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This story is written by Kay! Follow us to read Liza's stories, too. :)

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Daggor presses his knife against the grinding wheel, hearing the satisfying hiss that came. The sparks flew, showing he was getting a great sharpen.
Sharp enough to penetrate dragon scales, he hoped.
He would kill those dragons. They had slaughtered his mum, as his grandmother said.
He didn't know about his father. His elders refused to tell him, so Daggor assumed he must be pretty bad.
Enough to leave his wife and child?
He probably wouldn't want to know the man anyways.
His grandmother hobbled into the room, squinting at him. She was holding a cloth woven bag.
"Oh, Daggor," She cooned gently. The boy looked up at her with cold eyes.
"I've brought you lunch, and there's a bag of supplies on the counter..."
Daggor smiles slightly, something he hadn't done in a while.
Someone did care.
He set the knife down on the scratched table and jogged over, wrapping his arms around the elderly woman.
He felt all her scars from past battles. She may be old, but she had a history to tell, and a past interwoven with his grandfather's. Both his mum and grandmother refused to tell about him.
"Thank you, grandmum," Daggor said, taking the cloth. Grandmother smiled at him.
"I know I won't get to see you before you leave, so be safe, and don't get set on fire!" As usual, she put humor into her tone.
He nodded, chuckling. Then he used his calloused fingers to open the roughly woven bag, revealing goat cheese, a generous amount of milk, and some fresh bread. His family had always been poor, and he looked at grandmother in awe.
"How did you get all this?! And why aren't you keeping it for yourself?!" Daggor demanded.
"Oh, son, son, son... you're a growing child. You need it more than my shriveled bones do!"
Daggor sighed and nodded slowly, breaking off half the hunk of goat cheese and handing it to her. Grandmother smiled softly.
"Make sure to eat up. There's a bag of stuff I've been putting together for months on the counter... be safe!" Grandmother hobbled our once more, her dress trailing behind her.
Daggor sat down, opening the bottle of milk. He took a sip, feeling the creamy substance against his tongue. It tasted amazing!
The boy felt important as he took a bite of the smooth goat cheese, made by grandmother's goats.
He wished he could eat like this every day!
He felt like a king.
A king about to slay a dragon.

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