Third chapter of my story. I have found a new pen name, and it is....Charlotte Bronte. Please let me know if it is already taken, and if it is, I will change it.
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Ryan disapproved of the stranger, but against his own consceinece, he hired him. No one had been able to get close to that beast of a stallion since Charlie had stopped riding. And he hadn't seen a person like that since Charlie...and since his wife.

"Uncle Ryan?" Savannah's voice broke throush his thoughts like sunlight slanting through rain. "What?" he asked gruffly. "Can I go down and exercise Dream?" "Yes. Wear a helmet," he said. Strawberry Cream Dream was a little pony that Savannah loved. He was a red roan with a white blaze, and he had eyes the colour of coal. It would have terrified Ryan to see her on one of the bigger, more fiery tempered Throughbreds or Mustangs, but on the short, somewhat fat, Dream he didn't have to worry.

Charlie had disappeared back into the house, but Ryan curtly suggested that Cieran come with him and Savannah down to the stables. Cieran accepted with a curt nod, and the two of them walked up towards the barn behind the bumbling Savannah. The day was already beginning to become hot, and the grass crunched brown and dry under their feet.

The barn was warm and smelled of the sweetness of hay and leather and the ever-definable musk of horses. The sound of pigeons taking shelter in the rafters, the hiss of hay being pulled from a haynet, the wuffle of horses as they greeted the new-comer and the old man. Savannah already had Dream cross-tied in the aisle, his heavy Western saddle and bridle hung on the saddle hook. She circled the curry comb over his reddish coat, then swiped away the dust with a dandy brush.

Ryan walked slowly down the aisle, showing Cieran each horse and identifying them by name. The black in the first stall was Blue, the bright bay mare across from him was the pretty but tempermental Sheila. There was the huge brown gelding that Ryan had claimed for his own, with hooves the size of dinner plates and a name that suited him: Gentle Giant, also known as Gent. And of course Pilgrim, the pretty little quarter horse that had belonged to his wife.

Cieran looked at each horse gently and quietly, without a single word. He scratched the horses gently and fondly, as if he had known them all his life. Ryan noticed how he acted almost like a horse himself, making rumbling noises in his throat and blowing into their nostrils in greeting. Ryan knew this greeting and used it himself; an old Navajo Indian trick used to a greet a horse in a friendly way. Horses greet each other by blowing, and it's the gentlest way to do so.

Savannah had tacked up Dream and was trotting him in figure eights out in the paddock by the time Cieran and Ryan had finished looking over each of the horses. The stallion still had not returned; Ryan couldn't see the house, but he guessed that this was where the stallion was, standing centinal at the door. If only Charlie still admonished the stallion, then it would be easier to get him back up to the stable.

Meanwhile, Charlie sat at the kitchen table eating a slice of toast and drinking another glass of juice. She was alone in the house now; every noise reached her ears like a shout and it was beginning to make her feel a little creepy. She wished she could find solace in knowing that, indeed, the stallion still was outside, but she could not.

She shut her eyes and tipped her chair back, resting her heels on the ground. An image flashed into her mind, of the stallion's face framed with blue sky and the crackling sound of fire in the background- and then a scream. Charlie jerked upright. Pain shot through her leg and she clutched her knee, gritting her teeth. The scream had been from her dream- that dream that she had held deep inside herself for so long.

Feeling mad, she dumped the rest of her toast and juice into the sink and stalked back upstairs, into her room and shut the door. She sat down on the bed feeling sorry for herself, then she heard something that made her retreat across the hall and into the far bedroom. She parted the curtains for the third time that morning and what she saw terrified her beyond belief.

Her father was seated high upon Gent, riding next to Cieran, who was on Blue. What struck her was that Cieran was an excellent rider; an arrow straight back, dropped heels, toes pointed outwards and one hand clasping the reins gently but firmly. Ryan also was a good rider, but she hadn't seen someone rider like Cieran in years.

