2nd Person POV

Your (last) summer adventure
           You keep telling yourself that it is okay. That's what you've expected anyway. Who cares that you weren't chosen. You won't be living much longer anyway. After all, winter is coming! You know that you won't survive another winter. And you barely survived the last one. Although it is still summer, you can already feel the chill in your bones. This will be your last summer. So you decide to make full use of it. You say your farewells. Mom and dad are sad to see you go, but they don't stop you. You pack your stuff into a backpack. You don't bring much, just a few sets of clothes, a loaf of bread, some biscuits, dried meats and a few apples. Mainly just clothes and food that wouldn't go bad. And you bring Goldie for company. Goldie is your pet hen. You got her last year when she was still a golden chick. Although her feathers are brown now, you still call her Goldie. So, with everything packed, you set out eagerly for the adventure of a lifetime.
            As you take those first steps, your mind is already going wild with all sorts of crazy thoughts. Who would you meet? A knight? That would be a dream. Thiefs? Hopefully not. Actually, you think that would be fun, but only if they weren't the bad type. You would like to meet good thiefs. The kind that robs the rich to help the poor. Perhaps if you arelucky, you would meet a Wizard who would apprentice you and teach you magic! Perhaps you will even meet a healer that could cure you! That would be awesome won't it? Then you won't have to die. Or perhaps you would meet a lion, who would eat you. Or perhaps you would just fall down a hole and die. So many thoughts are flying through your head as you head out of the village.
            It doesn't take long before your feet start to ache. Your fail body is already trying to protest the adventure. Your shoulders feel tired and the backpack feels so heavy. You see a nice green spot of grass by the roadside and decide to take a break. You fling off the backpack and sit down on your backside. Then you take out a loaf of bread from your backpack and break it in half. You eat some and toss a few chunks to Goldie. She eagerly pecks it up. But Goldie wants more. The starts cooing, begging you fore more. But enough is enough, so you shoo her off instead. She squawks and begins pecking at the grass instead.
             You have barely rested when you suddenly hear a rumbling sound. You turn and see a wagon rambling down the road. It has come from the village. You see that Master Aeries, the village blacksmith is driving the wagon. He stops the wagon when he comes near. You greet the old man with a smile.
             "What are you doing here, boy?" asks Master Aeries.
             "Just resting, sir," you say.
            "You'd best be heading back," Master Aeries says. "It isn't safe out here. There are brigands about. Outside the village, it isn't safe. You should know that."
              You do know that. After all, your father just told you this morning. But obviously, you don't listen to Master Aeries.
             "I'm adventuring," you say instead. "Where are you heading sir?"
              "There's a caravan carnival in Tinstletown. I'll be selling some wares there." Master Aeries said.
             "Do you think I could hitch a ride with you, sir?" you ask in your sweetest voice. A wagon ride would certainly speed up the adventure. "I was heading there myself," you add.
             Master Aeries eyes you warily. You just smile back.
             "Pah! You should run  back home now," he says instead. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
             Without another word, the stinking old man cracks the whip and the wagon begins rolling down the road.
              As you watch your ride disappear, you realise that opportunity should not be wasted. So you get off your backside, sling on your backpack, catch Goldie and dash after the wagon. And somehow, even though you are so weak, you manage to climb onto the back of the wagon. Not bad for a dying boy. So you sit there, with your legs hanging off the ledge, with Goldie squawking in your arms. You pet her and hope she shuts up. It won't be good if Master Aeries discovers you.
             Sitting at the back of the wagon is rather uncomfortable. Your legs are already numb from hanging off the back, so you lift them onto the wagon instead. Bad mistake. Instantly, pins and needles strike and you almost cry out in pain. Once the sensation passes, you take out an apple from your backpack and nibble on it. It is a hard apple and it hurts your gums. You wish that you had a knife. It was silly of you not to bring a knife. It could come in handy if you meet some brigands. It would be good to stick it into their gut. You toss a piece of apple skin over to Goldie but she refuses to even look at it. She is still flustered. Just then, the wagon rolls over a stone again, and it sends a jolt through your backside. Goldie begins squawking again. So you put the apple into your mouth and begin coddling Goldie again with your free hands. At least you manage to quiet her.
