The Goodland Kronicles, Book One: The Hills(ON HOLD)

Chapter One

Chapter One: 12 Years Following

    Vita scrambled back up the hill. She giggled as her black puppy, Ramses, tripped over his white-tipped tail. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and opened her arms to the sky. She loved this hill.

    “I’m the Warrior of the Kingdom, “ she shouted giddily. She turned around, picked up Ramses, and touched noses with him, “And you are my faithful squire, Ramses of Millow!” She could smell warm chocolate wafting from the castle and a mischievous smile crept onto her lips. “Now let’s go save my guardian from unknowingly being tricked into eating, tasteless, poisonous cookies prepared by a traitorous cook!”

            She and the fat little puppy scampered forth to her home, Heartside Manor. The delicious scent of fresh cookies filled up the place as they entered through a large wooden door. Vita began to sneak towards the kitchen when she heard a scream and realized the cookies had already been put in Lord Michael’s study.

    “VICTORIA DAWN GOODLAND! WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT TRACKING MUD IN MY HALLWAYS?!?!?!” Carlotta’s high-pitched screech hurt her ears, and Vita clamped her hands over them.

    “Oops, “ Vita whispered. She slipped behind a carved white marble pillar as the Irish maid stomped past, muttering something about telling Lord Michael to give the child a fierce disciplinary day of wiping the place spotless. Vita sighed with relief when Carlotta strode into the servant’s supply room. She walked across the room(carefully stepping over the rare purple and gold silk Persian rug) and into her guardian’s study.

    “Stay, “ she commanded Ramses, pointing at the floor. The ebony puppy sat and adorably cocked his head to the side. She loved sitting in Lord Michael’s study. It was quiet and warm, lit by torches, and heated by the large fireplace. The ceiling was made of wooden tiles and a chandelier in the shape of a swan. Lord Michael’s desk was made of mahogany and was very neat and tidy. The mantle above the fireplace was decorated with silver bells and roses. A rather large picture of a lovely looking woman hung above the desk on the wall behind it. She was a little pale, with very dark hair and brown eyes that matched the color of the desk. She was smiling, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. When, on several occasions throughout her childhood, she had asked her guardian who the woman was, he would get sort of misty-eyed and respond, “She was a very, very dear friend, Vita. You would have been lucky to have known her. In fact, you were named after her, even Victoria wasn’t her first name.”

    The chocolate chip cookies sat on a silver plate on the desk. Just as she reaching for one, she heard the clearing of a throat and tapping of a foot. Her face heated up as blood rushed into her cheeks. She slowly turned around to see Lord Michael standing in front of her, his arms crossed and a frown on his face. She lowered her head shamefully.

    “Victoria, you are thirteen, almost fourteen. Why must you continue to antagonize the maids?” he scolded, “They have enough on their plates without you and your fat little dog dragging mud slop into the Manor.” Vita averted her eyes to the floor to keep herself from seeing his disappointment. “Do you wish to shame the memory of your mother? Your birthday is fast approaching and then you will be old enough to undergo even more serious training to be a Hunter, the first step if you ever want to be the Warrior. But right now, it seems as though you really don’t care about it, “ Vita gasped at his last sentance, and so did Lord Michael, who looked like he dearly wished he could take it back. But it was too late, and Vita had dived into the Tunnel through the secret door behind the desk.

    He called after her, but she ignored him. Becoming the Warrior was all she had ever dreamed about. The tunnel was dark, but it didn’t matter to her, because she had been through it so many times it was burned into her memory. She sat down and stared at nothing. He knows nothing, she thought, her fists balling and tears cascading down her cheeks, NOTHING about what I care about.