*bows* Thanks for reading. It's been fun.
^_^ Keek out!
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Yazra threw her weight backwards, the sound of her falling flat on her back masked by the hair-raising squeal the boar let loose.
Yazra lay there a moment, hands still closed around the spear, considering playing dead for a little while to avoid it’s wrath—or she could stop the boar from battering his attacker to death.
Yazra jumped to her feet and grabbed the man’s heels, pulling him out of the injured animal’s reach. The boar screamed an objection, but every step it took towards the man was slow and painful.
Once I got over that though, my father began teaching me about survival. Over the three years I spent as his shadow, I learned about deceit, danger, death, destruction and that the very nature of man is to, in some way or another, crush other men. My father did not soften his teaching with metaphors; when he wanted to show me how to kill a man he found a body, handed me a weapon, and showed me where to stab.
Those types of lessons were limited in number, but by the time the shock wore off I was well used to the fact that death was a violent creature
I learned about men and women from songs sung in taverns, and I learned about what being a villain really meant by allowing myself to lick the rabbits I should have been eating.
By the time my father was done teaching me, any belief I may have had that what my parents did for a living was right, was gone. They were villains, and I didn’t have the heart to grow up and be like them, no matter how much I loved them.
Three months before my eighteenth birthday, my mother and our shack were burned to the ground by a small army sent by a nearby lord my mother had hexed. My father cremated the remains of her body and buried them in the woods, under the concerned watch of myself and the flock of crows my mother had used for messengers.
Maybe he should have mourned—maybe I should have too. My mother had been a witch, and she’d taught me about the birds and the bees; I knew death came for everyone. Besides, there was something so cliché about her death that I knew she went down cackling.
Though not sad, my father was definitely not going to live without my mother. He went on a rampage very soon after, leaving me in the care of a baker and his wife. It was a devastating thing to hear about: town after town, and finally even a stronghold, were crushed under his heel. He somehow amassed under him in a few short months over a hundred men and rode across the country, gaining infamy as he went. It was only five months before the king himself lead an army to stop him. They say he was the last man fighting and that it took twenty men at once to stop him.
I know it was the way he wanted to go.
Yazra closed the diary and finished her mug of cider, mulling over the past in her mind. It seemed amazing, how her parent’s deaths weren’t sad in any way to her. To them, it had been just another part of living. They both would have told her how pleased they were to have such dramatic ends.
Their deaths taught me the last valuable lesson I would ever need to know: fear always turns to hate, and that is when a villain’s days become numbered.
The boar stood, [?] leaning heavily against a thick pine, its body heaving from the effort of breathing.
It would have been an execution, [no comma?] had Yazra not snuck up behind the man holding the spear and knocked him senseless with a heavy piece of wood.
and probably weighed [s]about [/s]as much as one.
A voice that sounded very much like her father’s urged her quickly to use the unconscious man as a shield while she finished off the boar.
Another, much like her mother's, told her to trust the forest.
The boar’s eyes were dark, dangerous, angry, [s]and[/s] yet also intelligent.
hooves, she now noticed, that looked sharp, if that was even possible.
You can eat him later when he’s awake to appreciate it.”
However, the boar seemed to understand it wasn’t going to get its [s]hoofs[/s] hooves on the man, and heavily dropped onto the forest floor.
“Why were you trying to kill this boar?” [s]She[/s] she asked quietly, getting up and gathering branches and twigs as she spoke.
“I-I wanted to be famous!” [s]He[/s] he wailed, obviously terrified out of his mind.
Once I got over that, though, my father began teaching me about survival.
Over the three years I spent as his shadow, I learned about deceit, danger, death, destruction, and that the very nature of man is to, in some way or another, crush other men.
when he wanted to show me how to kill a man, he found a body, handed me a weapon, and showed me where to stab.
Feedback questions
1) Does the boar seem like a boar? Do boars even growl? Does it seem intimidating/dangerous?
