My entry for round 3 : Mongols. We have to write the origin or growth of Mongol Empire. Quotes used are 1, and 2. Bonus character- General Subutai. Word count 2,649

Yesügei and his raiding party came stampeding across the steppes. The sun shone at their backs, making them look like mighty warriors out to conquer the world as it outlined their figures in the distance. Their horses' hooves shook the ground they ran upon and kicked up clogs of dirt behind them. It wasn't long now, Yesügei thought, seeing the herders ahead. Soon they would be in camp, and then he could reunite with his wife.

"Yesügei, you're back!" A herdsman said, coming up to him and clasping him on the shoulder after he had dismounted. "The raid went well?"

"Yes," Yesügei muttered distractedly, searching for his wife who wasn't out to greet him. "I have killed Temujin-üge..." He fell silent as an infant's shrills sounded briefly throughout the encampment, a faint smile began to grace his face. "Hoelun?"

"Go see for yourself."

Yesügei quickly strode for his ger, his boots thudding on the ground. He pulled open the fur covering of the entrance to their rounded tent, and saw Hoelun glance up as he came in.

"He needs a name," she said from her spot on top of piles of soft furs that made their bed while she nursed her newborn son.

"A boy?" he asked as a smile bloomed fully across his face.

"Not just any boy." She brushed her lips across his head, "A born leader. He was holding a blood clot when he came into the world."

"Temujin, then," he said, lowering himself down to sit by the fire that crackled in the middle of their home. The smoke drifted up through the hole in the center. It smelled of home, of family. He bent one leg under him while he rested his head on the other, watching his wife and son in silence while the world outside continued on. "He will be a warrior like his father," he stated proudly.

~

"Remember to do what you are told, Temujin." Yesügei stared into his son's eyes. It was time that he must say goodbye to the boy. He had found a girl who would make a fine match for him, and would strengthen their clan's ties. He didn't want to leave him, but knew he had to. It was the way things were done, even if he did favor the boy. His son had reached nine years and was now time for him to grow into the man he'll become. "Then, in three years time you will be married. Börte will make a good wife," he said while grinning down at his boy.

"Yes, Sir," Temujin spoke up, his head raised slightly to meet his father's eyes while he fought back the tears that threatened to fall. He stood in the middle of the tribe, surrounded by tents and people he didn't know, as he watched his father mount his horse. He would make his father proud; he would not show weakness in front of this tribe, or Börte. "Bye, father," he whispered as he rode off with the setting sun.

"Come, Temujin," Dai Setsen said from behind him. "We will eat."

Temujin nodded his head and followed the older man into his ger. He sat down, smelling the same smells of his home. A sense of peace started to settle over him as a skewer of cooked rabbit meat was held out for him to take. He accepted it, tearing off a bite. As he chewed the meat he caught Börte's shy glances out of the corner of his eyes. He looked away, letting his eyes roam over what was to be his new home for the time being. As his eyes searched across the fire, he met Börte's gaze head on. Seeing her quickly averting her eyes as she blushed, he grinned.

His father was right; she was pretty and would make a good wife. By marrying her, he would be strengthening the ties between the two tribes. Which was what he knew his father wanted. As he stared at her from across the tent, he heard music began playing.

"Have you ever heard a morin khuur, Temujin?" Dai Setsen asked, pride and curiosity in his voice.

"No, Sir, I have not."

"Then you should see this," he said as he stood, holding the flap open for Temujin.

Temujin got up and followed Dai Setsen through the camp. Most had gone to bed, while others were still up with small fires spread out. Their pale faces pink from the cold. And with watchful eyes, they stared at him as he passed by.

"It sounds as if the grass is singing," he said, smiling behind Dai Setsen. It was magical.

"It does." He glanced back at him. "It is said that the very first one was made from the wings of a flying horse." He stopped walking and sat down. "Now watch," he commanded softly, motioning at Temujin to sit.

Temujin sat down beside him, pulling his hands into his long sleeves, thankful for the furs he had stuffed in his boots before he had left his mother. The wind tugged at his braids on either side of his head. Watching the man in front of him play the morin Khuur, he tucked his legs under him for warmth.

He saw a mother camel nearby, gazing on tufts of grass. It must have recently given birth as the infant laid on the ground near the man. The mother had abandoned the newborn calf, leaving the baby to die as it ambled around. She ignored her young's cries as she continually refused to feed it. But as the music played throughout the night with the stars shining brightly, he witnessed a miracle. The mother had come back to the calf, accepting the newborn and letting it feed from it.

"It's beautiful," he said in awe.

Dia Setsen glanced down at the boy beside him. "That is nature, Temujin. It can be cruel... or it can be beautiful," he said while gesturing to the sight before them. "We must always thank mother earth in everything we do, remember that."

"Yes, Sir," Temujin whispered.

That night Temujin slept soundly, and it wasn't till the sun rose the next morning did he wake, feeling refreshed. The sadness of leaving his family had left him while the joy of starting his own made him grin. With a quick glance around he noticed everyone was already gone and walked out of the ger.

