This is my freewrite, by
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Klave walked over the hill, a dirt path shaped by wagon wheels directing him to the town. There it was, the village in which he had grown up. It had been so, so many years ago. Would they even remember him? The thatched roves and wicket-fenced pins. The smell was somewhat atrocious, but set a surge of happiness and memory through Klave. He smiled.
It was summer, and it appeared the master of the town was taxing the people. It was run down beyond normal, Klave saw as he approached, though it had been a while since had set foot here last. An older man stopped him in his tracks. "What are you here for, pray tell? Are you a vagabond?" Something about this man seemed familiar, and Klave peered into the man's eyes.
"S-Sandalwood? Is that you?" The man's gaze flickered, and suddenly he exclaimed, "Not Klave, the one who always stole my pies of the bakery sill! What happened?" Sandalwood seemed genuinely happy to see him, though he looked as if he was hiding something. He clasped Klave on the shoulder, waiting for an answer.
"I've got a long story, and have earned many titles. To sum it up, I was captured by thieves and have found my way back. But, what happened here?" Sandalwood grew grim, and spoke lowly. "The old master died. A rich lord came from a distant land and has been taking our money, leaving us so very poor. I've lost everything, because of him."
Klave grinned. "I guess I'll just have to take care of that, aren't I?"
Thanks for reading!
