PROLOGUE

– CHAPTER TWELVE–

– CHAPTER TWELVE–

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Baaa!

The sound woke Luke. He wasn’t used to hearing animals, since where he’d lived rarely attracted them. They much rather preferred the crisp, green grass of the plains than the brown grass of the savanna.

Patting the sheep on the head, he smiled. He was glad to have some new company.

He and Mist had slept outside, taking turns watching for threats. Luckily, no more monsters had engaged them during the night.

He was still very tired, but he knew they needed to craft a boat to continue. The quicker the boat was finished, the sooner they could travel the seas; therefore getting closer to the village. Home, Or at least he hoped it would be.

Staring at the oak tree, he pictured a few ideas of what his boat would look like.

He first imagined a massive pirate ship, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. His next projection was a small, quaint boat with oars. This was more likely.

Sighing, he picked up his sword and examined it. He had to cut the tree down, and the only way he saw to do it was to use his sword in place of an axe. But unfortunately, that would break his sword. Either keep his sword or build a boat. He chose the latter; it was wiser to continue on the journey without a weapon than to not continue with one.

He held the sword ready and drew back. Then reluctantly, he swung the sword with all his might, striking the tree with such power the blade cracked in half. Luckily, however, the moderately thin tree had nearly been cut all the way through the trunk.

I didn’t know I had so much strength!

He soon learned he didn’t. A few seconds later, his arms were so sore that he could barely move them.

Great. Now I can’t build my boat, my sword is broken, and I can’t move my arms to defend myself.

“Mist, you’re going to have to protect me tonight.”

He replied with a bark.

He examined his work. The tree was chopped, but his sword lay in two pieces on the ground. He was sad to have lost his weapon, but he was glad to have lumber to work with. At least when his arms healed.

He sat on the ground, wincing at his aching muscles. He wondered how long this would last. Hours? Days? He hoped not. The sooner he started working on the boat the better.

He sat there, doing nothing, except waiting for his arms to heal, for the next few hours. It was boring. He longed to be up working on the boat, but knew he couldn’t with his condition.

Noon turned into sunset, and sunset turned into night. By now he’d given up hope of recovering any time soon. He reluctantly laid down in the soft grass, closing his eyes. A few moments later, he fell asleep.