He enjoyed reading and writing. He liked words. Words didn’t shout or make loud noises, which pretty much defined the rest of his family. Thet didn’t involve getting muddy in the freezing cold. They didn’t hunt inoffensive animals, either. They did what he told them to. So, he’d said, he wanted to write.
His father had erupted. In his personal world a scribe was only one step higher than a teacher. Good gods, man, they didn’t even ride a horse! So there had been Words.
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