A story about Sang, the first ever female to receive the mark of a dragon. Entering a world where males reign supreme, she struggles to prove that a woman has what it takes to be a great rider. Even if the dragon she's paired with is stubborn, moody...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Sang
I weighed a newly made knife in my hand, relishing in the comfort of the smooth leather wrapped tightly around the handle. Safety wasn't the only thing that came to mind while it sat in my hand, although it was appreciated in this area of dense woods on the outskirts of my village. What really caught my eye was the perfect curve of its blade and the way the sun reflected brightly off of it.
The ladies of my village often mocked my obsession for weaponry and hunting, but I would rather lose a limb than spend my days playing dress-up in dreadful skirts and chasing after the local men to secure myself in marriage. I much preferred sticking to my practical pants and shirts, and my old weathered riding boots.
It allowed what I was currently doing, sitting in a tree while keeping watch for a deer. I'd been out all afternoon tracking the evasive animal. Each time I got close, it picked up on my scent and scurried further into the forest. As the day went on, my frustration built.
I took a deep breath through my nose. Some fresh air and the scent of nature was everything I needed. I wished I could stay in the forest, surviving on nothing but my own wits and skills for months to come, but that was out of the question with responsibilities such as mine.
My mother used to be a caring woman and my father a decent man. Years ago, that all changed. All of the herbs and medicines she consumed twisted something deep inside and turned her into an awful, crude person. Each time leaving and starting a new life beckoned me, I had to force myself to stay because she needed someone who was willing to care for her. My sister Marie wouldn't do it. My absent father wouldn't do it. All she had left was me.
How I longed to stay in the woods forever.
Tucking away my stray thoughts of home for later, I gazed at a nearby stream. The snow had finally begun melting from the mountain, allowing more water to rush down into the surrounding forest. When the end of summer crept up, the stream would shrink to half its size, making the perfect bathing area after a hunt. Now, with spring in full force, the rapids crashed over jagged rocks, creating a sound that was as much angry as it was peaceful.
The sun was finally starting to set, casting the bleak forest even darker. The forest floor was shaded all hours of the day due to dense canopies hanging overhead, but when nightfall approached, wicked things approached with it. I expelled a puff of air from my nose and slipped my knife back into my boot, starting my climb back down the tree.
Once my boots touched the moss-covered ground, I started at a light jog, heading south toward our small cottage at the end of Zalfari. Even being an experienced hunter, the forest at evening gave me chills. I'd never had to face off with any of the magical creatures that lived in these lands and thanked the gods for it every single day.
The majority of creatures preferred to stay hidden away from humans, but there was a small portion that didn't. Just last year, a young guard from Zalfari was attacked by a species we know very little about. Wolves. With that grisly memory playing at the back of my mind, I made sure to keep my senses on high alert the entire way home.
•••
Slightly out of breath from the journey, I trekked down the dirt path that went straight through the village. The local tavern, bakery, and blacksmith were still open, and families were still wandering around the marketplace with goods firmly gripped in hand. As they passed, a few familiar faces smiled in greeting.
I entered the blacksmith shop and was immediately greeted with a sight that never failed to bring a grin to my face. Old man Henry stood near one of the workshop tables, a hardened scowl on his soot-covered aged face. Working in the shop could get a bit dirty, that I knew. I cleared my throat to gain his attention, and once it did, Henry's scowl melted away.
"Ah, there you are, my girl. How did the hunt go? Any luck?" He approached to wrap me up in one of his famous hugs. At the age of sixty-five, he had a personality and energy of someone half that age, much to mine and his wife's disappointment.
He frequently worked long, hard hours without a single complaint. Sometimes I wished he'd just give it a rest and stay home with his lovely wife, but the man was even more stubborn than I.
"I was right on the tail of a buck but lost it." Just thinking about the verbal lashing I'd receive once I got home was depressing.
Reading the dread on my face, he offered a pat on the back. "I'm sorry, dear. You know I hate you living there so my offer will always stand."
"I couldn't be more grateful you'd offer to let me stay with you, Henry. I just can't accept," I replied.
"You would be able to check in on her every day after work. Just think about it, okay? Janice and I only want what's best for you," he said out of pure kindness. He never made it a secret how much he hated my family, and if I wasn't so hardheaded, he'd drag me to his cottage and never let me leave.
I nodded absentmindedly while I wondered if that could possibly work. I wouldn't get beat on anymore, wouldn't have to worry about hiding all of my belongings just to keep them safe from Marie's sticky fingers, and most importantly, I'd have a family that actually cared for me.
