A song of flame

Crickets chirped and the wind whispered back. The grassy hill was only illuminated by the moon. The stars hung above piercing through the black blanket of the night attempting to touch the surface with their light. A boy sat on the grass, a sword rested in his lap. his brown hair blew with the rhythm of the wind covering his eyes before raising back to sit gently above his eyebrows. His green eyes were a bright lime colour, his clothes ragged. His skin pristine except for a deep gauge below his eye that travelled along his cheek. He closed his eyes and took three deep breaths, the sound of the katana broke through the wind, silencing the chirping. In this moment it was just him and his blade, he imagined an ogre Infront of him and with each fatal blow came a moan of pain from the tusks of the beast. After five strikes the sword fell from his hand, spinning forwards and cutting a small amount of his hand. He hissed and his arm clutched his bleeding palm. His sword hand was covered in slices and cuts from previous training sessions. After applying a small amount of fabric as a makeshift bandage he turned his head to face the grand hill side, the snow capped mountains attempted to reach the sky peaking their white collars through the clouds. He sighed, disappointed in himself, and picked up his sword before walking back down the hill. The town below bustled with life, lanterns lit the cobble path and thatch hatted houses lined the roads. People walked from tavern to tavern with tankards of mead holding each other in arms, laughing and celebrating. But Alderin did not look up from the road, he carried the katana in a specialised sheath on his back and continued walking down the decorated lane. As he walked further and further the town life died down, and the cobble path narrowed until it became a dirt path. "Please boy, can I have some money" said a rugged man with a raspy voice. Alderin sped up and continued walking, checking over his shoulder so that the hermit would not mug him, until he arrived at his small home. Four cobble walls barely held together with a door that's cracks revealed a tiny candle inside, atop the house the fabric roof blew with every breath that the wind sent barrelling down the lane. He pushed open the door with his hand. "Yura I'm home... Yura?" A rustle came from a small straw made bag on the dirt floor. Alderin crouched beside the bag and placed his hand gently on the tuft of hair from the boy inside. His face grew a smile as he gently brushed the boys hair. Yura coughed and Alderin sat beside the bag before moving his brothers head from the cold dirt floor onto his lap. The smell of mud often put Alderin off from sleep, as so he spent more of his time starting up through the fabric roof into the stars thinking of his life when he will become an adventurer before eventually falling asleep. Before long daylight was breaking the roof of their home. He lifted the boys head from his lap and took off his patchy leather jacket, placing it under Yura's head before standing up. Across the room was a medium sized jug with a crack half way up, Yura had cracked it when he went to get water and fell landing on a rock. Alderin sighed but he reminded himself of how precious his brother is to him and smiled. Grabbing the jug from the corner he walked out of the house before heading down the road to the river. From the slums of the village where Alderin and Yura lived, the river was a beautiful sight. Just past there house down the endless straight road was a big hill where at the bottom a luxurious forest and a beautiful river stretched around the mountain range. With each step he took his smile brightened just a bit more and before long he had made it down the hill and into the forest. Being careful to not bash the jug on a tree Alderin stepped over long entangling roots and reaching branches that pointed sporadically. The mud on his torn shoes seeped through into his feet however he was not discomforted, more connected to nature in a way that the people up the road would not understand.