Lindwell--what a rotten city. The people here are all just caught up in their boring everyday lives, content to go out early in the morning to work the fields only to get back late at night so they could go to bed and repeat it all over again. It was droll and repetitive and I hated it.
"Wilhern, get moving! We have to get the wheat harvested before the frost comes!" So, I was caught up in it too, working for an old farmer who had too much land to handle on his own. It wasn't the path I had chosen; this lot in life was handed to me forcefully.
I swung my scythe into the wheat, gathering what I could and bundling it before repeating the process over and over and over. As I laid down a bundle a shadow passed over me just briefly, making me look to the skies for a moment. Of course it was them--they were the only ones who didn't have to work hard all day, because they were the lucky ones, the dragon riders. When a dragon chooses you as its companion you become part of an elite group, the one that everyone wanted to be part of. I just clenched my teeth and kept on working, though--I would find a way to get out of this dinky town on my own.
The day seemed to drag on in the field, occasionally a dragon flying by as if to remind me that I was stuck in the same old pattern. Things wouldn't be like this for me if not for the tragedy that had befallen me three years ago. I was fifteen when it all happened, living happily as the son of a successful merchant. I had all the time in the world then to go and watch the dragon riders play their games: dragon ball was a particular favorite, and since my childhood I had been an avid fan of the Golden Greathorns team. I would go every weekend they were in town, and was even lucky enough to attend one of their championship games one year. But then my parents had the accident that took them away from me.
I spat at the dirt, cursing at the dragons as one of them sailed over me. It was because of them I was working in the fields now instead of as heir of my father's merchant business. As I thought about it I started getting sloppy with my work, thrusting my scythe forcefully and without precision.
After another chiding or two from my boss the sun finally touched the horizon, meaning it was time to go home. But home didn't really get me excited; it was just a shell of what it once was, a hollow reminder of what my life had become. I headed to the old farmer's shack to put away my scythe and twine for the day and to collect my pay.
"You were really distracted today boy," he snapped as I entered the shack.
"Yeah, whatever," I spat as I wiped the sweat off my brow, "Can I just have my pay so I can go home, Mr. Franklin?"
"Here ya go," he grumbled as he handed my half a handful of coins, "Such a spoiled kid as you--you're lucky I still let you work here, you know that?"
"Yeah yeah, thank you," I replied, stretching out the words as I rolled my eyes.
Mr. Franklin let out a snort, but let me go on my way. I was just glad I didn't have to put up with that jerk until the next day.
Walking home on the dusty path I grumbled to myself: why had this happened to me? This was so unfair! One thing it had taught me for sure: I had to find a way out of Lindwell, and I had to do it on my own.