Blue pranced in place around the stallion, who still grazed unheeded in the front yard. Old Gent was completely unperterbed, and dropped his head as he walked by, chewing his western bit slowly and walking right by. But the younger, spunkier Blue, gave a little buck in the stallion's direction, and was reward with a sharp nip from the stallion. Blue shot forward at a canter, but Cieran immedietly dropped his hands and tugged on the reins, bringing Blue in a tight circle down to a walk.

Irked, the stallion switched his tail uneasily and continued to graze. Blue was a spunky little colt, a fine little two year old Ryan had bought as a yearling, but the stallion, though young and barely topping six years, felt himself older, wiser then the still-spindely foal. He dropped his head and continued to graze, looking as regal and full of himself as a king on his throne.

Charlie watched and almost laughed, catching herself before the first giggle could escape her well-guarded heart. Then she let the curtains fall, and retreated back to her own room.

Posted in Posted by Adam Brewer

That is something I’ve been trying to remember ever since I came here, but unfortunately I forgot. In my life I have faced the problem of upsetting friends and family with things I’ve said. Much of the time I don’t mean what I say, or I will realize that what I said was wrong, but that doesn’t help smooth over feelings. I have learned that apologizing and starting to DO the right thing is the best way.

A year ago I was very angry, and I didn’t have many friends, actually about the only friends I had were Inklings. I was chronically angry and took it out on everyone. Now this changed, but not before I was kicked out of the inklings, and had a good long time to think about it. I fought with a lot of Inklings members and openly mocked the rules, and I am surprise now that I think back on it that Pip and Jane let me back in, but they indeed did. However it was the same day that I suddenly realized I needed to get my heart right with God, and work things out with my family.

So a year later I had all but forgotten the inklings, but sure enough one day Chezdak had written about an “American character” she was making, and I laughed so hard that I kinda remembered the Inklings, and that I did have fun here and it wasn’t all fighting and tears. So I promised myself I wouldn’t do anything to hurt other people this time, and that I wouldn’t let myself offend anyone. And so I took that re-invite, and joined Inklings.

It was all but dead.

Sure enough not many still were here, and others were leaving. I was kinda upset to learn this, but I plunged in and started talking to someone I had kinda overlooked last time I was here. Arianna Joy. She in many ways reinforced the positive memories I had because she’s a sweet kind person who helps lift peoples spirits when they’re down.

It was so positive that I plucked up the courage to go to our leader and ask her for a list of tings to be done, so that we could bring inklings back together. It all worked so well that In some ways I have become proud, and have at a couple of times though jokingly proclaimed myself the best writer here. And I apparently hurt a couple people here.

Now to handle something. I never meant that by saying that Pip thought of me as dark and evil, that she CALLED me dark. From a couple of PM’s during the fiasco I kind of got the feeling that she thought I was evil and dark because of some of the things I did. I never meant this as an attack, nor did I mean that she was evil in any way, but she and I never got along, and that’s the sad truth.

Now I ask anyone I have offended during this to forgive me. I promise that I am not trying to hurt anyone or imply that anyone else was evil.

Posted in Posted by Rudyard Kipling

Posted in Posted by Adam Brewer

Jacob sat in the dirt making circles in it. He was about seven, and he was blond haired. His friend James sitting next to him was a year older, and had much darker hair. They were waiting for dinner, and Jacob’s mom had cast them both out of the small hut so she could work.

“Want to go see farmer Ben’s new chickens?” James asked.

“Nope.” Jacob replied.

“I heard that he got white chickens.” James said.

“That is nonsense; all chickens are brown.” Jacob replied.

James started picking up small rocks out of the ground, and threw them out at the other huts across the pathway. Another boy ran by their house, and stepped in Jacobs circles. Jacob who was furious went back to work making them again, but James got up.

“I am going to go see farmer Ben’s chickens.” He said.

“Okay.” Jacob said brushing some dirt off of his clothes.

They both got up and started running down the old dirt road. They were towards the middle of town, so it was going to take them a few minutes to get to farmer Ben’s field.

They came up to a bend that lead them through the town market. James took the lead and started running down towards the market.

The market was different from the rest of the town. When you arrived at the market you would see that there were bricks instead of dirt to walk on, and everything and everyone got louder. People having conversations would be walking from stand to stand, mothers would be carrying sacks of vegetables while dragging their screaming kids, but nothing was as loud as the stall-keepers.

