I heard about them once.
It was about harvest time and Yenman was telling her harvest stories. After a certain age, you stop being fascinated by those stories, and you begin to look forward to different things but granted i hadn't reached that age, i listened.
Last year's story was about Gic, the protector of harvests.Yenman told about how he defended the harvest of peasants from thieves and robbers. It was rumored that this year's story would be a sequel to Gic but for the first time , the rumor as wrong.
That year, Yenman told a story about brothers, Isack, Ghor, Anatol and Patrich, Sons of the Wind. The Sons of the Wind were a group of stealing brothers, who stole most during harvest time. I automatically came to the conclusion that any of Yenman's tales are fictional. If you saw Yenman, you would understand why.
Nothing about this story really stood out.I would be a liar if is aid it was one of the more memorable Yenman's tales. Then the night before harvest celebration , fiction became reality. The Sons of the Wind struck our humble village. And you can guess whose house they struck, yes, mine. The previous working year had been a terrible one. Father died, mother joined a dancing troupe and Yenman's memory got worse.
Somehow my cousins and i pushed through the rough season, missing school for a whole year, through all the mockery, the strife, we kept keeping on, we had to. Our harvest was humble, unlike that of the Sdrows or the Trinhcs. I always wondered why thieves like the ones in Yenman's stories always struck simple households, not wealthy ones like that of the Sdrows.
It wasn't like you could mistake our raggedy hut for a wealthy mansion. Why don't they steal from people like the Sdrows, who make it their part time occupation to rub their riche in the faces of other people.
The thieves had robbed us during the night and my cousin, Der had seen the loss early the next morning. It was not a huge loss because wise and old Yenman had advised us to hide a little portion of our harvest under our mats. It could have ben worse. But i was still deeply and madly enraged that anyone would try to steal form us.
It was heartless for these legendary thieves to steal from humbly living people. My cousins Der and Ance were calming me down.
It was about harvest time and Yenman was telling her harvest stories. After a certain age, you stop being fascinated by those stories, and you begin to look forward to different things but granted i hadn't reached that age, i listened.
Last year's story was about Gic, the protector of harvests.Yenman told about how he defended the harvest of peasants from thieves and robbers. It was rumored that this year's story would be a sequel to Gic but for the first time , the rumor as wrong.
That year, Yenman told a story about brothers, Isack, Ghor, Anatol and Patrich, Sons of the Wind. The Sons of the Wind were a group of stealing brothers, who stole most during harvest time. I automatically came to the conclusion that any of Yenman's tales are fictional. If you saw Yenman, you would understand why.
Nothing about this story really stood out.I would be a liar if is aid it was one of the more memorable Yenman's tales. Then the night before harvest celebration , fiction became reality. The Sons of the Wind struck our humble village. And you can guess whose house they struck, yes, mine. The previous working year had been a terrible one. Father died, mother joined a dancing troupe and Yenman's memory got worse.
Somehow my cousins and i pushed through the rough season, missing school for a whole year, through all the mockery, the strife, we kept keeping on, we had to. Our harvest was humble, unlike that of the Sdrows or the Trinhcs. I always wondered why thieves like the ones in Yenman's stories always struck simple households, not wealthy ones like that of the Sdrows.
It wasn't like you could mistake our raggedy hut for a wealthy mansion. Why don't they steal from people like the Sdrows, who make it their part time occupation to rub their riche in the faces of other people.
The thieves had robbed us during the night and my cousin, Der had seen the loss early the next morning. It was not a huge loss because wise and old Yenman had advised us to hide a little portion of our harvest under our mats. It could have ben worse. But i was still deeply and madly enraged that anyone would try to steal form us.
It was heartless for these legendary thieves to steal from humbly living people. My cousins Der and Ance were calming me down.
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