A Narrative Essay On A Hero's Journey

“Hey, Nathan,” a voice called out, “Why don’t you put those books down and come have fun for once.” It was Silas Wilcox, one of my oldest friends, who had called to me from the village fountain. His black fur was matted and soaked as he stared back at me with water dripping down his face. He was a Panther Novan, not too rare, but still not too common and he was also the person who had saved my life years ago. I chuckled as I lay the crinkled old chronicle I held to the grass beneath the large oak tree beneath which I sat. I grinned back, revealing my fangs to him as I brushed a clawed hand over my spotted grey fur, a common trait for wolf Novans and began walking towards him. “Come on,” I told him. “When have I not had fun? What do you think of as fun?” He chuckled and we walked through the busy streets of the village and arrived at

The two of us chuckled and when Mr. Falk called us to the front, he told us that for the next few days, we would be cleaning up the area by picking up the tattered bits of food and such. Silas and I both groaned as he scolded us by saying the old ‘this will teach you the rules’ speech. Without another word, he dismissed the class and we all left the warm tent into the calm breezy village park.
“So, Silas,” Tyler asked patting him on the back. “What was it this time? Another piece of tattered human parchment or something like that, you always go crazy for the little trinkets.”
I could clearly tell that Silas had been upset by what Tyler said so I motioned for him to stop. For as long as I could remember, ever since Silas had first heard about the ancient human race from my grandmother, he had been hooked and wished to find all kinds of old relics and such from the lost specie. He’d been at it for over fifteen years and they had always caused him to get into trouble for wishing to leave the village in search of more and more