Nathan had almost preferred the classroom.
Just a week after being admitted into the town farm's youth program, he was out sowing the fields. He had thought that it couldn't get much worse then the muggy classroom, with some old farmer that he didn't know droning on about responsibility and proper farming technique. Now, however, he found himself sweating in the sun, with his throat parched and blisters forming rapidly on his hands. Yes, even the classroom was better then this.
Nathan had very little tolerance for the whole idea of himself farming. Of course, he knew that it was necessary. Every teen between the ages of 15-16 had to come out of the walls for their farming apprenticeship when planting season came about. It was supposed to give them a healthy respect for the food that they found on their plates. However, this simply led to most teens loathing their work. To them, the compulsory farming was simply a barrier that had to be crossed to reach where they wanted to be in the town.
As the rough wooden handle of the tool Nathan was wielding began to splinter into his skin, he imagined the wall sprouting barbed wire across the top.
The hope was that the section of field he was working on would soon be flourishing with carrots, with which some would go straight to the dinner tables whereas the rest would be used to feed the towns' hungry pig population. He felt like he could take little pride in his wok if he was only skilled enough to produce pig food.
"Hey!" snapped an older girl working near Nathan, "We rest when we're told to rest, not when we feel like it. Alright?"
Realizing that, lost in his thoughts, he'd stopped working, Nathan hurriedly leaned back over the earth. Clearly, working on a farm required discipline. A twinge of dislike for the girl who'd shouted at him momentarily flared up, but then he realized that, if he was still stuck on this farm in a few years, he'd be saying the same things. The girl had probably been working at the farm for two or three summers already. Assuming that the discipline was tight when she started working on the farm, she certainly wasn't going to go easy on the new recruits in her position.
Still, with the farm set up so that the more senior farmers were always watching the new teens, Nathan couldn't help but feel like he didn't get a break over the next few days.
There was nothing to be done about it, though. So Nathan bent his back and kept on working.

A few days later, after a particularly rough day at the farm, Nathan was relieved to be able to stumble through his front door. The house was not particularly grand; a two-level affair made out of the stock oak wood and cobblestone. Even this, however, was pretty good as far as houses went in the village. Most resources were spent towards maintaining the towns' defences, not making luxury homes. Inside, he found both his parents and younger sister just finishing their supper. His brother was nowhere to be found, working long hours as he was up at the armoury. He planned to one day become a blacksmith. Weapons, armour, even iron stakes were needed far too much in the village. The town needed good blacksmiths to make the tools of war. There could be no faults in any material made, as any fault could claim a citizen's life. Nick often came home looking stressed, praying that he'd be able to master his craft well enough so as to move from an apprentice to a full-fledged blacksmith. In a war-torn land, a blacksmith is one of the most important citizens.
"Nathan!" Smiled his mother as he came in. "We just finished eating. Help yourself to some steak, it's still warm."
"Hey," said Nathan as he kicked off his muddy boots and moved towards the kitchen. "When's Nick coming home?"
"Not till late," said his mother. "Apparently Mr. Kravetski is teaching him some new technique for hardening metal. All of that stuff just goes over my head."
Having filled his plate, Nathan went and sat down at the table, where the rest of his family remained. His 12-year-old sister Lily knocked her remaining vegetables around her plate.
"How was your day at work, dad?" He asked his father. A well built, though tired looking man, Herbert Johnson worked as a mason. The city wall was under a constant barrage, and therefore had to be repaired daily.
"Pretty easy, actually," he said grimly. Nathan glanced worriedly up. "We all know what that means," continued his father. "Those damn mobs will be hitting hard these next few nights."
Nathan's mother, Christine, reached over and gave his father a light smack on the hand.
"Language, dear!" she said with a pointed look at Lily. Lily, Nathan and their father rolled their eyes as one.
Nathan glanced outside at the rapidly setting sun. He hoped that Nick would be back home soon. The wall guards- guardians, the townspeople called them- were good warriors, but historically, on the really bad nights, some mobs had been able to creep over the wall and into the streets. Sometimes the guardians could even be killed. And then the mobs had reign of the streets, attacking homes, attacking anyone stupid enough to be out past nightfall. Everyone in the village, therefore, had some skill with the sword out of necessity. Nathan didn't like the thought of Nick out alone at night, even with the guardians patrolling. As his father had said, the mobs had been quiet the last few nights. And that usually meant that a horde of them was just over the horizon.
Trying not to think about all of this too much, Nathan finished his supper, excused himself, went to his room and collapsed down onto his bed. It had been a long day, and he needed to rest for the next one. Soon, despite his fears, the strains of the day caught up with him and he fell asleep.
Even as he lost consciousness, a creature stirred in the darkness. It had never been disturbed before- but the ragged howls of its comrade were waking it from its rest. With a snarl, its black eyes opened to the night.