From my little black note book!!
 

1....

Ashur frowned and looked up at the sky. He was sitting on his porch, his mum and dad were out, dad in the fields and mum in the shopping square. It was 1782, the middle of October. Ashur sighed and watched his breath cloud out in front of him. He was never aloud to leave the house, he'd never been to school. His parents said that he was different from others around him and they would try and hurt him.
His arctic fox ears twitched, grayish tail swishing behind him. He blew his white bangs out of his eyes and stud up, his long braid falling heavily against his lower back.

Ashur Cummons was sixteen years old and he was part arctic fox. His parents found him in the woods, his original dieing an unknown death. All they knew was they were drained of blood. Ashur had chin- cropped white hair, pail-blue eyes and chubby cheeks. A band was longer than the rest by an inch on the right side of his face. At the nap of his neck was a long, thick braid that rested against his back.

The sun had set awhile ago, but he continued to wait for his parents. After about an hour, a figure started its way up the Cummons long dirt drive. He stood and smiled brightly, expecting to see his father by the tall shadow. But then he notice the family's ox wasn't by his side. Thinking something had happened to the poor old girl, the blond stud from his porch and started to run to him. His parents told him never to leave the safely on his house at night, but never told him why. As soon as his foot hit the ground, a low, evil chuckle filled the chill of the the night air.

Ashur froze, looking around, then back at the man he thought was his father; who had now disappeared. The bleach blond swallowed hard around the lump in his thought. "P-papa?" he called weakly, the thing that he heard was the low laugh, then a man stud in front of him. He was broad with jet-black hair and shimmering dark- green eyes. He was dressed in all black, and when he saw the young teens fear, he smirked. Revealing a long pointed fang.

The fox was to frightened to speak as the man's fist connected with his skull, sending him whirling into darkness.

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Ashur woke up to a small drip of water on his nose, making him sneeze and shake his head drowsily. Chains rattled at the sudden movement and he noticed his wrists, ankles, and neck was chained to another body and that body to the next. He wiped his chilled nose and looked around. He was in a wagon, the back wide open to show the dark dirt road fallowing them. Above his head was a small rectangular window that lead to the driver's compartment. He could hear gravel flick and crunch under the giant wooden wheels and the horse's gallop. He also heard the people around him snore or occasionally cough and sneeze.

There was a small boy sleeping with his head on his shoulder. He let his sleep and looked around again, this time seeing something reflect off of one of the other captures faces. It was a boy around his own age, maybe a little older. He had orange-red hair, his eyes reflecting like a predictor in the dark. He was on the other side of the wagon, and since he was the only one looking at him, he wanted to speak with him. He raised his voice to be heard, but kept it in a whisper.

"What's going on?" Ashur asked. The other merely scoffed and looked away, out to the woods and the road. His heart clinched in loneliness and tried to cover himself with his legs and arms, suddenly feeling self-conscious. He'd never been so many people in his whole life. He thought back to his parents, knowing they would be worried for him and afraid he'd gotten hurt.

The blond bit his lip and looked at the window above him. "Excuse me?" he called,"Whats going-,"

The boy that had been sleeping on his shoulder had silents him with his small, dirty hands. His eyes where wide and begged him to quiet, his head shook side to side. Ashur slowly nodded, seeing the fear in the younger eyes. Relieved, he set his head back down on his shoulder. The blond watched as he slowly went back to sleep, then looked him over. The little boy was wearing ragged cloths, his shirt three times to big and shorts short and only reaching his middle thy. His hair was greasy and, after looking closer, flee and lice infected. He sighed and leaned his head back, hopping he wouldn't ketch any.