Tregacy

Hands coarse with work and eyes drenched in the summer sun rays of the burning star passing over Amon Hen, the large boy, aptly named Bruce, tireless fed his hands to the Earth, pulling twisted weeds from the soil. This painstaking career of tending the fields of an old farmer named Elias has taken it’s toll on his body. His life up to this point has been one of constant work to feed his family, while his father tireless does the same. After just 22 years of age, Bruce felt as if he had saved enough money from the low salary of the ranch owner to finally move out on his own, though the everlasting question of his family’s poverty puzzled Bruce most of his life. Legs and back screaming with ache from the tiring labor, he meandered his way to the house on the small hill where Elias watched the boy from his second story window; descending after noticing his approach. The groaning creek of the stairs echoes into the house as Bruce’s boots stomp upward. Elias swings open the door to the farmhouse, allowing it to slam against the outer wall just as Bruce drops the bag full of currency on the door step. “It’s all there. Everything my family owes you, Elias.” He declares as Elias stares begrudgingly towards the slumped sack that now lays at his feet. “…your family owes a lot more than money, boy...” Elias mumbled under his breath just quiet enough to stay out of earshot of the lumbering young adult. Bruce turns away from the man, and disdainfully trudges his way homebound. Not long down the path he spots the peak of Amon Hen are beginning to glisten in the bright morning once more, allowing a moment of peace before the sudden horrific realization that awaits him down the road. Before too long passes, Bruce eyes flames bursting through the trees, where his home used to sit calmly in the center of a small weeded clearing, was now the epicenter of a large and raging inferno, swallowing his previous homestead. Tears welled up in his eyes as he dashed towards the cabin, the pain and fatigue in his legs blindly numbing for his swift run homeward. Covering his mouth from breathing in the smoke, he quickly took in his surroundings, not finding his families bodies and so he simply grabs as much of his important belongings, before narrowly dodging a collapsing beam. Bruce makes his way out of the house, coughing violently as he eyes the men who seem to be the culprits of this arson. Bruce would recognize them as the men who his family owed quite a lot of money to, due to his father's terrible business practices. Bruce, allowing his fatigue to finally catch up with him, collapses in the dirt, mere meters away from the place he once called home. As he awoke to a cold and dry silence, he gazed towards the path leading towards the nearest city he could find. His mind firmly set in his goals from here on out.