This is the first piece of literature I have written. It's not much, I admit, but I was bored. I have always enjoyed history and fiction, so I thought I'd try Historical-Fiction. Enjoy! (if you can)
A small boy ran through the over sized forest. He was breathing hard and had the look of someone who has not eaten for days. He appeared to be around eight or nine years old, but if you looked closer you would see the more developed muscles of a thirteen-year-old. He stood about five feet tall , most of which his lanky legs occupied. There was something about him though. Something that screamed to the world that he was on the run. Maybe the wild look in his eyes gave him away. Or possibly the thinness that accompanied the hunger that consumed him. But the most obvious giveaway was the men and dogs that had been chasing him for days.
He had managed to get a lead on them yesterday by hiding his tracks in a river, but that night he had collapsed. Now they had him surrounded. No, he thought. This can not happen! After four days of this. NO! There must be an escape. The boy looked around. Surrounding him were trees. Nothing else was in sight except a few seemingly random bushes. He thought he saw movement in one of them, but credited it to his tired brain. There appeared to be only one choice. He scrambled up the tallest tree he could find. After about 25 feet a Large Bloodhound lumbered into the clearing followed by two burly men. "We know you're up there, Serf!" he shouted to the trees at large. There were three more men coming into the clearing, accompanied by two Bloodhounds. All three of the horrible dogs ran to the boys tree, barking loudly."Got him," one of the men said as he grinned ear to ear. "No escape for you, Boy." At the word Boy, he spat on the ground next to his foot.
Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, four well muscled men burst out of the bushes the boy had seen. One of them had a bow, and was shooting with deadly accuracy. He had already shot a man in the neck and a dog in the rib before the other men, armed with swords, jumped into the clump of searchers. There was hardly a fight. The four searchers were unprepared, and only one of them had the time and wits to draw his sword. As he started to run away, an arrow spurted out of his back and he tumbled down, dead. Robbers, the boy thought. No better than those soldiers. He jumped out of the tree, but before he could run more than three feet, he heard someone say softly, "Your money and your life," and an arrow hit the boy in his thigh.
To be continued...