2) Again, where do you think the story could use more description? What did you think of what description is already there?
3) Has your opinion/understanding of Yazra's personality changed? How?
4) What do you think of her journal thus far (including part 1)? Any suggestions on how it could be improved?
5) How do you feel about the plot's movement?
6) Do you think the story would benefit by spending more time on Yazra's interaction with the boar?
Comparative Feedback Questions (for older readers)
1) Bear is now a boar. Opinions? Does he still feel like a bear?
2) Having separate threads for each part is working for me (and I have lots of points I may as well use =P). Hows about you?
Sorry there's so many questions. =P Thanks for reading!
A voice that sounded very much like her father’s urged she quickly to use the unconscious man as a shield while she finished off the boar. Another, much like her mothers, told her to trust the forest. The boar’s eyes were dark, dangerous, angry and yet also intelligent.
It emitted a low grumbling sound and turned its head away, beginning to lick at its wound.
Yazra closed the diary and finished her mug of cider, mulling over the past in her mind.
Feedback questions
1) Does the boar seem like a boar? Do boars even growl? Does it seem intimidating/dangerous?
2) Again, where do you think the story could use more description? What did you think of what description is already there?
3) Has your opinion/understanding of Yazra's personality changed? How?
4) What do you think of her journal thus far (including part 1)? Any suggestions on how it could be improved?
5) How do you feel about the plot's movement?
6) Do you think the story would benefit by spending more time on Yazra's interaction with the boar?
Comparative Feedback Questions (for older readers)
1) Bear is now a boar. Opinions? Does he still feel like a bear?
2) Having separate threads for each part is working for me (and I have lots of points I may as well use =P). Hows about you?
Feedback questions
1) Does the boar seem like a boar? Do boars even growl? Does it seem intimidating/dangerous?
2) Again, where do you think the story could use more description? What did you think of what description is already there?
3) Has your opinion/understanding of Yazra's personality changed? How?
4) What do you think of her journal thus far (including part 1)? Any suggestions on how it could be improved?
5) How do you feel about the plot's movement?
6) Do you think the story would benefit by spending more time on Yazra's interaction with the boar?
Comparative Feedback Questions (for older readers)
1) Bear is now a boar. Opinions? Does he still feel like a bear?
2) Having separate threads for each part is working for me (and I have lots of points I may as well use =P). Hows about you?
A voice that sounded very much like her father’s urged he quickly to use the unconscious man as a shield while she finished off the boar. Another, much like her mothers, told her to trust the forest. The boar’s eyes were dark, dangerous, angry and yet also intelligent.
Whether it was to appease her father, the boar, or to remove the temptation of listening to her father, Yazra kicked away the unconscious man who lay at her feet.
“Hold still,” she ordered the boar, using her mother’s commanding tone. She kept her eyes locked with the beast’s as she slowly reached for the spear. The boar growled menacingly. Yazra sighed.
“This is pretty bad, you know. The spear will slowly tear you apart, and you’ll die a slow and painful death. If you let me pull it out now, maybe I can help you.”
Yazra didn’t expect the boar to understand her words, but she trusted that it would hear her voice and understand she wanted to help. For a long moment the boar continued to growl, but the sound receded and finally stopped.
Yazra gently took hold of the end of the spear, shifting her body so the spear would come out the same way it had gone in and do the least damage. It was only a hand's width into the boar’s side, and judging from the amount of blood that stained its fur, the spear hadn’t been in very long.
“One…. two…. three…”
Yazra frowned and looked up, seeing the boar had its maw open so the man could get a good look at its tusks.
Hope this critique helped.
You're my favorite person ever for giving questions, though. It makes my overall summary so much easier. ^_^
Nice work. You get some great critiques. *am a little jealous*
Wow Keek, you get reviews fast! *jealous*
My father cremated the remains, under the concerned eye of myself and the flock of ravens...
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