Stall-keepers often were yelling as loud as they could to get potential customers. Every stand was competing against another, and every stand had the loudest person yelling for them. They kept displays up all the time, and were always sweeping the space around their stalls, so they had clean and tidy spaces, but the middle of the walkway was covered in patches and blotches of dirt and mud.

James ran slightly ahead of Jacob. They ran by people wheeling carts full of vegetables, and furs. James jumped and hopped on crates as they tore through the market. They turned down a street to avoid the main street hustle. Jacob then took the lead and ran between houses with clothes hanging between them, and down toward the brook.

The brook had long been said to be the deepest in the land. Some had drowned because they thought that just because it was narrow that it was shallow. James and Jacob walked around to the bridge, and crossed there. The roads lead them all the way to the farm of farmer Ben.

“I do not see any chickens.” Jacob said disappointedly.

“Dennis said they were here.” Said James.

“I do not see them though.” Said Jacob.

Jacob ran toward the other edge of the farm, but before the he reached the edge he heard the city’s horn.

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Felicia walked down to the market to buy some potatoes. She was almost relived when she saw the two boys had run off. Jacob was always trying to help, but he had a tendency to get in her way. She usually sent him out while she was prepping a meal.

She was preparing a potato soup, but she had run out of potatoes, so she had to go get some. She loved going down to the market, and was usually glad to have an excuse to go down there. Many women had never paid much attention to her because she was an outsider. She and Jacob had moved to this small village only two years before, but she and Jacob had become friends with their next door neighbors, so in some way it had somehow balanced.

Their neighbors had been kind to them from the beginning. They had been the ones to help them get the house they had needed. Felicia was poor, and most of the rental homes had been taken, so her only choice was to buy one outright. She had only half the money needed, so in exchange for some labor help their neighbors agreed to help the buy the next door home.

As it turned out the whole line of work had turned out to be something that she knew about, carpentry. Her father had been a carpenter, and before she had married she used to watch him during any free time she got. Her father had even shown her a couple of time how to saw wood, and to use a sanded paper to scrape the splinters free. They helped her through all of this, and while others were cold to her, she knew she could depend on them.

She had finally reached the market. When she had moved here she was still recovering from the loss of her husband William. William had gone off into the war against Sulfire, but it was not two months after he’d left her that they brought back his sword saying he’d been kill in a hail of boulders.

“Hello, my young lady!” She heard a man call to her. He was trying to sell furs. She sometimes liked looking at such things, but she needed to go get potatoes not furs. She headed down to a vegetable stand and started looking at the potatoes. The stall-keeper was talking to everyone but her. She ignored his rudeness and grabbed ten large potatoes. Suddenly he did notice her.

“Hello, how may I help you, my lady?” He said.                                                  

“I would like to buy these potatoes.” She said.

“Just a second here and we’ll see.” He replied.

He grabbed the sack of potatoes from her hand and set them on a scale. He brought them back.

“Ten gold coins.” The man said, and she paid him. She took the potatoes and started heading back to her house.

She got near her house and saw that her neighbors had left. She set the potatoes on the counter and grabbed a large iron pot out of the corner. She grabbed a rod and used it to put the pot on a hook above the fire. She had added the water and seasonings earlier, so the pot was almost too heavy. She tossed three potatoes in the pot to boil. He job was almost done; she still had to clean up after the mess she had made earlier.

That was when she heard the city’s horn blast.

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Jacob was running through the panicked streets. He was separated from James, and was trying to find him. He was lost in the market, and was nearly run over by Stall-keepers who had packed up and were trying to get out. There were spooked horses and other large beasts running through the streets unguarded.

Suddenly soldiers with their swords drawn were running through the streets. They were in leather armor with metal plating, and each carrying a metal shield with the eight point star of Melendy.

The soldiers were running towards something, but Jacob was just trying not to get trampled. He ran down another street only to see the cavalry heading his way, so ducked back out. He was trying to get home, and still looking for James. He was scared, but he kept trying anyway.

Finally he spotted James, but they were on opposite side of the street. James spotted him through the madness as well.

