The Last Moon Dragon

PSA to idiots on the internet who think it's ok to plagiarise, this story has already been reposted once by a user on wattpad and I (OP / author) reported them immediately. Don't copy and paste other people's stuff. It's against the law. Think of your own idea before stealing an 11 year old's. CAUTION: TWO YEAR OLD DRAFT VERSION. FULL OF SPELLING MISTAKES AND OTHER GRAMMATICAL ERRORS. "The kingdom of Heriven isn't exactly the best place to live. Ruled by a twisted King and a power-hungry Baron, the poor exist to serve the rich. Attacks from other kingdoms have finally ceased over hundreds of years, but only because of a bigger problem. Other places have infestations of lice and vermin, Heriven has dragons. Although there has not been a dragon sighted in the kingdom for over a decade, and the people are at ease, it won't be long before it all changes, and a legendary dragon shall make its reappearance...This was voted best Fantasy Movella 2012

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46. The Stables

Fletch was shovelling the dirty hay slowly, his face gaunt and his eyes dead. His father gave him a nudge.

"Hurry up, lad. What's with you?"

Fletch threw down the shovel. It clanged on the rough floor. A couple of the horses neighed and shook their heads in surprise.

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together.

"I miss Pike." he said, quietly, half-hoping his father wouldn't hear him. Fletch's father knew about Fletch's quiet friend. But he was also aware of his situation. His father was locked away, and his mother gone. Pike was surely dead - or dying.

"I know," he said, gruffly. It wasn't a long reply, but Fletch knew he understood.

Suddenly, Fletch opened the door of the stable.

"Where do you think you're going?" asked his father.

"To find them. I can't stand it here any longer!" cried Fletch.

He tried to run but his father caught him by the scruff of his neck.

"Have you forgotten we're trapped like rats in here?" he hissed at Fletch. "No use running, boy, you wouldn't make it to the gatehouse."

Fletch panted for breath.

"Here," his father said, handing him a rusty pail. "Get some water for Zell."

"Is she still ill?" Fletch said.

"Well, she hasn't exactly been getting very much air, has she? Last time the Baron rode her was for that jousting tournament months ago."

Fletch took the pail and rushed to the well. He wondered about Ocello, Pike and Kytra. If Pike wasn't dead, Ocello would have found him, probably. Maybe Kytra was with them too.

He sniffed and lowered the pail into the ground. They'd obviously forgotten his existence.

Fletch shook his head. He didn't want to think that way. They were his friends, weren't they? They couldn't have forgotten him. He walked back to the stables, keeping his head low.

His father was talking to Old Keith, an aging blacksmith, at the door of the stables. Fletch decided to go around the back. He had no resentment towards Old Keith, but his frail stature and grey eyes reminded Fletch too much of Pike's father, now left to rot in the castle dungeons.

He opened the back door with difficulty; the lock was old and stiff from years of neglect. Fletch slipped inside and put the pail in Zell's stall. She gulped the water as Fletch stroked her chestnut mane. Although it was rough and dirty, Fletch still though she was beautiful. The Baron was evil to leave her here, forget about her.

Fletch pressed his lips to the side of Zell's head before going up the ladder to where he and his father slept. He lay down on the hard floor and thought of how he could escape. They were crazy fantasies, of course - but it was better than thinking about Pike and Ocello.

Maybe he could light a barrel of wine on fire and set the whole bailey alight - in the confusion he could slip through the gate. Or maybe he could somehow strip an archer of his bow and shoot all of the guards...

Fletch fell asleep. And when he woke, he felt worse than ever. He had to find some way, any way, to get out of the castle walls.

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