Wren rode on Aldywn for what seemed like years. She had about a few months rations saved with her, so that was a plus. A tiny troblin came her way after about 5 hours of riding under the hot red sun that slaved all the creatures of the desert.
"Ya bah da trey werst gert trengero...." The troblin muttered. Wren jumped off Aldywn and slashed the Troblin.
"Ya bah da bah doo....." the troblin stopped moving. Wren's eyes gleamed with hatred and the urge to avenge her kingdom. She mounted Aldywn once again, kicked his sides and slapped the reins until he got into a steady trot. There was silence. The only thing to be heard was the hooves of the horse kicking and scraping the rough red dust on the desert floor. It was a vast desert, Wren presumed, maybe the Vajan Desert, as Aasimar had taught her. It was a large desert filled with red dirt, and there were no oasis's for miles. Just a big wasteland. Wren patted Aldywn's neck, reminding him that he was a good boy. The lost hills of the Jule were seen on the horizon, glistening, with the sun going into it's core. Sweat trickled down Wren's forehead. She was determined to fix this. As she got further and further to the hills, she saw a troblin camp. Almost 100 of them were ready to charge, with clubs in their stubby arms. Wren froze in her place.
What could she do to save herself from having the same fate as her kingdom?
YOU ARE READING
Dystopia
Fantasía15 year old Wren is a knight's apprentice. When the war starts between the humans and the Troblins, her master decides it's time for her to become a knight. One day, he sends her down to the basement to get a powerful sword, and they get attacked. A...
