Chapter 1 - Bring Out the Fire

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14 years later...

In the middle of the village lies a storeroom where Khampa kept away all musical instruments as part of his initiative to prevent distracting Bodi from learning to use the "Fire". This includes the guitar he got as a gift.


That has not stopped Bodi.


Dressed in a traditional shirt, brown pants and wearing a much larger green beanie than the one he had worn since youth, Bodi grabbed the door handles with both paws, trying to wrestle it through, not knowing his Dad padlocked it.


He remembered playing music around the village, accompanied by the smiles from his dad, mum and Uncle Fleetwood and the lambs. Those good days were gone, however.


Now 18, Bodi stared his eyes at the storeroom. There was absolutely no way he could get his makeshift guitar back. Not when his father was around to boss him and he had to endure hours and hours of training and home-school just so that one day, he could unleash his "Fire" within and protect the lambs from another wolf invasion.


He wanted none of that. All he wants is music.


With a huge sigh, he strolled his way back home.


8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8



Snow Mountain had not changed for the past century (well, apart from facelifts and renovations) as he walked past the sprawling houses that reside most of the lambs. Dawn has broken, and some lambs had already woken, ready for another day of manual work in the village. Sure, the lambs may be dim-witted and had no sense of direction, but there is a reason Fleetwood awoke as well: he's in charge of that.


As Uncle Fleetwood made his appearance, the old, white hair and beard, brown tunic (Bodi has never seen Fleetwood wearing anything but that in a long time) and a wrinkly, but cheerful face everything he sees Bodi. To the young mastiff, he always considered Fleetwood to be part of his family.


"Morning, Uncle Fleetwood!" cheered Bodi.


"Good morning, my precious! Going back home?"


"Yup, dad's doing 'Fire' training today," Bodi replied.


"Not exciting, isn't it?" Fleetwood asked back, hoping to witness some uneasiness.


"Nope, I'm ok with that, Fleetwood. Well, gotta go!" Bodi waved goodbye to the yak.


Fleetwood bade him farewell: "You too!"


With a sense of dread, Bodi trudged on. He knew what was coming when he gets back.


The frown was onto him by the time he got home.


8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8

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