          The journey is rather boring and not turning out like what you had imagined. At the very least, you should have met some brigands by now. Several hours have passed, although you are not sure exactly how many. You can't tell because everywhere around you, is just greenery. You totally loose track of time. Conifers everywhere. So boring. You almost fall asleep. No sign of brigands anywhere. When you need to pee, you just stand up and do your business. But you are careful and hang on tightly to the wagon with your free hand. Your urine stream hisses as it hits the dusty yellow road below. After about the twentieth time squawking like a mad cow, Goldie finally gets used to the jolts. Instead of squawking here and there, she begins pacing up and down. She is bored, just like you.
               Finally, when the sun is already setting, you reach Tinstletown. It is awkward watching the scene from reverse. You see the massive gatehouse first, then the twenty foot walls, then the dashing guards upon the walls. The guards look like knights! They are clad in black leather armor, and all have longswords hanging at their hips. There are about ten of them, and each carries a crossbow. You are quite impressed. Their crossbows are ready to fire! Perhaps there are brigands after all. The wagon rolls on, and soon you lose sight of them. Instead, you start seeing houses and other buildings. They are made of stone or brick, unlike the wooden houses in your village. And they are all painted. Most white or cream, although you do see some blue and green houses too.
           Finally, your adventure truly begins. There are so many people in Tinstletown. And the people here don't even notice you when you stare at them. This is your kind of place. You could fit in here, blend in with the crowd. No one would recognise you as "The sickly boy" here. As the wagon rolls on, you hear music, shouting, laughter, grunting and all sorts of noise. You can't tell what is making it, but you conclude that it must be the carnival. True enough, you begin seeing some caravans, and just like that, the wagon stops. So sudden that you are almost jolted off. You quickly put on your backpack, pick Goldie up, and jump off the wagon. You don't want Master Aeries to find you here, so you quickly run into crowd.
          With Goldie in your arms, you begin exploring the caravan carnival. You see all sorts of odd things, things that you don't know what they are. But you do recognise some things; jewelry, trinkets, tools, books, clothes, food. Each caravan has a table out with wares displayed. And each caravan is different. Even though they sell trinkets, but all are different. You look at everything but don't touch. You don't have any money anyway. The sellers are mostly adults, although you do see a few boys your age helping with the sale. Maybe you could get a job tomorrow. All in all, you count about 30 caravans. And so you continue your adventure, while taking care to avoid Master Aeries.
            You stop to listen to a trio of singers sing a song. The music is odd, beautiful, but strangely haunting. Their voices, one low, one medium and one high, provide the melody and harmony. They don't use any instruments. It is unlike anything you have heard. So you stand there, like a moth drawn to a lamp, listening to them. After each song, you notice that some of the audience would toss a coin into a collecting dish. The collecting is nearly full by the time you come to the 6th song. It's a rather good business after all. And they don't even have anything to sell. Since it is getting late, you force yourself away and continue your adventure.
             The tantalising smell of roasting meat lures you like a bull led by his nose ring. It is getting late and you are getting hungry. You wish you had some coin. You watch the skewered meat roasting above a charcoal grill. You see the fat dripping, sizzling onto the embers. Every once in awhile, the cook would fan, and the charcoal flares back to life. You force yourself away, it is too tempting. It makes your stomach rumble. what an adventure indeed. By now, it is already very late, and almost dark. You suddenly shiver. A creepy feeling creeps over you. Something sinister is near. Perhaps it is the clowns, or the freak show at the next caravan. Goldie eyes them suspiciously. Especially the dwarf carrying a battleaxe. You feel a chill  and don't like it one bit. So you leave the caravan carnival.
             You find your way to the townsquare. By now, the sun has already set, so the only light comes from the street lamps. It is dark, but at least not completely dark. You have dinner, some bread and some dried meat. You feed Goldie some bread too, and soon she is asleep in your arms. You try to find a place where you can rest, somewhere not too open. Somewhere safe. You manage to find a hole and you crawl into it. You feel so lonely and cold, and you hope to die. Your last thoughts are that you would surely die.
              

First Person POV

My (last) Summer Adventure.

