Chapter 1
At thirteen years old, my life revolved around my father's farm. We were a team of two, my father and I, ever since my mother died in childbirth. Life in our village was difficult, and we did our best to live off the land. Most days, I woke up before the sun, helping with the animals, tending to the crops, and making sure everything was in order around the farm. It was exhausting work, but I took pride in knowing that we were contributing to the well-being of our community.
Today was just like any other. I woke up to the sound of roosters crowing and the smell of fresh hay. It was time to start another day on the farm with my father. I quickly dressed, eager to get outside and begin the day's work.
As I made my way outside, I saw my father already up and about, tending to the animals. "Good morning, father," I greeted him.
"Good morning, my boy," he replied warmly. "Are you ready for another day of hard work?"
I nodded eagerly, feeling a sense of pride at being able to help my father with the daily tasks on the farm. He began to outline the day's responsibilities, instructing me on what I needed to do.
"Today, your main task will be to gather eggs from the henhouse and to help me with the plowing," he said, handing me a basket for the eggs. "Remember to be gentle with the hens, and to watch out for any broken eggs."
As we made our way to the fields, my father continued to guide me, offering advice and encouragement. "Remember, my son, farming is hard work, but it's also rewarding. You're learning important skills that will serve you well in life," he said, patting me on the back.
I felt a sense of gratitude for my father's guidance and support, and for the opportunity to learn the ways of the farm. With his help, I knew that I could tackle any challenge that lay ahead. After tending to the animals, I followed him through the fields, his strong hand guiding me along. Today, he was teaching me how to plow the land using a wooden plow pulled by our trusty oxen.
"Now, Timmy," my father said, his voice gruff but kind. "The trick to plowing is to keep the lines straight. You'll need to guide the plow carefully, making sure to avoid any large rocks or roots in the soil."
I nodded, trying my best to remember everything he was telling me. I wanted to make him proud, to show him that I was capable of helping him on the farm.
As I worked alongside my father, I couldn't shake an uneasy feeling that had settled deep in my gut. It was a feeling that something bad was coming, something dangerous and malevolent. I tried to push the feeling aside, to focus on the task at hand, but it lingered like a dark cloud over my head.
I looked to the side, scanning the fields for any sign of danger, but everything seemed quiet and peaceful. The sun was high in the sky, the birds chirping in the trees. It was a beautiful day, yet I couldn't shake the sense of foreboding that hung over me.
"Timmy, keep your eyes on the plow," my father called out, breaking me from my thoughts. "We don't want to hit any rocks and damage the equipment."
I nodded, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand. I guided the plow carefully through the earth, trying my best to keep the lines straight and true. But my mind kept wandering, my thoughts consumed by the feeling of dread that had settled over me.
As the hours passed, my unease only grew. I felt as though something was watching us, something dark and sinister. I glanced over my shoulder, but still saw nothing out of the ordinary. It was frustrating, this feeling of impending doom without any concrete reason for it.
"Father, do you ever get the feeling that something bad is about to happen?" I asked, unable to keep the question inside any longer.
He glanced over at me, his expression softening. "Of course, my boy," he said, placing a hand on my shoulder. "It's a natural instinct to sense danger, even when we can't see it. But we mustn't let fear consume us. We must stay strong and keep working, no matter what."
His words gave me some measure of comfort, and I tried to focus on them as we continued to work the fields. But still, the feeling of unease lingered, a constant reminder that danger may be lurking just beyond the horizon.
The day had passed without incident, and I was relieved to see the sun set behind the horizon. My father and I had worked hard in the fields, and I was exhausted from the day's labor. We had dinner together, enjoying a simple meal of bread and stew, and then played a few games of dice before retiring to bed.
I was asleep for only a few hours when I was jolted awake by my father's urgent whispers. "Timmy, wake up! We need to run, there's a goblin attack on the village!"
My heart raced as I heard the distant sounds of screams, and the pungent smell of smoke filled my nostrils. I could feel my father's hands shaking as he helped me dress and gather our things. We had to leave everything behind, the farm, our home, everything we knew.
As we fled into the night, I couldn't help but feel a sense of despair. My father had always been the rock of our little family, the one who held everything together, and now even he was shaken to his core. The goblin attack had taken us all by surprise, and there was no telling what the future held.
As we ran, I could hear the sound of footsteps behind us, and I knew that the goblins were hot on our heels. My father pushed me forward, urging me to run faster, and I felt my legs burning with the effort. We stumbled through the darkness, tripping over rocks and tree roots, but we kept going, fueled by the fear of what was behind us.
My legs were burning and my lungs were aching, but I kept going. Suddenly, I turned around and realized that I had lost sight of my father. I shouted out for him, looking around frantically, but all I could see were trees and darkness.
My heart sank as I realized that I might never see him again. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement in the distance. It was a woman, running towards me with a look of fear on her face. I hesitated for a moment, unsure if I should trust her, but then I realized that we were both running from the same danger.
As she approached, I could see that she was older than me, with short auburn hair and tired eyes. "Come on, boy!" she shouted, grabbing my hand and pulling me along with her. "We have to keep moving!"
I hesitate for a moment, torn between my desire to find my father and the woman's urgency to keep running. I look back again and spot my father in the distance, with a goblin hot on his tail. My heart races as I yell out to him, but my voice is drowned out by the screams and chaos of the village under attack. The woman pulls me into her arms and starts sprinting, but I can't shake the image of my father in danger.
I couldn't help but feel a sense of helplessness and fear creeping up on me. My father was being attacked by a goblin, and I didn't know if he could fight it off. I wanted to go back and help him, but the woman holding me kept running, pulling me along with her.
I could hear the sounds of fighting and the clash of weapons in the distance. The screams of people in pain and the goblin's grunts echoed through the night, creating a sense of chaos and terror. The woman holding me said something reassuring, but I couldn't even register the words. My mind was solely focused on my father's safety.
I looked back, hoping to see that he had managed to defeat the goblin and catch up to us, but what I saw was the complete opposite. Another goblin had come out of nowhere and tackled him to the ground. My heart sank, and I started to cry. I was terrified of what was going to happen to my father.
He shouted at us to keep running, and I knew that he was fighting for his life. As we ran, I couldn't help but think that we were abandoning him, leaving him to face the goblins alone. The woman holding me seemed to sense my distress and held me tighter, but it did little to calm my nerves.
I didn't know what was going to happen to us, to my father, or to the village. All I knew was that everything was chaos and danger, and I couldn't do anything about it.
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