They both couldn’t get to each other.

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Felicia spotted her son trying to get to the other side of the street. She ran through the crazed crowd trying to get to their individual homes. She pushed through stands that had been abandoned in an attempt to escape. Her son spotted her, and ran toward her. Just before they reached each other a policeman riding on a horse rode between them, but after that they embraced each other.

“What’s going on?” He yelled in her ear. Despite being loud she could barely tell what he’d said.

“We will be safe.” She assured him, but wasn’t so sure herself.

The policemen were out directing people to their homes. Felicia was trying to find her way. normally she could figure out how to get somewhere, but with everything in shambles she was a bit turned around.

“Hello!” she yelled at an officer. He stopped and turned to her.

“ I need to find the stable; can you help me?” She yelled.

“Ma’am please we advise you to head home.” He replied

“I have a horse, a fast horse, please point me to the stable.” She pleaded.

He started to argue, but then he pointed of toward the chaos. “Better hurry that side of town is pretty much destroyed Ma’am. She barely caught that last part as she was tearing through the streets with her son. He was weaving better than she was so the only held hands.

They were running down a street when the started hearing rumbles. At first she couldn’t figure out where it was coming from, but then a giant fireball flew overhead and landed off to her left somewhere rumbling as it hit the ground. The city was being bombarded, and she was still with Jacob trying to get to the stables.

They got to a clearing, and what they saw wasn’t pretty. It appeared that they were attacking the city plaza. Jacob pointed, and she almost cried in relief, the stables were still standing. She however noted that the gate keeper was no longer there. She and Jacob ran to the gate, with a little caution she lifted and dropped Jacob over the tall gate, and he promptly opened it for her. She ran in and saw all the horses bucking and kicking, but she was looking for her horse.

She found her horse which was strangely calm compared to the others, but she still seemed anxious. The horse was a perfect white, and was a small horse. Her name was Swift. Her husband had bought the horse long ago, but it had taken a long time to tame her. She was a wild horse of the north, and as such she had roamed the plains. Northern horses were highly sought after.

She entered, and Swift nearly raised onto her hind legs before Felicia calmed her.

After reassuring her everything was fine she put the blanket on and then the saddle. After fastening the saddle she proceeded to put on the bridle.

She put Jacob up first, and then rose upon the horse herself. After unfastening the horse she made a noise in her ear and they rode the horse out. The city was still being bombarded, but now there was little left, rocky mud homes had been demolished by the flaming boulders, and the hay roofs had been burned down.

In one direction she saw the Melendian army fighting the soldiers in black in red. She gasped at how few there were left. The black and red army she knew very well. It was the Sulfirians, and they were already riding the red banner in. She quickly tuned the horse around, and took off in the other direction. There was little left anywhere; only a house or two stood standing. The site horrified her, and yet didn’t surprise her either. The Sulfirian’s king, Lord Devioun the Dragon, was known to kill his own for sport, and had burned down cities before, so there was little to be surprised about.

She rode down from the village hill to a little bridge, and quickly crossed it. She saw that the fields ahead were not clear, but filled with siege weapons and cavalry of Sulfire. She knew there was little she could do, but either wait them out, or charge them and hope she made it through alive.

She charged at them.

Her horse ran over the rolling field, but for her speed Felicia wondered how she was going to slip out of the wall of horses ahead. The catapults still launching their flaming boulders above her head; she rode down at the wall, and that was when the charged at her. She turned her horse to the right, and some of the men jumped out of line; exactly what she wanted. She turned around and some of the men went around her, and turned around in pursuit.  She took a sharp right again and found herself out of the ring of soldiers. She charged her horse toward the war machines.

She thought she was in the home stretch until she saw a man standing in front of her. He was not any man though; he was Lord Devioun. She stopped her horse, but the other men were not pursuing anymore. She was in a trap.

“Enough men! She’s mine!” He yelled. She was close enough to see his young face. He looked no older than 18, but anyone who knew anything about him knew he was very much older. His long fine blond hair was lashing around in the wind, and he had terribly dark eyes. His armor was a simple and rounded in shape, but not many gaps in it, and it was painted in black with red design much like the rest of his army.

