I wanted to share a little bit from the book just so you can get the feel for it. This is very rough, but I wanted to share something from what I'm working on. This is the beginning of the prologue. Hope you enjoy!
It was the first day of summer, the day of the third harvest. It was the only day of the year when the King himself would come down into the valley. Those who lived in the valley were up extra early, if they were able to get any sleep at all, and they waited anxiously for the King’s arrival. Most years the villagers would line up by families standing in front of their cabins or shacks. Boys tried to stand straight and girls clung to their mothers sometimes unable to stifle their tears.
The King would then ride into town on his tall white stallion followed by a small contingent of his soldiers. There was a time when he would address the people, telling them of the great quality of life among the soldiers of his army. He would tell them of wealth and visiting far off places, and a life of adventure and honor. Now he simply dismounted and walked down the lines of people snatching any child without question.
Many of the families starved their children for weeks to make them look as scrawny as possible in hopes that the King would not take them, but that did little good as all other villagers did the same thing. Although he said each family would only need to give one child, those words were also proven to be empty promises from a tyrannical liar.
In answer to his decades of abuse, this year the workers in the valley gathered and lined up to meet him, but it was not how he expected.
Kendra flexed her hands tight and then loosened her grip again. She could feel the smooth curved edge of the wooden staff. She looked down at the weapon in her hands and distracted herself thinking of what it used to be. The wood was dark had been polished to an almost glossy finish by years of use. It had probably been a broom handle, or a shovel. A tool used by a one of the valley dwellers on the verge of starvation, and now it was given to her as a weapon to fight for their freedom. She wondered for the thousandth time if the small piece of lumber carried by an inexperienced farm girl would make any difference. Dismissing this thought she gritted her teeth, squared her shoulders, and stood up as tall as her petite frame would allow. It would make a difference—it had to.