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Linnith frowned as he slashed at a tree with his practice sword, taking some of his frustrations out on the trunk of the tree. Not long after returning from Gwen’s, on that first visit, Linnith’s father had discovered the dress that she had given him. When Iseld had confronted his son about the garment, Linnith had flushed and said that he thought it was pretty and Gwen had insisted. This only seemed to enrage his father even more and Linnith was dragged out of his room and into the grand room. He had been forced to watch as his father had tossed the gift into the fire place and set it afire.

“I’ll have no son of mine interested in ‘pretty’ things.” Iteld had spit out as he’d slapped Linnith across the face.

It hadn’t taken him long to slip out of his parents’ house and out of the city, disappearing into the forest to ‘practice’ his sword techniques — which basically consisted of many slashes to the tree in front of him. He panted as he took one more swing, his sword sticking into the trunk and him slumping against it, breath coming heavy as he shut his eyes and bit back tears. His father had had no right to destroy that gift. Even if little boys weren’t ‘supposed’ to like things like that. It had likely cost Gwen a pretty penny and now it was nothing but ashes.

Linnith pulled his blade out of the trunk and turned around to lean his back against the tree. Closing his eyes he sighed and let his head fall back. Personally, he didn’t see anything wrong with liking the things he liked. Just because they were ‘girly’ didn’t mean, in his ten year old eyes, that he couldn’t like them. He would never understand why his father had deemed burning the dress to be the correct way of going about things.

Lost in thoughts as he was, Linnith didn’t hear the sound of approaching footsteps until it was too late. Just as his eyes opened up vines wrapped around his middle, trapping his arms and body to the tree in a tight grip. He heard the chatter and rumble of a dragon before the ysali stepped into his line of vision. Linnith’s heart stuttered a moment before slamming against his chest and he started to wriggle. Panic set in as the vines tightened around him even more and he watched as two more dragons joined the first one.

Various scenarios played through his young mind, none of which he survived. They only touched on each way he could die and none of them were pleasant. He whimpered as one of the dragons moved forward. His fingers curled inward, one into a fist and the other...around his sword! That was right, he had a sword with him. Doing his best to calm his nerves Linnith wriggled his arm just enough to get good leverage and pulled up, slicing through the vines with his blade. He collapsed forward, down onto his knees, as the vines fell loose around him.

Linnith looked up just in time to see the first dragon snap and charge forward. For a split second Linnith thought about not moving, just letting the dragons have him. His father would probably be much happier without him. Instinct kicked in a split second later, though, and he was rolling avoiding the sharp teeth and claws of the ysali just in time. However, he didn’t account for the dragon’s tail and as he swung around, it hit him square in the stomach, knocking the wind from him and causing him to tumbled over. The dragon swiveled, pouncing on Linnith and biting down on his arm. He screamed out as he felt the trickle of blood down his arm and pain blinded him for a moment. Without thinking, Linnith brought his sword up, stabbing into the side of the dragon. For a moment, Linnith starred the dragon in the eyes and then in the next it was disappearing into dust and leaving behind a soul orb in his lap.

Linnith didn’t have much time to reflect on his kill before the other two dragons were snarling and coming after him. Snatching up the orb, Linnith ignored the pain in his arm and took off running. It was in that moment that he wished his father would allow him to practice with something long range, like his mother. An arrow would have been handy right about this second — though with his arm injured like it was, he wasn’t even sure that would help him. However, Iseld was adamant that his only son would follow in his footsteps. So a sword was what he had been given and it was what he was expected to choose as his imprinted weapon.

Linnith’s legs ached and burned as he stumbled, allowing the dragons to gain a few feet on him. By the time he broke free of the trees, sweat covered his face and neck and soaked into his shirt. He sprinted, as fast as he could and didn’t look back until he was halfway back to the city walls and no longer heard the steps close behind him. He skidded to a halt, turning and leaning forward to rest his hands on his knees and breath in deep. Just off in the distance, not far from the forest, the dragons had stopped and were now pacing. They seemed to know the dangers of venturing too close to the city walls and had hung back, despite the want to get revenge for their fallen friend.

Linnith winced as he stood up and glanced down at his arm. Blood was still seeping out, the bite wounds deep and painful. Bringing his pack off his shoulder he squatted down and fished out his bandages and rags. He made quick work of cleaning up the wounds as best he could but he knew that he’d need to do more cleaning back at home. For now, he stashed the ysali orb into his pack and headed back towards the city gate.