I always took what was given to me. I didn't revolt when I discovered with no uncertainty that my parents hated me. I didn't revolt when I heard our neighbors' petty comments at my plight nor when I saw their sneers. I didn't revolt when I was regarded as free labor by everyone in my village and still got the worst of everything.
But this? This was the anvil that broke the donkey's back. They were selling me, it was labeled as a an arranged marriage, but everyone could see what it really was.
There is a son of a rich farmer who habitually assaults and even kills young girls, but his status coupled with his lower status victims made it easy for him to get away with it.
His parents wanted to improve his image and wanted to find him a wife. Of course no decent family would marry their daughter to him. My parents aren't decent.
So I decided to leave. To go somewhere would bother to look, because if I went there I was as good as dead.
People: merchants, hunters, and some daring kids had disappeared after entering the forest.
The Lord of our land, in an effort to tame the wilderness that made up so much of his land offered ownership of the land in the forest.
You could stake a claim on an area of the forest (with literal stakes) and as long as you should progress in turning the land into a livable place you would own it.
And that's what I was banking on. There was a chance I would die, a pretty large one. I don't care. Maybe a part of me hopes that is what will happen.
That my scorned existence will draw to a close.
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