“Do you surrender?” He yelled.

“Never!” She roared back, but she did not waist time she charged her forward, and tried to go way around. He then pulled out a sword; A red glowing sword. He held it high above his head, and then he stuck the ground beneath him.

At first nothing happened, but then she realized the earth beneath her was rumbling. She urged her now extremely frightened horse, but her horse reared and tried to buck her off. Devioun drew his sword out, and from the hole left the earth started cracking everywhere. The terrible rumbling would stop as she saw the land quaking and shaking beneath them. She urged her horse once more, and this time the horse bolted forward so quickly that she nearly fell off. She felt Jacob cling to her back tighter than ever. She reached her arm around to hold Jacob, and pulled him in front of her. The rumbling was quieting, but she now heard arrows whizzing by her head as she now was headed for the forest, but worse she turned to see Devioun’s War dogs perusing them. They were small grey and white beasts, but they were fast and ferocious.

She was nearing the forest, but the dogs were gaining on them. She looked for anything on her saddle that she could hit them with, but could not find anything. Finally she reached the forest edge, but the dogs did not break pursuit. What did happen though was she realized they were going to get out of there. She knew these lands, and so she carefully guided the horse down to lower ground. The dogs were still pursuing, but they had lost ground. She headed lower still down near the river.

As she neared the waters edge she looked for the perfect place to cross. Suddenly the dogs popped out of the trees very close, so she just pulled her horse out into the water. The horse resisted for a second, but then charged into the water and made her way for the other side. It was not a difficult task for them, but the water was rushing fast enough that the dogs were being carried away. She got out on the other side her ankles damp, but she saw the dogs break pursuit and run back to their master. Jacob was still safely in front. She turned the Horse, and headed south.

Posted in Posted by Adam Brewer

Chapter 1

Jacob now sixteen was outside sharpening his sword against the smooth stone. He had been working at this for hours. He had neglected it, and his trainer was complaining. A boy named Caleb had come to watch him. He stared intently as Jacob slid the sword carefully across the smooth surface.

Caleb was his brother by adoption. When Jacob and his mom escaped North-point village of the Nikrook they went and rented a small country house in the region of Lookook. Jacob’s Mom had taught Jacob how to ride the horse, so Jacob usually rode to town and got things. Eventually they had a large Farm going, and Swift had a colt named Surefoot. Jacob owned Surefoot, and loved him.

Everything was normal until one day Jacob came down with the flu, and his Mom had to take care of him, take care of the farm, and run items down to town, so that she could sell it to a marketer.  His Mom had met Caleb who was trying to sell an old beat up cart, and seeing how they’d always needed a cart, she offered to pay a small fee to rent it before the harvest. He would only accept if he could stay with his cart. Not wanting to argue she let him help her, but one thing led to another, and not only was she renting the cart from him she was paying for his services running the vegetables to town as well.

A week later Jacob was back up on his feet and helping with the farm, but Caleb became a more effective way of transporting the vegetables and wheat. Jacob was also relived to no longer have to ride to town for sales. And since finding Caleb they’d found an in-town Marketer that would buy their vegetables everyone was happy, and everything was calm.

Things changed a year later. A terrible storm was blowing through, and Caleb showed up unexpectedly. He wanted to come in out of the rain. Of coarse Jacob’s Mom let him, but it took no time at all for her to ask why he wasn’t with his parents. He said they’d died long ago, and that’s why was even selling the cart. Little more was said before she put Caleb to bed. She came out that night to Jacob who was watching the last few lightning strikes before the storm disappeared forever. She asked him what he’d thought about Caleb living with them. It was a question he knew she was going to ask, and he’d already made up his mind that he liked Caleb, so he told her that he wouldn’t mind it.

That was that, Caleb accepted living with them, and to this day Caleb helped with everything.

Today though they had finished selling everything, and Jacob was training with an old Nithcur.

Nithcurs were hard to find because they were the elite soldiers of Melendy. This one had greeted everyone in his village as he was opening a school. He met Jacobs’s mother, and after talking with her apparently offered free lessons to Jacob.

