The Golden One
The winter winds blew with the ferocity of a feral wolf. With its bitterly cold force chilling even the bravest of knights and fighters to their very soul. In the middle of the brutal snowstorm, a black Wolfan rode on his horse, carrying an infant cub in his arms. To protect it perhaps? Hard to tell. The cub dreamed of the moments he had experienced about 2 moons ago. The sound of an young friend telling him that she would find him again one day. The little cub with fur as golden as the sun, began to whine and cry in the Wolfan's arms. He growled and began to ride toward the small village of Jarlaf, a village on the far outskirts of the kingdom of Carlag. There at the path leading into the village stood a couple of Foxans. The Wolfan knight left the infant Foxan in their care and quickly rode off into the night.
The couple looked at the little infant and thought it a gift to them from Tor and Fenris. For the wife, now barren longed for a child, and the husband longing for a son. When the husband noticed that the cub had an unusual deformity, a green sliver in his left eye. The husband cursed the cub, the wife took the cub and raised him with love until he was 9 years old when she fell ill to a nasty sickness. As her last wish she demanded that her husband let the cub to live, for she felt that something special was meant for him. When she had left for the Red Meadow, the husband forced the nine year old to work out in the fields. He made him work for hours and fed him little.
Suddenly, the angry voice of a male Foxan with fur of bright red yelled, "Ay! What in the name of Wolfbane are you doing asleep?!", waking the now 16 yr old golden furred Foxan from the dream of how he arrived in Jarlaf.
He got up quick, nervous, "Eep! Uh no. No sir. I was merely closing my eyes sir!"
The middle aged Foxan growled at his young nephew, "Don't you dare lie to me you insolent whelp. Get your rear end out there and start feeding the livestock." He ordered with an ice cold glare, pointing to a large sack of feed. He gripped his cane as if trying to decide on if he should beat his nephew.
The adolescent whimpered and cried. "Please don't whip me again. It will never happen again. Please spare me!"
"Oh shut your mouth Matthias, just get your chores done..." The red Foxan said with a grunt as he hobbled over to his cabin. "When your done with that go chop some more wood. The winter is getting worse every sun." he added.
Matthias grabbed the sack of feed, and his ax; setting out for the livestock pens, wiping his tears. "Why do I exist in this un-forsaken world...? My only purpose seems to be tortured, beaten, and tormented. Uncle Bran is right... I am pathetic... Weak... Useless." He muttered to himself, thinking coldly of his hateful Uncle.
The horses greeted him with happy eyes and kind nudges. It appeared that his only friends were the animals on his uncle's large farm. That didn't bother him at all, Matthias had a love for animals and nature itself, that they don't care what he is.
He chuckled at the horses, and poured them their food from the sack of feed. Along with his friendship with the animals the only other good thing about his life was that he had enough strength to lift 3 full grown horses without fail. He gently pet their long faces and moved on to the hogs.
"What's the point of my life... All I do is wake up, get beaten, work, then sleep. Maybe eat if I'm lucky." He began to sob, setting the feed down and resting his back against the fence post. "Why must I be tortured so?!"