A/N: When i was sick, i got this idea and i had to start writing it even though i am in the middle of another story! i hope you enjoy the 1st chapter! please review, i love hearing from everyone! sorry this chapter is so short, i promise the next one will be longer :)
The arrows fell swiftly down on our tiny village warning us of the pending attack. The men hastily picked up their feeble weapons and peered through the mists, looking for our attackers. Women and children fled into the woods "take the children," my father yelled at my mother and I. My mother nodded and quickly gathered up my younger siblings.
"Father, I can fight!" I yelled in protest. I was ready; my father had trained me for battle from birth.
"No," He said harshly and turning around to face me, "For all of our pretending you are just a girl," and with that last word he ran off to join the other men. I felt as through my own father had stuck a knife through my heart.
My anger at his refusal took over my reason, "I hate you!" I yelled at my father. He turned and looked sadly back at me but did not respond.
"Michaela, come quickly," my mother called out to me. I hesitated for a moment and then started to run towards her but then I remembered Bayard, my beloved horse.
"I have to get Bayard!" I yelled to her and sprinted off to the barn.
"We'll wait!" I heard her call back faintly over the pounding of the war drums. The mist had cleared and I could see the men of my village and the Saxons engaged in bloody battle. I heard the war cries and the sound of the out numbered village men being slaughtered in an unfair fight.
When I reached Bayard, it was eerily silent and I knew the battle was over. Unfortunately I also knew victory was not ours. Suddenly the last words I had said to my father ran through my head. I ran out to the battlefield, "Father, father?" I said desperately calling out for him. The village was littered with bodies, I prayed my father was not one of them.
My prayers were not answered, my father's vibrant red hair caught my eye and I ran over. I knelt down beside my father's body, he was covered in blood and a spear was sticking out of his chest. His face was stuck in an expression of horror, as the tears poured down my face, I smoothed his wrinkles and closed his eyes. "I'm so sorry, father," I cried clenching his hand in mine, "I love you!" Then unexpectedly I was jerked up by my hair.
"Well what do we have here?" I heard a deep mocking male voice say.
"Let me go you bastard," I screamed as I turned and spat in his face. He cursed and pushed me to my knees. The Saxon was a large portly man with a pig face and scraggily beard.
He grabbed my hair again and stroked my cheek, "I'll teach you your place, brat!" I breathed in deeply and with shaking hands I drew my knife and plunged it into the Saxon man and before he had time to react, I stabbed him again. Blood spurted onto me and the man gasped as he fell to his knee shocked. The wound I had inflicted upon him was bleeding heavily. Unable able to look at the gasping dying man any longer, I fled in a panic.
"You bitch!" I heard him call after me with his last dying breath. I had never killed anyone before. I kept myself from looking back and ran on until I reached Bayard.
I rode for days until I felt I was at a safe distance and then I rode some more. No matter how far away, I traveled I could not escape the vision of the dying Saxon.
When we reached a river, we stopped to rest and bathe. I was still covered with the Saxon's blood. I felt dirty and sick and I kept hearing the Saxon's last words echo through my head. I hadn't slept in three days. My long hair was matted and covered in dirt, my clothes were covered in blood and falling apart. I looked at my reflection. I looked like a sad and tired little girl. A girl, to me being a girl was a curse. I was a girl and girls were nothing but someone to bear your sons in this world. I was only fifteen and next summer I was to be married to Burke Boris, not that it was going to happen now. I did not want to be his wife or anyone's wife I wanted my own life. A life that meant something.
I took out my knife and washed the blood of my enemy off of it. Then I brought it up to my face and grabbed my long brown hair. In one long cut, I chopped my hair up to my ears. I smiled for the first time in a long time as I watched the hair float downstream, gone from my life forever. This was my last day of being a girl.
I stepped into the cold river and washed away the blood from my body. I scrubbed at my clothes and then laid them out to dry. When my clothes were dry, I ripped the bottom of my tunic off to create a breast band. Luckily my father allowed me to wear pants so I didn't have to try to sew them from a dress. I looked at my reflection, I looked like a boy. I knew what I had to do. I would make the Saxons pay for my father's death and burning the village. I knew I had no chance to defeat the Saxons on my own and so I resolved to join the Young Knights. The Young Knights were a large army of young men from all over, determined to free their people from the Saxons. The Young Knights were the most courageous, strongest and the best fighters of our generation.
They were said to be camped somewhere near the South River, the very river I was at now. So it shouldn't be hard to find them, I thought.
I had been traveling almost non-stop for about three days, so in result both Bayard and I were exhausted. I soon drifted off with faithful Bayard watching over me. After what seemed like only a few minutes, I jerked awake. I had heard a rustling in the bushes across the bank of the river. I stood up quickly and silently, grasping tightly to my knife, waiting for whatever was behind the bushes. If it was a Saxon I would slay him where he stood.
Thanks for reading :) please please review!