Dragon Scales

The name's Bella, Bella Grande. I'm a dragon rider. Well I was until the terrible day when my dragon, Fireseeker was taken away from me to be trained for the mighty war of our nation. My father lost his life trying to save Fireseeker. Now I will avenge him. I will kill the gorgeous boy who killed him.


6. In Training

   I have been in training for over a month now, I must admit that I find it hard. Every morn and night I pick up armfuls of hay and then I squat for as long as I can. Then I run to the other side of the barn, lie down and sit up one hundred times with the hay on my chest. Then I pick it all back up and run back. Repeating this twenty times takes it out of you, but I can see results, my muscles are bigger than I have ever seen on anybody. It makes me proud looking at the muscles, it's my work. All my hard work.

   I train in other ways also though, my voice and my actions are very manly and when I walk into the town every night. I order an ale. Nobody gasps because I am a woman drinking ale. But everybody looks at me with some sort of respect. I like that, being seen as superior. 

   Walking into town I cannot see why anybody would want to travel here, rats run free in the streets and the vile stench of sewege hangs around the air. When I look around all that I can see as I look around is woman and small children. All of the men are in the battle, it's why I stick out like a sore thumb here, I am the only 'man' for miles.

   Every time I go to the town I hear a new snippet of news from the women in the bar, most of it is useless farm talk, but then the rest is useful pieces of information about the war in the East the talk of the town: Me. The most shocking thing that I have heard is the rumours about 'Bella Grande' her mother has told everyone that I had taken all of our savings and my mother's  jewellery and run away, away from the grief of losing her beloved dragon and her father, they know about his death, but the officials do not.

When I heard that I was outraged, I ran to the farm,sneaked around the side and sprinted to the barn. I sat on the pile of hay that became known to me as a 'bed' and  stared at the farmhouse, knowing the monster I had called 'Mother' was there. As I was running tears threatened to fall. I was so annoyed, I had to get revenge. But I had to be sneaky and clever, I watched as her silhouette bustled around the farmhouse, turning every lantern off. She finally reached her bedroom. I thought to myself 'It must be so lonely living in a big house like that all alone'.

    But then I remembered that she was lonely in her soul, she didn't miss her daughter and she didn't grieve for her deceased husband. I felt sick thinking of it, sick to the core. I waited for her to put out the flame in her room but she didn't. I guessed that she had fallen asleep and forgotton to put it out. I ran, I would use this to my advantage, I walked straight into the spacious kitchen and put on her fur coat. I lit a candle and tip-toed my way up to the bedroom. I could hear her faint snoring through the thick oak door.

   I walked in confidently, a mix of emotions whirled around my head, pain, anger, pride. I felt so mixed up. I looked at her chubby face, she had worry-lined and wrinkles etched into her weather-beaten face. She looked so peaceful, I made sure I would put an end to that.

   I put down the candle and picked up the glass lantern, I turned on my heels and walked to the wardrobe. I smashed the lantern against the wardrobe.It smashed as my mother woke with a jolt. I watched the orange flames dance on the wardrobe, leaving a deadly black trail. All of the furniture caught fire as I darted out of the room, just before I left I locked eyes with my mother as she mouthed my name. As I ran down the stairs she screamed.

   I made it out with the fur coat still on, I ran to the barn and collected my bag with my few belongings and watched as a chubby woman in her nightdress searched the darkness frantically searching for me. But I was hidden, eventually she ran into the street and started calling desperately for help. Soon my former house was nothing more than a dying flame, a dying flame and a dying memory.

   Karmenna had served me well for the first sixteen years of my life, but now I left it. The people of King Geoffrey were coming again tomorrow, but now I was moving on to bigger, better and brighter things.

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