This Friday flash is inspired by this image from Wiki Commons:
A soft, warm wind stirred his hair and he looked around, grateful anew for his luck. Lush green growth provided fresh food all year around. He would not leave it.
His brother cleared his throat and he turned toward the canal. His brother, poor sod, wore a fine woolen tunic. The boy was too proud to wear more appropriate clothing.
“The first summer caravan leaves in the morning. You’ll go with it.”
“Father said -”
“I don’t care what Father says. If you want to live, you won’t either.”
The boy shook his long, blond hair. Northern men didn’t cut their hair. Another tradition he’d broken.
“I won’t leave without you.” Stubborn conviction rang in his voice, as hard the mountains buried under mounds of snow ever year.
“Father is murdering, conniving coward. He killed our mother. I won’t ever serve him, brother.”
“Not him. The village, the reason our mother sacrificed herself. The omens -”
No belief in the boy’s eyes. He only stared like a wolf with his prey in sight.
Shivering at the image, he turned and walked to the house. “You leave tomorrow. Without me.”