So here they were Jacob was preparing for his lesson that evening, and Caleb was watching him. Jacob looked over and saw that Caleb was holding the hunters knife he bought him. Caleb had already learned how to take down a large animal with one.  Jacob used to see Caleb running through the fields killing rabbits that plagued them badly. They had to eat the rabbits though, and Jacob had never liked rabbit.

Jacob picked up his sword and looked it over. There wasn’t a way to get it any sharper, so he slid it into his scabbard. Caleb got up and ran back to the house. Jacob slowly lagged behind. The fields had turned brown for the coming winter when the ground would get cool, and the winds were starting too cool down from the blistering heat of summer and autumn. His mom was waiting at the door of their small home. The home it self was run down and old, but his mom still kept it tidy. Unlike in the north where they used to live homes here were made of brick instead of a hardened mud. He walked inside the dark home.

Inside did not looked run down at all .the brick walls had tapestries on them, and the wood floors were swept of any dirt from the outside. It was a small area, in the corner was a table with three chairs around it, and in the back of the hut was a fire roaring, and above it looked to be one of his mom’s stews. The aroma filled the house, and made Jacob hungry.

“The food will be ready soon. Caleb can you go get me some sweet apples from down stairs, I thought I would make a pie.” His mom said while cleaning up some more things before dinner. Jacob walked upstairs for he was going to remove his worksman cloths and don his warrior suit for his lesson tonight. His room was shared with Caleb, who for all his help in the field couldn’t seem to pick up anything in the house, so his side of the room was a wreck.

While Jacob was putting on his silvery armor he was listening to his brother and mother talking.

Jacob always loved his armor. It was custom made for him by a blacksmith. He’d never learned exactly why the blacksmith had done it, but on his market day Jacob used to ride down into town, and he always liked stopping by the blacksmith and seeing him work. Eventually the blacksmith asked him why he hung around, and Jacob said because he wanted armor. He was young at the time so He didn’t think about how silly that sounded. The Blacksmith laughed and then asked Jacob what he should start with. Jacob had replied “a shield,” and so the Black smith the next time Jacob arrived at his shop gave Jacob a shield. It was a small shield in reality. I sword fighters shield, but at the time it was huge for Jacob. Later Jacob stopped by and was given arm plates, and so it continued as Jacob received his helmet, his chest plate leg plates, and one thing Jacob had never expected his leather under armor. All of it too large for Jacob, but all of it Jacob had later grown into.

Now Jacob stood in his armor, it was light and easy to move in. The Blacksmith he learned made light armors out of stronger metals. He could walk in it almost as easy as his work cloths. He shield was even smaller than most sword fighters shields, because he needed that hand free the grab other weapons.

He decided to jump down to the floor below instead of use the ladder.

“Hey Jacob the food is ready.” His mom said. “I see you are ready for tonight.”

“Yes, I am going to run down there after dinner.” Jacob said.

“Alright, me and Caleb will put the chickens away later then.” She replied.

“Thank you.”

The meal was as good as it had smelled, and the pie had been even better. Jacob was getting prepared to go down when he saw that his Mom and Caleb were going down to the chicken pen to feed them and get them back in their cages. He watched them for a minute before setting out down the dirt road. It was an old chicken hut like everything they owned, but it did its job.

The road leading up to their home was trampled grass and dirt. It was a very ugly road, but it was the only way to get to the stables. The thing Jacob hated was that unlike most farmers they’d chosen to live outside the city. This meant they saved money traveling out of the city every day to work, but it also meant that the stables were a distance away. Luckily there was an old stable that farmers kept for there work horses, and this meant that Jacob didn’t have to go all the way to town.

Jacob reached the stable which a man was guarding. He was little old, and Jacob knew the man was no match for him, but he clearly was taking his post seriously.

“What happened Jake Jones?” Jacob asked.

“He is taking the day off, so I am working his shift, the pay is good you know.” He said. “My name is Frank Hensley.”

“Glad to meet you, my name is Jacob.” Jacob said holding out and armored palm. The man reached out his hand and clapped it down on Jacob’s hand, and held it firmly before letting go. “Good to meet you too.” He said. “I guess you have come here for your horse, and may I ask what horse you own?”

