my bleach blonde hair slicked down on my forehead from both sweat and rain. I ran my thumb up and down my foot, wiping away the blood. I noticed a small puddle in the dirt that locked the rocks in place, and I grasped some moss from the bottom, squeezing it onto my wound as slowly as possible, preserving the cool liquid.
I threw the damp moss down into the trench between the two rock walls. I watched it roll and bounce off ledges that perched out, sighing with exasperation. I had noticed the end of the trench a ways away while trying to find a hold to pull myself up with. Why hadn't I just looked instead of jumping? Now it was going to hold me back.
Sighing again, I tore off a long piece of my potato sack shirt and tied it around my foot, knotting it at the ends. I stood and warily tested out my foot, pressing it into the rock and moss with caution. It didn't hurt much, so I swung my quiver over my shoulder and pressed on.
I crawled up onto more rocks and lept from one to the other, continuing up the mountain. Occasionally I would find a place to rest, to recover my strength. These periods were only brief resting places, for I had been gone for days and found little. I needed to return to my uncle and cousin, and come back with something to use or trade.
Finally I saw what I had come for. Mountain goats, mindlessly hopping from one rocky ledge to the other. I grabbed an arrow from my quiver and strung it on my bow. I waited, searched for the fattest goat, and aimed carefully. I released the arrow, satisfied with the sound that the arrow made as it cut through the air like butter. The cry of the goat was even more fulfilling.
As I hauled the mountain goat back, I realized that I hadn't even gotten that far up the mountain. I sighed with frustration; apparently going up was harder than going down. I thought I had gone farther. But that was beside the point. I had gotten what I had come for. Meat.
Going down was easier than going up. I basically streaked down the gr*censored*y slopes as I reached the foot of the mountain, part of the spine-like formation of mountains called the Crypts, which were a forbidden mountain range, and bounded towards my uncle's small house. I noticed my cousin outside in the corn fields, tending to the corn with a sort of abandon. I ignored his blank face and went straight to him, the goat still slung over my shoulder, the arrow still stuck in it's side. I stood beside him, my sides twisted with a cramp.
"Anaot!" I gasped, noticing his thin ribs. How long had I been gone? Surely not that long.
"Voltrix?" Anaot breathed, eyes wide. "You've been gone for nearly a week!" I was surprised by the slight edge of anger that painted his flat tone.
"Has it really been that long?" I asked, swallowing hard, dropping the goat and running my fingers, bloody from the goat, through my bleached hair, creating crimson highlights. I breathed out with slight exasperation.
"Aye, it has." Anaot replied, the anger gone as he realized I had lost track. He turned towards the small house and called, "Father, Voltrix is back!"
"Is he?" My uncle's deep, bellowing voice yelled back. He came out of the house, his long brown hair shaking by his ears.
My uncle was a tall man with a husky build. Broad shoulders and chest, thick, muscled arms, long, ear-length brown hair. He was someone that a newcomer would be afraid of, though he was actually very warm-hearted.
He came over and slapped my back with a smile lighting his face. "Welcome back, son!" He roared happily. His ribs also showed through his shirt, though his personality was obviously unaffected. "It's been a while. A week, maybe?"
"Aye, Uncle." I replied, dropping my arms to my sides. I watched as he picked the goat up and slung it over his shoulder with little visible effort. He placed one huge hand on my shoulder and began to guide me towards the house.
"Let's go inside, boys. I have something for you two." He boomed, glancing from me to Anaot. Anaot shot me a slightly worried look, though the worry was without reason. I breathed out.
I was home. But for how long?
~~~Chapter 2
The wooden door swung open and hit the wall, and the sudden sound made me jump. Uncle laughed, and I glanced at Anaot, who still had the worried on his face. I sighed and shook my head, trying to get him to understand that worry had no place here. He glanced down in responce, and I left it at that.
"Alright boys," Uncle began, his loud, booming voice shaking the small wooden house. He slapped the goat down onto the floor by the fireplace. I was probably going to have to take it back outside later. "Come. I want to show you something."
He led us into his room, which was usually off limits to us, and plucked a key off of his bedside table. The key glittered in the slight light that filtered brightly through the small window, and I found myself staring at it, mostly in awe. He pushed the key into a keyhole in a large wooden chest at the end of his bed, and the click was a homey sound. I relaxed, surprised to find myself tense.
Uncle pulled a sword out of the chest. It was a simple sword, probably forged by the village blacksmith. The sword was dull around the blade, visibly dull, probably from aging in the old chest. There was deer skin tied around the middle of the sword blade.
"This sword has been handed down throughout our family for generations." Uncle stated proudly. I uttered a small cough, trying to break the awkward silence that suddenly strangled the room. Uncle spoke then. "It will be handed down to you boys one day. When you prove your worth."
I heard Anaot snort, and I turned my head in his direction.
"When we prove our worth? What is that supposed to mean?" Anaot grumbled. Uncle shrugged, and Anaot sighed. Finally Uncle shrugged past the two of us, into the den, and called to me.
"Voltrix! Take this goat outside." He bellowed. I groaned softly, but obeyed, going to the fireplace and hauling the goat up and over my shoulder. I trudged outside and dropped it, letting it flop down onto the dirt. I turned around to get the knife that we normally use for skinning animals from where it was stuck in a stump.
"Gah!" I yelled. Anaot stood by the stump, the knife twirling through his fingers, his ex
pression deathly. I clutched at my heart, my fingers ripping at my shirt, my chest heaving. "Anaot, what do you think your doing!?" I managed to relax, and I swiped the knife from his hand.
"Your not going to get that sword." Anaot snarled, staring up at me through his eyelashes, his eyes narrowed angirly.
"What are you talking about, Anaot?" I asked, turning and thrusting the knife underneath the goat's skin. I drew the knife down the animal's side.
"The sword Father showed us. I'm going to get it." He growled. I shrugged in responce.
"Whatever you say," I chuckled, amused.
Anaot let out a growl of frustration, but turned and stomped back to the house in a fury.
As I skinned and gutted the goat, my mind wandered. I thought about the sword, it's origin, it's past. I also wondered about Anaot. He's seemed so intent on getting the sword. His death glare flashed in my mind, and I blinked, snapping myself back to the present.
I sighed and dropped the goat skin onto the ground, letting it powder with dust and dirt. My hands were bloody now, and the knife slipped unexpertly through my fingers, slidding around. I noticed that some of the blood was my own. The pain suddenly hit me, and I screamed out.
The blood was up to my elbows, and I was deep into the goat. A long gash tore up my arm, and I gasped in and out through my teeth.
"Uncle! Anaot!" I cried in anguish. I clutched at my arm as they rushed out, startled by the pain in my call.
And then they caught me as I fell.
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