Skolan;
I glared at Eren as I came downstairs. "Runt. Food."
He simply nodded and set to it. I slumped into my chair, waiting impatiently.
I scuffed my muddy boots onto the floor, waiting. He set a plate in front of me, then knelt to clean up the mud. I kicked him, glancing up from my food. He ignored me and stood, returning to the basin, cleaning carrots again. He dried his hands and pulled out the cork. He picked up a bucket and went outside, fetching water from the well. He replaced the cork and poured the bucket into the now empty basin. Then he went to work again, finishing quickly.
I set my plate on the counter, knocking some vegetables onto the dirty floor. I chuckled as he stooped to pick them up, spitting on the ground next to him. He flinched, but said nothing.
I smirked and went to the fire room.
YOU ARE READING
The Eighth Son
FantasyThe eighth son of a seventh son. He isn't supposed to have the power. The seventh son doesn't know why his power is late in coming. But Eren does. He knows why Roden cant use it. Because it was given to him instead. The eighth son. The flaw. The day...
