Age of Peace

~Chapter 1~

~Picture of Faith on the side~

Dragons are very intelligent creatures.

Perhaps, even more so than humans. Though, it is said that they are heartless beasts, that must be wiped out.

You heard me.

Dead.

Extinct.

I pluck at strands from a tuft of grass restlessly. But what if they have thoughts? Feelings? Reasons for their actions? Maybe they were more than just aimless attacks with no purpose.

Maybe.

I mean, everything has a purpose. A reason, as my father used to put it. Before he passed away he was known to be the wisest man in the village.

My vision blurs at the thought of my father.

I wish he were here now.

He would know what was right.

I run a hand through my silky black hair and bring my knees to my chest, gazing out towards the horizon aimlessly frustrated with the world.

It wasn't fair.

Scuffing at the ground with the end my boot, I sigh heavily and rest my head sideways on my knees.

Then again, life isn't fair.

I remember when I was younger, I had voiced these rebellious thoughts to Mistress Medley of the southern orphanage.

I huff in annoyance at the memory and narrow my eyes in irritation.

Lets just say she wasn't impressed.

I find it hard to believe that I'm the only person out there that has wondered about peace between the two species. Everyone is just too caught up in war and conflict to even consider it.

Although I know it would be difficult, it would save lives.

And dragons...

I glare daggers at the plant in front of me. The blades of grass are shriveled and white, only a musty ivy green showing at the base. Signs of the early winter this year.

To the elders, this is a bad sign. A warning, perhaps.

To me? Sometimes an early winter is just an early winter. Does there have to be a reason for everything that happens?

The cool frost burns the tip of my nose and causes my fingers to go bright red from the cold. They're numb and sting when I move them.

I rub them together rapidly in hopes of bringing some feeling back to them. I sigh when it doesn't help, and wrap my arms around my pale legs again, staring at them aimlessly in deep thought.

Whenever I even mentioned dragons the maids would either hush me urgently and glance around nervously like I had committed a crime or scold me and start ranting on about how they are "destructive" and "evil".  

These lectures drive me insane.

It's like they're robots, scurrying about their daily lives, thinking what everybody else thinks. Doing it all without question.

A gust of wind swirls around the field, tangling my hair into knots and tickling face lightly.

I tuck the shiny locks behind my ear unconsciously. Mother always used to tell me not to hide my face. She said I was beautiful and that I shouldn't hide from the world.

That I should be out spoken and confident. That the world was like a blank canvas that I could paint my own picture on.

If I had the freedom to do so, it would be as colourful and as radiant as the sun, each brush stroke telling the tale of a different story.

Now? I chuckle darkly.
Now it would be duller than concrete on the floor of a barn.

Now everyone tells me to do the exact opposite of Mother's advice.

Bitterness and loneliness creeps up my throat like bile.

It seems as though they will never understand how I feel.

I'm dragged from my thoughts by some heavy footsteps trudging across the misty field towards me. When they come to a halt nearby, I reluctantly raised my head with weary eyes.

A middle aged woman stands grumpily a few feet away. Her posture is slouched and her arms are folded tightly against her chest, creasing the rough fabric of her cotton tunic. Either due to the cold or her mood.

Probably both, knowing the types of people here in Carlyn.

When my gaze reaches her face, I notice the creases and wrinkles travelling along her face like the lines on a map. Her lips are pinched into a scowl.

Someone frowns too much. . .

"Come inside before you freeze to death." The woman rasps, sounding much older than she is.

My eyes widen slightly in disbelief. She actually cared?

"I most certainly don't want to be held responsible when you return half frozen," She adds, annoyance clear in her voice.

There it is...

I narrow my eyes at her hostile behavior, even though her attitude isn't that surprising. 

She's uptight, like the other majority of the small village.

It must be something in the water, I laugh inwardly at my own little joke.

I stand up and brush the invisible dirt off my slacks. "Oh of course, wouldn't want to be blamed for the death of a small, insignificant orphan like me, eh?" I raise an eyebrow at her, my lips forming a cheeky lop-sided grin.

Even though I act like the 'orphan' part of my statement didn't affect me, a small pang of sorrow still stabs my heart.

I shrug the feeling away angrily. "Get a grip Faith," I chant in my head desperately.

That was a long time ago.

Too long...

The ugly wrinkles etched into her face deepen, morphing into yet another frown. She's obviously not amused by my clever attitude.

Well that's a surprise. . .

I roll my eyes.

Note the sarcasm.

Ignoring the blatantly cold look I receive in return, I stroll past her hunched figure, the ghost of a smirk still clear in my features.

I was used to it by now.

You would expect me to be, after 17 years of dealing with their crap.

No amount of glares or whispers could alter my belief that the age of peace is not entirely lost in the midst of cold-blooded war.

*~*~*~*~*
Hello reader! This is the start of this book, so I'm not too sure about it yet quite yet.
Thanks for reading, words of feedback and constructive criticism are always appreciated! ✔️

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