“I own Surefoot.” Jacob said.

“Ah, one of the half-breeds.” Frank replied.

“You know about him?” Jacob asked.

“Yes, gave me fits while feeding him, and not much better when it came to his water” Frank growled.

“That’s him.” Jacob said while the man was unlocking the gate to the stable. Inside it smelled horrible to Jacob. Unlike others he knew Jacob never liked the smell of a horse. It was a dirty smell that one had to get used to. He walked past several horses of all sizes and markings. The man led him to two horses, his mother’s horse Swift, and to her right Surefoot. Surefoot was a larger horse like the southern breeds, but his build and his shaping made him look like a northern horse. He was all white except for a large black patch around his eye. The man prepped the horse to be ridden, and Jacob glanced over at Swift. Swift was getting old, and wasn’t as fast as other younger northern breeds.

The horse was ready and Jacob mounted him, the clapped their hands again and he rode out of the stable. Surefoot for being large was one of the fastest horses he ever saw. He let Surefoot run as though they were being chased. Jacob never liked going that fast, but his horse did. After a few minutes the horse settled down and they both relaxed. The sun was setting and it would soon be nightfall on their land. Jacob saw the rolling brown fields, and took in the view. The sky shown a brilliant orange as the sun set on the flat lands of Melendy. Up in North Melendy in the region of Nikrook he and his mom watched the sun set over the mountains, but now he lived in the region of Lookook, and it was flat. He heard that Nikrook was the only region like it, and that all the rest of Melendy was flat, but he still longed to see those mountains again.

It was night as Jacob entered the village filled with small huts. Their Brick exteriors were as Jacob always knew, but something had changed. He could see lights in the middle of the city. It was off of his path, but he headed there anyway. As he approached the light He could here sounds of music, and laughter. When he arrived he realized what he was hearing and seeing.

Before him was the yearly festival of freedom. Jacob never quite understood it, but He knew it had something to do with Melendy fighting successfully against Sulfire, and keeping their freedom. His mom never attended the festival, but he decided to ride in.

As he rode in he saw several events happening. The thing he saw first were two men on a platform fighting with sword dripping and sparking fire. He looked curiously at them and then turned his attention to the fireworks display. It was impressive he thought how that could achieve all of those colors. He noticed that some were startled by his armor. So he rode to the large dance in the center of the village. The performance was impressive by some, but others who joined the dance were clumsy. Outside the dance were thirteen pillars blazing all over, and the dancers danced inside the ring. All of it was great, but not what Jacob rode into town for.

Jacob rode out of the festivities, and into a darker corner of the village. The street could only easily be accessed by alleys as the street ended way off to the south which was the only way to enter it. Jacob rode into the alley and came out on the poorly lit street. The houses were all old, and most were abandoned, but Jacob was going further. He came out to a road leaving town, and took it. It was the road that led him to the training grounds. He breathed deeply as he approached the building. He arrived at the gate which always stood open. His Instructor had always said “If the gate were closed it would not stop an intruder, but would stop any help.” He rode his horse in and noticed that none of the lamps were lit. Jacob found this unusual, so he checked the area with caution.

Something was wrong, he could feel it. Everything was neatly put away arrows taken off the board and put away. Not once had Jacob come to these grounds to find things put away. He rode his horse into the personal stable of his instructor. He then noticed everything was neat and tidy in there as well. Jacob got off his horse quickly and ran toward the door.

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This story is off to an interesting start don't you all think?

Welcome yto the King of Melendy you're in for an interesting ride.

The next chapter of my story! So my pen name is on probation, for now I'll just go by Emma ;). Let me know what you think!
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Charlie let the curtains fall again and quickly walked out of the room and down the stairs, waiting at the base. Savannah came wandering into the room from the kitchen, crumbs still around her mouth and a glass of juice in her hand. "Where have you been?" Savannah asked. "Upstairs," Charlie replied, sitting down stiffly on the bottom step. It creaked and saged a millimeter and Charlie quickly changed her mind.

