Kingdom of the Raven's Fire

Chapter 1 (Day 1)

NaNoWrimo Word Count (So Far): 1723

 Dad was always a man of few words. He only had me for company during the day. Maybe he saved all his words for mom. After the chores were done, he would often disappear for hours. I always figured it was to visit her. Make sure she was safe. He kept me here to keep me safe along with Aunt Amy. If it weren't for her, I would have gone crazy. The farm was one of the only safe places left. Although, Dad and I didn't need to be here. We had wings. Even though Aunt Amy had Alaturin blood she did not have wings. She could have gotten the treatment but refused time and again. I never fully understood why. Who wouldn't want wings, I had asked her once.

"It is hard to explain sweetheart." Aunt Amy, her long blond hair covering half her face, leaned back in her chair avoiding my gaze.

"So?"

"I wish your mother was here to explain this." Amy folded her arms and sighed.

"Why?" Why would it have mattered if she explained it and not my mother? It's been a long time since I had talked to her.

"Full of questions aren't you?" Aunt Amy leaned over and ruffled my hair. "Your mom doesn't have wings either."

"I know."

Aunt Amy sighed. "I'm not going to tell you. You'll understand when you are older."

"I always found those words to be an excuse not to answer a difficult question."

Aunt Amy smirked. "I can't pull anything over on you, but I'm also not your parents."

"So what?"

Aunt Amy sighed once more. "I suppose all it comes down to is being happy with what you have and who you are. Not trying to be something that you're not. If you do, you'll lose who you are in the process."

I didn't argue with her further. She had that look she always got in her eyes when she was finished speaking. I decided that it was best to drop the subject. It wasn't worth upsetting her. After all, besides Dad, she was the only one I had to talk to. I didn't want her to stop. Dad used to talk more, but it would seem with each passing year, he spoke less and less. He used to tell me stories of the old days and of why we are here on his grandfather's old farm. How Mom and him had met and why she wasn't with us now. I suspect that some of this he sugar coated because he didn't think that I could handle the truth. She didn't leave us, she was taken from us. Sometimes at night, I was angry at him for not getting her back, but how could he have?

Life didn't seem too bad at the time, but who knew how precarious everything truly was. Dad, I believe, was the only one that knew it. He always emphasized the importance of having an escape plan. Aunt Amy and I scoffed at him until that faithful day. The day began just like almost every day. Dad and I would rise early, followed by Aunt Amy who would make us breakfast. We would dress, pull on our boots and make our way out the door. We would milk our cow Star. I had named her for the white shaped mark on her side in a patch of black fur. We would then move on to collecting eggs from our various chickens. They clucked at us with indignation as we collected their eggs. My dad always half-smiled and stroked the hens as we did this. I never quite understood why and I didn't want to ask him because I was afraid that he would stop doing it. After the chickens, we would move on to the pigs. Aunt Amy would be there beside the pen leaning over the old weather worn fence. The pigs would grunt happily as the slop filled their trough. It was then that we moved out into the field to check our crops and do any weeding and watering that was needed. It was often at these times that I would hope for rain so that it would cut our day short and leave more time for talking and story telling. It was the only time that Dad even felt up for storytelling anymore. Otherwise, I was left to my own devices to entertain myself. This would often result in me daydreaming what my life would have been like if I was born before the world had changed.