Heaving it into the little boat, he upended it, dumping its contents to the floor of the coracle with a clatter to join the twoscore specimens that already lay there. Well, he didn’t take kindly to slaves in general, but he was harsher to those that didn’t fill their coracles by the end of the day.Ĭolan reached down with one paw and unhooked the bag around his waist. Captain Ripfur, who oversaw the fishing and diving, and loved to embarrass and needle the slaves under him as much as possible, didn’t take kindly to slackers. Thinking of that reminded Colan that he still needed to work. Colan counted himself lucky that he was a diver the overseers couldn’t push him so hard. Squirrels, mice, shrews, and some otters were working in the fields, pushed ever faster by the whips of their overseers.
Glims on the stuff mafia saying crack#
The scene would’ve been peaceful, had it not been for the crack of the whip and the cries of its victims that echoed across the water. Behind the palace, green-leafed trees swayed in the salt breeze. Colan’s father, Athuran, had told him that the finishing touches had been put on the palace when he was sixteen seasons old, the same age as Colan. Perched on a hill some distance away was a white stone palace. A clean white beach separated the sea from rolling fields of crops. Looking over the opposite side of the coracle, he studied the island he called home. Swimming over to the coracle he had anchored not far away, he pulled himself halfway out of the water. The warm salt breeze sweeping towards the island off the sea tickled his nose, and Colan sneezed. He broke the surface, blinking at the bright spring sun. And if he didn’t perform well…well, he’d just do his job and not think of that. The pull of the bulging bag on his belt reminded him of the fact that he wasn’t here for fun, he had a job. Bubbles surrounded him as he spiraled upwards through the aquamarine depths.
The water is warm today, thought Colan as he kicked upwards off the seafloor towards the surface. The fails of the throng, Enough for a Prince to give up his kingdom? “It all began one day in late spring, many, many, seasons ago…”īook 1: The Palace A fated friendship, a prince and a slave, ' Though neither were extraordinary, both were brave. Let’s begin before I ruin the end as well.” “Now there I go giving away part of the story. This tale centers around an unlikely friendship between a prince and a slave.” The old squirrel shook his head.
Both trust and mistrust play a large part in my story. Settle yourself in, it’s quite a tale I have to tell, about slaves, injustice, and split families. Not many come to hear ancient history, even if I did live it. It’s been far too long since I’ve had a visitor. “Come in out of the darkness and storm, my friend. A smile broke over his features as he waved the wanderer in. His once red fur was now a silvery gray, and his nimble limbs now creaked with rheumatism. The smell of smoke hung heavy in the air, its sweet muskiness lending the cave a homely feel.Ī shape at the edge of the fire stirred, looking up at the intruder. Through the downpour, a glimmer of light showed itself from the mouth of a cave. Not a single hair was left exposed to the storm. He was a blur in a landscape of blurs, cloak puttied tight about him and hood up. The wind whipped him mercilessly and tried to snatch away the cloak that covered him.
The traveler’s footpaws squelched in the sticky mud as he fought his way through the storm. Rain fell in thick sheets, blurring trees, rock, and shrub into one gray mass. (I wouldn't put pencil to paper willingly, I had graphophobia) You gave me the prompting to start a story, even though I hated writing when I started. To Shieldmaiden, for asking me as soon as I got on whether I was goin' to write fanfics or draw art. Reader Discretion is Advised Dedications
Glims on the stuff mafia saying update#
The Rise of Freedom was once the featured fanfiction on the index! It is recognized to be spectacular! Please update regularly!
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