Taken By a Dragonlord (first draft)

A Disgrace

LoganT. Drake
''This simply isn't an adventure worth telling if there aren't any dragons...''
~ Unknown
I run from the dog snapping at my heels, I gasp for breath. My bare feet pound on the dirt road towards the house before me. I manage to undo the latch on the gate to get inside. I slam the door into the Dog's face.
I breathe hard, wiping my sweaty white hair out of my face. The dog's muzzle is through the wooden fence, its jaws still snapping yearning for blood. I put my hand over my chest as I stagger up the path to the house. My muddy skirts hang in tatters and my corset is making it hard to breathe. My bitten ankle throbs dully in pain, fresh blood runs over the partially dry blood. I come up to the house I almost walk inside but I hear the soft clatter of my forbidden dual light swords brushing together in their sheath. I grimace and limp to the fallen trunk around the side of the house, I stash them into it. I almost fall as I turn around swiftly, forgetting the gash wound in my ankle. I cry out faintly in pain. I make it around the house, hiking up my skirts to step up the stairs leading to the front door, blood leaving a trail. I stagger into the house, and I'm met by one of the servants.
Her annoyed expression doesn't escape my notice as it quickly turn to a polite smile. She bows, her plain brown hair falling over her shoulder, ''Mrs TenderLeaf.''
I nod formally. She looks me up and down with a poorly hidden look of disgust with her dark brown eyes, her gaze turns to a look of horror as she takes in my bloodied feet caked in mud.
''Again, Miss? Again?''
I grimace as she ushers me upstairs and into my room, undoubtfully trying to keep me out of sight. She draws a bath in my private quarters. ''Hurry so I can take a look at it.'' She says pointedly to my foot.
I nod and I wait till she leaves before I undress. I cautiously slide into the warm water with a sigh of relief, though the wound burns at the heat. I lather my muddy white hair with lavender bar of soap. I quickly wash the rest of my body then I get down to the last foot, the one riving in pain. I clench my teeth and I brace myself as I start to ever so slowly clean it, turning the water near my feet murky with mud and blood.
I take in a breath before submerging my hair and face into the water. I quickly run my hands through it to rinse out the suds. Once I'm out of breath and my hair shining white, I enter the world again, leaving my little bubble of calm and solitude.
***
I sit fully dressed in a tunic and worn trousers on my bed as the maid, Gretchen, cleans out my bite wound again with a wet cloth. My hands are tangled in the sheets as I try not to accidentally send Gretchen across the room in a single kick of pain.
I close my eyes as she soothingly wraps my foot with a sort of cloth.
''Thank you.'' I say as she turns to leave.
She nods with shock at hearing my little used voice, she has only heard it five times now, I've been counting.
She leaves the room in a stunned silence, closing the door softly behind.
I lay back in the covers in my four poster bed. My hands resting behind my head, my eyes once again closed.
***
Once again dressed in a clean dress and corset, I limp down the stairs at supper.
I sit at the end of the long table next to my mother, my father sits at the head of the table. I glance at my five sisters and their five husbands sitting together, looking happy. I am the fifth of the six in the household. Sara and William Timberlin sit on the other side of the table in all their red as fire hair of glory, being the oldest at twenty five and twenty six summers. Jane and Jules Firewim sit next to them at twenty four and twenty six summers, Jules' big green eyes stand out against his wife's brown eyes. Julia and Finnegan Glassif are next with twenty-two and twenty-five summers, their blonde hair and blue eyes are exactly the same in color. Anne and James HallowWay sit beside me at twenty-one and twenty-three summers. Anne's black hair is in deep contrast to her husbands light brown hair. Then lastly, Mary and Seth GlatterField, at seventeen and nineteen summers. Being newlyweds, They get the first serving as is the tradition.
I sit in the so called chair of shame, which means the seat beside my mother, being eighteen summers and not wed is a high disgrace, I'm surprised that I was even invited to the family dinner, instead of the food being sent to my quarters. My mothers look of rejoicing, revenge, hate and relief does not escape my notice.
What is she so happy about? I haven't seen her this happy since she thought the dog had finally gotten to me two years ago.
I sit with awkwardness, not meeting the eyes of anyone. I learned early in my life to never meet anyone's eye because my mother told me that my intense grey eyes together with my unnatural white hair and fair skin unsettled everyone who gazed in them, Even my own family.
I softly pick up the spoon and I start to bring it to my mouth once I see the others start to eat. There is a noticeable silence hanging in the air except for the soft ding of utensils hitting plates and the light sound of food being eaten. And I can tell it's because of me, when I eavesdrop on the occasional supper, I can hear laughing and talking all the way up in my room. Even before I walked in here today, they were having a great time, the second that I had walked in, the sound stopped as if a blanket had been thrown over a light and the light now no longer exists, like the sound.
I want to crawl under a rock and die from the cutting and smug glances my mother is giving me when my siblings aren't looking.
***
I flop unto my bed, very unladylike, as my mother would say. I roll my eyes. Gretchen comes in with new sheets for my bed. I slide off with an uneasy gracefulness, for some reason it unsettles folks in the town. Especially considering my foot is in a splint and continuously bleeding. Gretchen stands as she finishes taking the dirty sheets off my bed. She stands awkwardly at the door.
''What is it Gretchen?'' I ask pointedly.
Gretchen bows, ''My lady.'' She hesitates before saying, ''King Hadlin has outlawed magic and sorcery.'' She waits for a response. I have none, I don't do magic. But the others, the whole town, believes that I do.
''Yes, I know, what does it have to do with me?'' I ask curiously.
''All accused are to be executed.'' As in, head chopped off, or hanged, or drowned, or even burned at the stake. It is different in every town, which I find unsettling. Ours is the town that drowns wrongdoers, since we have a lake rumored to hold demons and death in its dark depths.
''And?'' I inquire, though I already know the answer, I just don't want to think it.
Gretchen looks at her feet, ''You have been the first accused in Lynnwood.''
I squeeze my eyes shut, ''By who, Who has accused me of this.'' I choke out.
Gretchen looks down, ''I think you already know.''
My breath catches, ''Mother.''
Gretchen doesn't answer she looks up for once in my eyes, ''You have three days before they come for you.''
I look down, ''Thank you.''