The Fiery Breath (dragon shifter chronicles book two)

Chapter Seven

        I am staring blankly at a wall, waiting. Pure boredom is settled into my bones, in my skin, in my soul. I can feel it. Settling down, drenching me.
        I suddenly feel a very light feeling spreading through me. It envelopes me. I know what I want to do, and I cannot help it. I practically leap through the air, stumbling up from my chair. I know what I plan to do.
          I am up. I am running through the hall, and not for the first time I practically want to cut off this dress. I swerve, and nearly slip, practically tripping down the hall. I race into my room, and change into my riding outfit. I also slip on a sheath, and quickly hurry out. I quickly scribble a note down, and leave it on the table in the kitchens. Sophia will be hungry, and she will come down and see it. I quickly press my sword into a sheath, because I feel safer with it at my side.
       I find my horse, press my feet into the stirrups, and fling my leg over the saddle. I get comfortable, and tighten my hands around the rein.
       For a moment, I sit still. Like a candle flickering, in that influential moment where every factor matters and I am flickering between continuing on until I grow into a darker flame, melting the wax away, or snapping out. I know that if I go back, I will snap out. I can not meeo staring at a desk, and not sleeping. My whole body is a mess, my whole brain is in pain.
       I can not do it anymore. Sophia will understand. There are bags under my eyes, and my whole body is soaking with fatigue, but I have never felt more alive. Sucking in a deep breath, I let the air ripple in my chest. Then, I gently press my foot against my horses side, curl my hands tighter around the reins, and we are off.
           I sit comfortably in the saddle as my horse trots forward. Then, I tighten my grip against the reins, and siddenly my horse is cantering. He races forward, his feet loudly slamming against the ground. I fling backwards and forwards, moving in rythm to his strides. My hair flies around me, and I laugh, loud and clear. I watch as we slip away from the loud castle, the loud world. Leaving the vast shadow that looms over me behind, I emerge onto a dirt road. Cool breezes trickle down my skin, and sleek green grass is flooded in warmth. The path slowly slips into two. My horse comes to a halt, and I catcg myself as he suddenly stops. I look out, and see the two paths. One path stretches into the loud, bustling town with grey, dusty brick roads and pale white wooden houses. Merchants mutter to themselves in the midst of loud trading, and young women and men bustle out of schooling and race down the streets. I remember once, when I snuck down there at thirteen.
       Sophia had begged me not to, because she knew I would get in trouble. I envied it though. I envied those girls and boys who ran home, bathed in happiness. They saw merchants and the sun, and shopping and trading. They had the opportunity to fall in love with who they wanted, not be possibly forced into a marriage. Although my parents would never do that, I knew how often it happened in royal families, and I secretly hated the idea. I remember sitting in my room, listening to my teacher drone on and on about the way the towns formed, and the ideals our royal family is built on. I enjoyed economics, but unfortunately, that was not the lesson plan. I also thoroughly enjoyed reading, but again, that was not the plan. I had been staring at the window in the school room, that peered out into the castle gate, which revealed the large path that appeared to dip down through the horizon. I longed to hold it, to open it, to grasp it. I could not just disappear, but I was tired and I wanted to be someone else. So when my teacher called break, rebellion swerved into my chest, sucking its teeth in each breath. I knew what i had to do, and I excused myself to the bathroom. My mother, before she died, would have been proud, as she always told young men and women to live for themselves until the last minute. Until that moment I never understood her words, but I did when that rebellion first stung me and I knew what I chose to do.
        I disappeared. I slipped on moms old cloak, and stole riding pants from Vincent, along with a blouse from one of the younger maids. In that moment I braided my hair, swung the cloak over my head, and knew something stupid I planned to do. There was someone I needed to do it though.
      My horse.
He was much smaller, still growing at that age. The stable boy never stopped commenting on how everytime I walked past, his gaze stilled, and his body relaxed. I didn't see it that way. I saw him live.
     He came from the home of a abusive old merchant who bruised him, and he was never calm. My mother ordered that she have him, and my father took him. Him mother had been killed, and he had just barely been born. So when I saw him, locked in that stall, I saw the pain leaking through his eyes. I stared and stared, without blinking, at 12. Then he grew, into a stallion. Stallions are usually mean, but I could make him calm.
     I did too. I mounted him, after revealing myself. He was still, calm. He even let me gently urge him forward with my foot. Then he trotted. I have to admit, I was scared. He was huge and I was tiny, he was tall and I was short. He and I were both in pain though, and we both wanted out from the castle walls. So he trotted, gently, and we strolled out. I pried open the gate, closed it, and left, my cloak hiding my face.
     The first thing i did was get to the town, because I knew where I was going. He was horrified of being left alone, so I tied him outside the school.
I still remember it. The town was still, because work ours were still on, and the sun beat down on my skin. The cloak, lined with fur, added warmth to my skin. I let it slip off me, and untangled my braid, letting the strands flop down my back. Then I slipped inside the school, my heart rapidly pounding my ribs.
      I emerged into a hall, with old wooden floorboards. The whole thing smelled like soap, and clean water. The walls were smooth, pale white, hard bricks. I could see wooden doors with words engraved across them. Smooth, well done, neat words that I could read perfectly well. One caught my eye, and I stared intently.
      Literary works it read. I desperately wanted to go in, and my lucky moment emerged. Doors swung open, and classes dived out. Kids shouted, and a river of boys and girls slipped into the hall. They were all smiling, and had beautiful faces, each looking different. I remember feeling so uncomfortable with my sharp features and eyes that clung to whatever I focused on with a odd calm. However, no one noticed me. Instead, the stream filled the hall, and I knew where I was going. Kids slipped into other classes, and I disappeared, slipping between the stream. I scampered into the classroom. Immediately I felt a warmth. The pale blue walls made of painted brick, and the smooth wooden desks were suddenly filled with kids. a large roll of paper slipped down onto the wall, having been tacked up. Clear, smooth paper. A young, clumsy looking woman with short, apricot hair and a long, old maiden dress made of smooth fabric hid behind a desk with a mound of books. She had framed glasses, curls, and sharp blue eyes.
      Suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I did not belong at all. I saw a wooden wardrobe, and ducked behind it. My breath was quick, and the space was shadowed and cramped. I hushed my breathing, and pressed my legs to my chest. The class drew silent, and suddenly,the woman spoke.
       "Literary works. I always thought that was such a bland name," she begans casually. I silently agreed, and then I closed my eyes and listened. She talked for another hour, and through her speech, she spoke of every book she could name. Every workbook, ever story. I felt something spring up inside me then and there, and it was because I had read those books too.
        I sprinted out at the end of class, and ran out. The kids sprung forwards, and I raced forwarf first. I leapt from the classroom, and pulled on my cloak. My heart still hammered, and I slipped onto my horse by using a crate that I dragged forward. I raced home, after being
able to trade a scrap of the cloak for a loaf of bread. I ate the bread before feeding and cleaning my horse, and slipping back into the castle.
      I suffered the consequences that day, definitely. For a week, the guards loomed above me, and I felt their shadows casted over me. It was worth it though. I washed the blouse and pants, and returned them. However, Vincent told me to keep them, and he got a new set of riding pants. The first thing I did when I was off  from being watched was ride with him.
    I smile, remembering that day now. Today isn't that day though. I look at the forest, where the trees let the sunlight wash over them and they stain the blue horizon. Leaves are a blanket to the wisps of grass that are the ground. I set off in that direction, ready for the sound of a river.