STRONG- Chapter 1
#1 of Strong
This was one of my English assignment for a 1000-word essay on random topic. I didn't submit it on time...Anyway, this is the first chapter of Strong, heavily inspired by "Fable: The Lost Chapter". Enjoy my first long story! Critics are greatly appreciated!
Updated: paragraphs are broken down, few grammar errors fixed (may be there are more, help)
Deep in the forest of Adon laid a small town of Xayall, unchanged by time and untouched by the sword.
Here lived a young wolf and his family. A young wolf who dreaming of greatness, of one day being a Hero. Sometimes he imagined as a noble knight, or a powerful wizard. And other time he dreamt he'd be an evil warrior. But all his dreams of greatness, he could not imagine the power of the destiny that lay before him. His name was Cinder Fable.
***
In the nearby wood, evening sky shone warmly upon a young brown figure. The figure, was not huge nor mighty, rather small and kind. The small figure had lustrous blue eyes, a thin brownish furry coat wrapped around its lack-of-muscle body, and a bushy tail drooped down in frustration.
Cinder was trying to bring some woods back to his family, at the end of the town Xayall. Even though his only limitation was his fragile body, not very strong of his kind, that didn't stop the young determined wolf from repeatedly shoving the sharp-edged axe into the small though hardened-by-nature tree trunk. It had been almost half an hour and the axe had only made through half of trunk's width.
The young boy is bounded to let his sickened father a shoulder to bear the family burden. He had been on his bed for days, and seemed to be it would worsen through time. Sweat flowed down Cinder's muzzle, dropped down on the agitated ground where he had stood so long and struggled so relentless. He wiped his wet face with his damped arms, so many effort had been putted in, he would not give up.
Finally, time passed without notice, a series of different wooden crunches straightened Cinder's ears, as the tree had finally yielded to hardened blade and will of steel, fell limply to the ground.
Cinder dropped his axe onto the ground with a low thud, panting with delight. A picture of his family could settle around the warm fireplace together for another few days, putted a smile on his muzzle and somewhat stiffened his undulated body from the harsh evening. Though a nice rest on the green, soft ground of Mother Adon sounded fantastic, but his parents' worried minds of their son's late return mounted his will to march straight back home without much of a break. Looking at the untrimmed trunk and the vexed trail home he was about to experience, Cinder's hands rested upon his hips, before a long sigh escaped his lips. But at the same time, he was determined to no further delay of his departure, and no delay it would be.
Before he could reach down and grab his axe, a faint orange light caught his attention. It was coming from the direction of the village. At first, he thought it was only the sun descending down the horizon. Still, further he focused on the light, it was not as constant as normal sun light, but rather distorted. Seconds later, fear had crept all over his face. Mumbled of uncomprehends, Cinder left all his hard work behind and raced against time back to the village. It was no ordinary sunlight of sunset.
It was the light of a burning village.
***
Evil had come to Xayall. Dragons in black armor wielding torches and steels, raping and burning all in their paths. Blood red flames arose from houses, streets and fleshes of people. Villagers begged for mercy, but their furious attackers filled their burnt and ripped bodies upon the streets. Clashes of steel and steel, steel and flesh, and screams of tortured innocent souls overfilled what this serene and harmless village could ever worth to be born. Soon Xayall would be a village of deaths and ashes.
Inevitably, the unknown raiders reached the last house, where Cinder and his family lived. The father, who was still badly sickened, rose and fought to protect his kin. Despite all his strength and will he had put into this last stand, he was no warrior, and fell mortally wounded. His wife and younger cub were their last victims. The mother remained silent, while the son screamed and burst tears in great horror, wondering what had happened to his father and brother, so wandered in terror surrounded by dragons with blood dipped steels, and his burning home. They were hopeless, and finally, mercilessly, their blood-thirsty invaders took them both.
From the nearby woods, Cinder hid and watched as all he knew was taken away, his whole life was crushed into nothingness.
He was alone.