Savannah took a drink of her juice and wiped her mouth with her sleeve. "Did you see that guy outside?" Savannah asked. "Uncle Ryan is talking to him now." "Really," Charlie said. "You sound like Uncle Ryan," Savannah said, wrinkling her nose. "But really, this guy is weird! He's wearing a trench coat, and it's, like, August."

Charlie did not feel like talking. Her mouth was dry and she looked at Savannah's juice longingly. She stood, walked into the kitchen, and poured herself a cup of juice from the pitcher, then took it back to the steps. Savannah was gone, but the front door was open, the screen slapping against it's frame haphazardly in the brisk but hot breeze. She could see her father, the stranger and Savannah all talking, while the stallion stood nearby, stiff-legged with his head high.

Cautiously, Charlie stood up and walked to the screen, pressing her ear against the torn mesh so she could hear what was being said.

Ryan noticed Charlie watching them. He looked from her to the stallion, who seemed not to have noticed her, and then to the stranger. "What's your name, you said?" he asked, doing his best to stand straighter, square his shoulders just enough that he looked menacing. "Cieran McMarra," the stranger replied. "Are you, like, Scottish or something?" Savannah asked. Ryan looked at his eleven year old niece sharply. "Because you've got a cool accent." "Irish," the stranger replied. "From Dublin. I come lookin' for work." "Here?" Ryan asked. "But yes," the stranger- Cieran- replied. "Me father- he was a great horseman. Me folks died not long ago, so I come to here, lookin' for work." He shrugged.

Savannah was completely enthralled, but Ryan was still unconvinced. "But why here?" he asked. It was an odd question, but it needed to be asked, one way or another. \

"Good question," Cieran said. 'Not entirely sure why, but I do. Not my best choice, perhaps, but..." He changed the subject. "Right fine stallion you got there. Throroughbred, is he? Long legs."

"He's a mustang," Charlie said suddenly, stepping out the door and onto the porch. She stayed in the shadow, shielded from the sweltering sun. "He's a wild mustang."

Her. The stallion recognized her voice immedietly. He turned his head and looked at her, his eyes deep brown pools. His girl. His rider. He missed her. He nickered to her. She looked past him to the stranger. The stallion bellowed loudly and pawed the ground, dancing in place with anger. Why did she never come to see him. He knew that she had been hurt. He didn't understand it.  He looked from under his thick lashes at his girl. She continued to look past him, through him.

"Mustang?" the stranger replied. The stallion eyeballed him, pivoting on his hind legs to face him. "Never seen a mustang before. Not at all what I thought he'd look like." "He's part mustang," Ryan interrupted gruffly, looking at Charlie, who looked quickly at her feet. "Mostly mustang. But he's got something else in him too- Arab, maybe."

Cieran took a step toward the stallion. The horse half-reared and pulled to the side, snorting and tossing his magestic head. "He don't take kindly to strangers," Ryan warned him, raising a hand as if to stop him. "Trust me, he broke out of his stall last night," Savannah added. Charlie ran a hand nervously through her hair.

"Understand, sir," Cieran said faintly. He took another step toward the stallion, his head down and his hands at his sides. The stallion danced in place, doing a trot-on-the-spot, prancing sideways. The stranger continued to approach him. He made a sound, low, deep in his throat, and started to extend his hand. The stallion's head shot out sideways.

Charlie nearly shouted a warning, but was suddenly struck dumb. Cieran was now standing at the stallion's shoulder, resting one hand on the horse's muscular upper leg and the other on the powerful neck. Murmuring almost silently, he moved in a circle, keeping his hands in place. The stallion followed, prancing. Savannah and Ryan stared. Charlie gaped in amazement. Then with a barely perceptible movement, Cieran tapped the stallion's flank and the stallion leaped sideways and up, tucking his front legs under him and at the height of his leap, shot his legs out behind him in a gravity-defying capriole.

Charlie gasped and her head became so light she nearly sat down. She leaned against the doorframe for support. Then she walked as quickly as she could back into the house.

Her father would never condone such behavior, never. He couldn't. The stallion-

She stopped there. No. The stallion was nothing to her now. Not now. Not after everything that had happened.