"Yaaaaaaawwwn," it was all I could say after the very long day of work, plowing the fields over the hill. I was walking back towards the village where I knew a very poor supper waited for me. All of the other villagers had already made it to the village, but I had lingered in the fields an hour longer, to cut my work just a little shorter for the next day. Just over the hill. I thought to myself. On my way up, I smelled something cooking, but then I realized the smell was no small cooking, it was burning. I ran as quickly as I could up the hill, only to realize my worst fears were true.The village was burning. I dared not move. I didn't want them to find out I was still alive. There were Vikings all walking back to there ships. Each was carrying a sack or trunk, the village's riches I suppose. I laid low until the ships were gone, but there was a handful of them that took the main road of the village and walked towards inland. It was late at night before I lost any sight of them. I dared not make a fire; attention was the only thing I didn't want at the moment. It was very cold, the wind howling and whipping my bare face, arms, and legs. It was to be a long night.
I was awaken by a cry. I got up and hurried towards the village. The crying continued, until I finally found what was creating that noise. It was a little boy, no more than 5 years old. He was sitting near what seemed to be his house. "Are you hurt," I asked him. "N...nn...n.no," he said with a quivering voice. "What's your name, lad," I asked him. "Ch..Ch..Charles,"is what I could make out of the reply that came back. "Good morning, Charles. My name is Ferdinan.." he quickly interrupted. "Where are my parents," he asked, standing up while he was asking. "Well, they're... um.. gone. I'll take care of you until they come back. Come, we must go to the closest village from here, which is just north, I believe." We then started our sad journey to the next village, not knowing what would happen to me, and that little boy, Charles.
I was awaken by a cry. I got up and hurried towards the village. The crying continued, until I finally found what was creating that noise. It was a little boy, no more than 5 years old. He was sitting near what seemed to be his house. "Are you hurt," I asked him. "N...nn...n.no," he said with a quivering voice. "What's your name, lad," I asked him. "Ch..Ch..Charles,"is what I could make out of the reply that came back. "Good morning, Charles. My name is Ferdinan.." he quickly interrupted. "Where are my parents," he asked, standing up while he was asking. "Well, they're... um.. gone. I'll take care of you until they come back. Come, we must go to the closest village from here, which is just north, I believe." We then started our sad journey to the next village, not knowing what would happen to me, and that little boy, Charles.
