The Last of Arrows

A Nomad

      Sparks flew in the air as the rock clashed with the tip of my spear. I paused for a moment, wiping the sweat that was beating down my forehead. I stared down at my spear, it wasn't sharp enough to pierce but it was long and scary looking. As I was about to start sharpening again, I felt something hit the back of my head. The sharp pain was instant and go as quickly as it had come.

            My head swiveled around and I caught a sight of a figure blur as the person ran away from me. I grinned, hopping to my feet and running after the person. The tall grass danced around my calves as I sprinted into the open meadow. The bright orange sun was beginning to sink into the horizon, the colors washing over in my haste.

    Pink and reddish clouds expanded in the sky, making it seem like a beautiful painting. Of course, I had never seen a painting before. But every time I imagined how paintings looked like, this came to mind. The setting of the sun. Only a few people who could afford such things were able to see them. Or even sell them for that matter. Objects like those, were only seen in heavily populated cities that were important.

But only Elites and their servants lived in those cities all throughout the Great Terrains. The low-born commoners or "peasants" as some people called them, were Plebs, short for Plebeians. They were the running heart and blood of the Elites, doing all the hard and dirty work for them. They were the true people of the Great Terrains.

The Elites on the other hand, were the highest ranking lineage that came after all the government officials and their families. And most of those important of those people lived in the grand city of Polis, the government's treasured place. It had been known long time ago for one of the most biggest cities, but now it was occupied by governing families. A gated and secure living area for those who were important enough to afford it.

                My mom and dad decided to move away from Polis as soon as they were married. My dad was born into the Pleb lineage in Polis as a poor merchant's son. As for Mom, she was born a Nomad but moved into Polis in secret with my dad when she met him through a trading route.

They eventually ran away together when someone found out that a Nomad was living among commoners. I still couldn't understand why it was mandatory for everyone to live strictly within their lineage boundaries. But they had made it work, which was what mattered in the end.

    I didn't mind being a Nomad. You get to roam freely and do whatever you please. Yes, we were constantly driven out from certain lands because of government construction, or wars, but we avoided it as much as we could. My eyes sharpened as I focused back to reality. The person in front of me was slightly slowing down. I had a sudden burst of speed and lunged.

    The person cried out as he met the ground. I laughed as I shoved his face against the dirt. The boy fought against me, kicking and squirming. Given the fact that I was on top of him, I was dominating the fight. "Alright! Alright! You win!" The voice yelled out in defeat, his legs flopping against the ground. I brought my hands away from his head. The boy turned to face me, giving me a glare.

         I flashed a grin down at him, reaching over to brush the dirt off of his short black hair. He swatted my hand away in annoyance. "Get off, Zaila." He muttered, struggling to sit up under the weight of my body. I lifted a brow. "Why'd you throw that rock, Hussain?"

My twin brother rolled his eyes, a small smile fighting its way onto his lips. "I was just testing how fast you are." He teased, letting his head sink back down on the ground. I rolled off of him, flopping down on my back beside him. The grass around us made my skin prickle. No doubt dirty as well. My waist length hair would definitely be tangled by the time we went back home for supper. But it didn't matter. Tomorrow would be shower day.