             I kept telling myself it was okay. I had expected it anyway. It didn't matter that I wasn't chosen at all, I wouldn't be living much longer anyway. Winter was coming! Another winter. Could I survive another winter? The last one had nearly killed me, and I was even weaker now. This coming winter would surely be my last. I could feel the chill in my bones even though it was still summer. My last summer. So I decided to make full use of it. I said my farewells. Mum and dad were sad, but they let me go anyway. I forced myself to gather my stuff which I packed into my backpack. I didn't bring many things, just a few sets of clothes, a loaf of bread, some biscuits, dried meats, and a few apples. Just clothes and food that wouldn't go bad. And I brought Goldie for company. Goldie was my pet hen. I got her last year when she was just a chick. Her feathers were gold, that's why I called her Goldie. So, with everything packed, I set out eagerly for the adventure of my lifetime!
           As I took those first steps, my mind was already going crazy with all sorts of thoughts. I wondered who I would meet. A knight? That would be a dream. Thiefs? Hopefully not. Actually, maybe that would have been fun, as long as they weren't the bad type. Good thiefs. Yes, I would have liked to meet them. Perhaps if I was lucky I would meet a Wizard who would apprentice me and teach me magic! Or perhaps I would meet a healer that would heal me of my disease! Yes, that would be the best. Or perhaps I would meet a lion, who would eat me. Or perhaps I would just stumble into a drain and die. So many thoughts going on in my head as I headed out of the village.
           It didn't take long before my feet started to ache. Already my frail body was trying to protest my adventure. My shoulders felt tired. The backpack was so heavy. Seeing a nice green spot of grass by the roadside, I decided to take a break. I flung off my backpack and sat down on my backside. I took the bread from my backpack and broke it in half. I gave Goldie a chunk and she gladly pecked it from my hand. The rest I ate. Apparently, that huge chunk wasn't enough for her. She began cooing, begging me for more; but enough was enough. I shooed her off. She squawked and instead began pecking at the grass.
          I had barely rested when I heard a rumbling sound. I turned and saw a wagon rambling down the road. It had come from the village. I saw that driving the wagon was Master Aeries, the village blacksmith. When he saw me, he stopped the wagon. That made me smile. I greeted the old man.
             "What are you doing there boy?" asked Master Aeries.
             "Just resting, sir," I said.
             "You'd best be heading back," Master Aeries said. "It isn't safe out here. There are brigands abound. Outside the village, it isn't safe. You should know that."
              I did know that. My father had told me also, but it didn't stop me. So obviously, I didn't listen to Master Aeries.
             "I'm adventuring," I said instead. "Where are you heading, sir?"
             "There's a caravan carnival in Tinstletown. I'll be selling some wares." Master Aeries said.
             "Do you think I could hitch a ride with you, sir?" I asked meekly. It would certainly speed up my adventure. And I added a little white lie. "I was heading there myself."
             Master Aeries eyed me warily.
             "Pah! You should run back home now," he said. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
              Without another word, he cracked the whip and the wagon begun rolling down the road.
              As I watched the wagon role, I decided that I wouldn't let opportunity slip away so easily. I quickly got off my backside, slung on my backpack, caught Goldie and dashed after the wagon. And somehow I managed to climb onto the back of the wagon. Not bad for a dying boy. So I sat there, with my legs hanging off the ledge, with Goldie in my arms. She was squawking again, so I petted her, hoping that Master Aeries would not hear us.
             Sitting at the back of the wagon was rather uncomfortable. My legs begun to numb from hanging off the back, so I lifted them onto the wagon. I was rewarded with painful pins and needles stabbing into my legs. Ouch. After the sensation passed, I took out an apple from my backpack and nibbled on it. It was hard, and bitting into it hurt my gums. I wished I had a knife to cut the apple. I should have brought a knife. For safety reasons too. I bit off the apple skin and tossed it to Goldie but she refused to even look at it. She was still flustered. Just then, the wagon rolled over a stone again and I was jolted on my backside. Goldie began to squawk again. I put the apple into my mouth, and with my free hands, began coddling her again. At least that calmed her down a little.
             The journey was rather boring and not turning out like I had imagined. At the very least, I should met some brigands by now. I think several hours had passed, though how many for sure, I couldn't tell. Around me, was endless green scenery. Conifers everywhere. Boring. No sign of brigands anywhere. When I needed to pee, I simply stood up and did my business, though I had to be careful, and I hung on tightly to the wagon with my free hand. I watched as my urine hissed into steam as it hit the dusty yellow road below. After about the twentieth time squawking like a mad cow, Goldie finally got used to the jolts. Instead, she began pacing up and down, though she still squawked every once in awhile. I guess she was as bored as I was.
