Wanderers of the Grasslands

Chapter 1. Hot Months

The bright dazzling blue sky was something to behold as we walked along the winding dirt path that led to the edge of the large and somewhat secluded estate. It was what felt like decades until any one of us, a group of three, spoke. Earlier that day we had been exploring the ruins of an old garage and it had been amusing at first. We had found it many weeks ago and had been planning the glorious event since...well last week. But it hadn't exactly gone to plan.
I stopped at the rickety wooden fence that created a physical barrier between the Main House's land and farms.
"Listen, guys," I spoke. There were indeed three of us, including me, and we all lived in the farmland alongside the rest of the community. "It was okay. It was only a tiny error-"
"Oh shut up," Started Hothead, a nickname for the angriest boy of the group. "Listen, guys. We risked everything there. Rodent could have died." We looked to the shortest and most nimble of our group, Rodent, who had cropped brown hair and bright eyes like the sky. He was around 5'5 foot and his father worked as a mechanic for the farmland.
"Listen, Hothead. Rodent got out of the way. Don't get your overalls in a twist." I shot back. We knew it had been risky to go exploring. But fighting wasn't going to do any good.
"Oh here we go, ladies and gentlemen, we have Scrubs, once again, creating conflict in the group." My nickname was Scrubs on account of my serious ability to earn money by cleaning machinery, using, sponges. It wasn't the greatest plot to earn money but I was a lot richer than any of the kids my age in the Farmlands.
We stood there for a moment longer, bickering, before Rodent eventually silenced us with his report of the time. "Guys we've got thirty minutes until lunch, why don't we just call it quits and head into Main House. I waited for Hothead's response. He grudgingly accepted and we moved away from the fence and back into a copse of large oak trees.

Main House stood at the centre of the eighty kilometres we called The Farmlands. It was rickety and had been here since anyone could remember. It was roughly three stories high though there were so many extensions and reattachments clinging on by wooden pillars that no one knew the true amount of rooms.
Main House was made mostly from oak trees from around the forests and it was a large and grand structure. Housing the leader of the Farmlands, everyone went to the church attached to the side. I have to say, growing up in the Farmlands, it was my favourite building because of its unnatural look. The houses in the Farmlands are all separated by large plots of land where everyone tends to their own crops and at the end of the year, puts in their cut for the 'Great Harvest', but here, everyone is with everyone and it is the centre of life in the Farmlands.

The Lunch Time Bell struck as we were making our way up the stone steps to the front doors and I spotted my parents talking to our neighbours. Paying no attention, we walked through and into the large hall where about a hundred and twenty people, or so, sat at long wooden benches scoffing down various types of food. I sat opposite Rodent and Hothead went to fetch his younger brother, Wildfire. The tables were arranged so that the large and grand windows could let in the light and everyone could see each other without the use of the expensive gas lighting only a small percentage of the Farmland population were able to use.
"Rodent, I'm sorry," I stated as he tucked into a baked potato. There was the hum of chat from many other people so I had trouble hearing Rodent's reply.
"Listen, Scrubs. Hothead is just protective. You know what happened to his brother, Horsey." Rodent said with a mouth half full of steak. I studied him for a while, to try and figure out his emotions before I remembered the incident. It had happened not long after Wildfire had been born. The middle child of Hothead's family, Horsey, who had dawned his name after his ability to ride horses, had been the victim of a stray bullet fired from an unknown place. Hothead's father had found him with a wound in his chest three days later, tucked into an under a grove of bramble bushes. I shuddered, before returning to reality. "That was awful." I answered.
"Hey ladies. Wildfire's joined." I looked at the identical mini version of Hothead, with red hair, bright green eyes, and a somewhat rounded physique. He was exactly like his older brother. "Say, Scrubs, what do you think we should do after Lunch?" Wildfire asked. He wasn't technically part of the group but Hothead was the biggest of us and that came in handy when we were exploring the outer areas of the Farmlands, so we allowed it.
"Say, Wildfire, I have no clue. What's on your mind?" I asked him. He grinned with crooked teeth before settling down in his overalls which looked like they were stained with flour. "Have you been baking again?" Asked Hothead as he wolfed down what was a slice of buttered bread. Wildfire nodded.
"I think we should head down to the lake. Mam says there are loads of folk going. Should be fun?" Wildfire said. I turned to Rodent, who had finished and was eyeing up a lemonade jug. He turned back to the conversation and nodded enthusiastically, before deciding to grab a metal cup and down some of the lemonade. Wildfire got excited at this and Hothead patted him on the back to calm him down.
"We'll go soon as Rodent and Scrubs are finished." Hothead explained and Wildfire snatched a slice of melon from the bowl at the table hungrily.