              Finally, when the sun was already on it's way down, we reached Tinstletown.  It was awkward watching the scene from reverse. I saw the massive gatehouse first, then the twenty foot walls, then the handsome guards upon the walls. The guards were almost like knights! They were clad in black leather armor, and they all had longswords hanging from their belts! There were about ten of them, and each was carrying a crossbow. Ready to fire! Perhaps there were brigands after all. The wagon rolled on, and soon I lost sight of them. Instead, I started seeing houses and other buildings. They were all made of stone or brick, unlike the wooden houses in the village. And they were all painted. Most were white or cream, although I did see some blue and green houses too.             
           Finally, the adventure begun, I thought. There were so many people in Tinstletown. There were people everywhere, and they didn't even notice me when I stared. This was my kind of place. I felt I could fit in here, blend in with the crowd. Here, no one would recognise me as "The sickly boy", as they called me in the village. As the wagon rolled on, I started hearing music, shouting, laughter, grunting, and all sorts of noise. I couldn't tell what was making it, but I came to one conclusion. The carnival. We had reached! True enough, I begun seeing some caravans and just like that, the wagon stopped. It was so sudden I was almost jolted off. I quickly put on my backpack, picked Goldie up and jumped off the wagon. I didn't want Master Aeries to find out what I had done, so I quickly ran into the crowd.
            With Goldie in my arms, I begun to explore the caravan carnival. I saw all sorts of odd things, most things I couldn't even tell what they were. But I recognised some things; jewelry, trinkets, tools, books, clothes, food. Each caravan had a table out with their wares displayed. Every caravan was different. Even though they sold trinkets, but the trinkets were all different. I looked but didn't touch. I didn't have any money to buy, anyway. The sellers were mostly adults, although I did see a few boys my age helping with the sale. All in all, I counted about 30 caravans. Careful to avoid Master Aeries, I continued my adventure.
            I stopped to listen to a trio of singers sing a song. The music was odd, beautiful but strangely haunting. Their voices, one low, one medium and one high, provided the melody and harmony. They didn't use any instruments. It was unlike anything I had heard. I stood there, like a moth drawn to a lamp, listening to them. I noticed after each song, some of the audience would toss a coin into a collecting dish. The collecting dish was nearly full. It was a rather good business after all. Since it was getting late, I forced myself away and continued my adventure.
           The tantalising smell of roasting meat lured me like a bull led by his nose ring. It was getting late and I was getting hungry. If only I had a coin. I watched the skewered meat roasting above the charcoal grill. The fat dripping from the meat, sizzling on the embers. Every once in awhile, the cook would fan, and the charcoal would glow back to life. I forced myself away, it was too tempting to resist. What an adventure, indeed. By then it was getting dark. I suddenly shivered. A creepy feeling overcame me. Something sinister was near. Perhaps it was the clowns, or the freak show at the next caravan. Even Goldie eyed them suspiciously. I felt cold and I didn't like it one bit. So I decided to leave the caravan carnival. I found my way to the townsquare. By then the sun had set, so the only light came from the street lamps. It was dark but at least there was light. I quickly had my dinner; bread and some dried meat. I fed Goldie some bread and soon she was asleep in my arms. I tried to find a place where I could rest, somewhere not to open. Somewhere safe. I manged to find a hole and I crawled into it. I felt so cold and lonely, and hoped to die. My last thoughts were that I would surely not make the next morning.

Third Person POV

Thim's last days.

                 It didn't matter much to him that he hadn't been chosen. He had already expected it. Thim had always been a sickly little boy. No one wanted a sickly young apprentice. It didn't matter that Thim was smart, hardworking, polite and sweet. In fact, the list of his positive attributes went on and on, but still, it was too risky for any Master to choose Thim. After all, Winter was coming and the chances of Thim surviving another Winter was very low. So, after kissing his parents goodbye and with nothing but his backpack of supplies, and his hen Goldie, Thim set out on his adventure.
                 His first steps were eager. It was the culmination of  a boyhood dream. Who knew who he would meet, what he would discover, when he would die. The adventure of a lifetime. After about a mile on the road, just after he had left the village, his feet started to ache. The bagpack started feeling heavy. So he took a short break. He found a nice green spot of grass by the road-side and sat down cross legged on it. He took his loaf of bread and broke a small piece for himself. He threw a few crumbs to little Goldie, who eagerly pecked it up. She begged for more, but he shooed her off. She squawked and instead began pecking at the grass where he lay.
               It wasn't very long before a wagon came rambling down the road from the village. It was Master Aeries, the blacksmith. The wagon came to a halt.
              "What are you doing there boy?" asked Master Aeries.
              "Just resting, sir," answered Thim.
              "You'd best be heading back," Master Aeries said. "It isn't safe out here. There are brigands abound. Outside the village, it isn't safe. You should know that."
              "I'm adventuring," replied Thim. "Where are you heading, sir?"
              "There's a caravan in Tinstletown. I'll be selling some wares." Master Aeries said.
              "Do you think I could hitch a ride with you, sir?" Thim asked meekly. "I was heading there myself."
              "Pah! You should run back home now." Master Aeries said. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
              Without another word, Master Aeries cracked the whip and the wagon begun rolling down the road.
             But Thim wasn't so easily defeated. A wagon ride would be so much faster. Tinstletown wasn't a bad destination either. Better than having no destination. So Thim gathered Goldie, and ran after the wagon. He managed to climb onto the back of the wagon and seated himself there, his legs hanging, his arms coddling his panicking chicken.
            After what felt like several hours, Thim started feeling bored and restless. The wagon rumbled on and on. It wasn't even comfortable as he had expected. Everytime the wagon rolled over a stone, he was jolted. Goldie would squawk. The scenery was nothing special. An endless green. A forest of conifers, split by the yellow dirt road. No sign of brigands anywhere. He took out a small red apple from his backpack and nibbled on it. It was hard, and it hurt his gums biting into the apple. He wished he had brought a knife. The wagon rambled on. When he had to pee, he simply stood up and balanced himself. Then he peed, his urine dripping like rain onto the dusty road below. The wagon rambled on. He was getting extremely restless. Likewise, Goldie was pacing the narrow ledge where he sat. He prayed she wouldn't fly off.
          The sun was already on the way down when the wagon finally reached Tinstletown. Thim watched from behind as the wagon rolled through the walled gates. There were several soldiers pacing on the walls. So perhaps there were brigands after all. His adventure was shaping up nicely. Thim had never been to Tinstletown before, nor had he seen a real soldier before. He looked at them in awe. They wore tightly fit black leather, with longswords hanging from their belt, crossbows in hand. Ready to fire.
          There were so many people in Tinstletown. Everywhere he looked there were people, and they didn't even stare back or notice him. This was his kind of place. Somewhere he could fit in, and not be the sickly boy that everyone knew.
          He started hearing music and shouting, laughing and all sorts of noise. Must be the carnival, Thim thought. True enough, a short while later, the wagon came to a halt. Not wanting to be discovered, Thim quickly gathered Goldie and jumped off the wagon, quickly disappearing into the crowd in case Master Aeries should somehow see him.
         At first, he just walked around, looking, looking at everything. Everything was new to him. The carnival was set in a large field. There were about thirty tents. Most tents had tables set out with wares set upon the table. There were all sorts of things for sale. Jewelry, trinkets, tools, books, clothes, food. All sorts of things. He looked but didn't touch. He stopped to watch a trio of singers perform some folk song. After each song, the audience would applaude and some would toss a coin into a collecting dish. Further along, there were also clowns, acrobats and even a freak-show.
         The tantalising smell of roasting meat soon lured him. He watched hungrily as the cook fanned sticks of skewered meat roasting above a charcoal grill. The delicious aromas filled his lungs but alas, he had no coin. He forced himself away. What an adventure, indeed.
         Soon it was evening. He had his dinner, bread and some dried meat. It was hard and tasteless, nothing like the delicious skewered meat he had seen barbecuing. Then it was getting darker. He couldn't tell why, but the carnival area started giving him a cold- almost sinister feeling. He quickly left it and found his way to what seemed like the town square. By then it was almost dark. So he found a hole, crawled into it and hoped to die.