Spotting Börte, he made his way to her. "Hi, Madame," he greeted her.

"Hi," Börte spoke as she looked up at the interruption. However, she kept to her task; her hands busying themselves as she cleaned the pelt of the rabbit they ate the night before. "Father has already gone out."

"Why didn't he wake me?" he asked, worried how this would reflect on him.

"He wanted to give you time to adjust." She glanced back up, smiling. "Don't worry, Temijun, you'll have time to prove your worth."

Temijun was about to retaliate, but came short when a group of dogs passed. He froze, keeping his eyes on them. One had caught his stare and began snarling at him. Fear caused Temijun to shake while beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

"Go!" yelled Börte at the guard, seeing how scared Temijun was.

"Yes, madam," he said while pulling the dogs away. "I'm sorry."

Börte didn't pay him any more attention as she touched Temijun's hand. "It's okay," she said softly beside him.

Temijun nodded and blushed slightly due to the embarrassment. It wasn't good to show your fears; it made you look weak.

"You really don't like dogs." She stared into his eyes, trying to understand the boy that will be her husband. "Why?"

"There is darkness to them, in their eyes. I can see it. Pure rage and fury; a kind that holds no boundaries." He turned away from her. "I fear I have that same kind of ruthless darkness inside of me," he shamefully admitted.

"Temijun, I can see you are born to do great things. I know this when I look into your eyes." She paused, waiting for him to look back at her. "That darkness is nothing to fear. If you accept it, it will lead you to greatness."

He began to grin, glad that someone understood him. But it failed short however, when shouting was heard through the camp.

"Temijun!" A young man raced through the camp. "Temijun, where are you?"

"I'm Temijun," Temijun spoke, stepping forward to confront the man. "What do you want?"

"I'm very sorry, Temijun, but your father has been poisoned by the Tatars and is dying."

~

"He is just a boy," spoke one of his tribesmen. "He is too young to lead."

They gathered their things, packing what could fit in their packs and wagons.

"Do not abandon me! I am the wife of your late chieftain!" his mother said as she waved their tribe's flag in her hand, trying to rally them to her cause.

"You were never one of us!" another shouted from her cart, her things already packed in the back. "You were a captured prisoner made to be a wife!"

Others had echoed her agreement, and soon they were all leaving them. Food was hard enough to come by that they didn't want extra mouths to feed, or extra bodies to take care of.

"Come, mother," Temijun said. "It is no use, and we must go."

He took in his mother's face, a look of hopelessness etched upon it. "We'll go into the woods. We will hunt and live to fight another day," he said, trying to raise his mother's spirit.

From that day on, Temijun knew he could no longer be a boy. The world was a cruel place with nature being crueler. He and his family had to scavenge the land, feeding off roots and small game. They fought for survival from day to day while they struggled with power within their group.

This morning had happened to be another day that he saw his older brother stealing food from his sister. He was about to speak up when he heard his mother.

"Look at this arrow." Hoelun said, holding a single arrow in her hand. "See how it breaks." She snapped it in half. Placing the broken arrow down, she then picked up a handful of arrows. "Now you try to break them."

Temijun watched how his brothers each attempted and failed to break all the arrows as they passed them around. When it was his turn, he could not break it either, neither could his only sister when he gave them to her.

"Together, we are strong," his mother said, looking each in the eye. "Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not."

He saw the set determination in his mother's eyes and knew what she said was true. He would never forget the words spoken or the lesson implied. He was a warrior, a mongol, and would make the world his. He would accept the darkness inside of him. After all, his tribe had abandoned them, leaving them with nothing. Even his brother's mothers had left. So he would fight to show them they were wrong, and to prove his worth.

He kissed his mother on the cheek as he picked up his arrows. "Lets go hunt, Behter."

The boys dashed off through the woods that had become their home. Behter, being older, tried to race ahead of Temijun to show that he was stronger out of the two. Not caring, Temijun let him pull ahead. He knew it wasn't speed that got you the kill. It was skill and patience, both of which his brother lacked. Behter had been going against his mother lately and stealing their food when he thought no one was looking. It was only time before Behter tried to take charge, or got them killed.

He caught up to his brother who had stopped. His eyes were wide as he took in the trees. They all had red strips of fabric tied around them.

"Tigers," Behter whispered.

"Are you frightened?" Temijun asked his brother, notching an arrow.

"Yes," replied Behter as he glanced at him.

"Not nearly frightened enough."

Temijun let loose, killing his brother instantly. It was his first human kill, and he didn't feel any remorse. He knew the message his mother gave him. She just didn't have the heart to kill the boy. Even if the boy was taking what little food they had and questioning her authority. His brother wasn't with them; he was only looking out for himself. Like the single arrow that broke, his brother's life was gone.

Finally accepting the darkness, he looked at the woods around him, knowing that soon he would be ready to take back what was his. But he wouldn't be doing it alone.

~

"Is it done?" Temijun asked Subutai as he ripped off another piece of dried meat with his teeth, chewing until he could swallow it down.

"The captives are in position," reported General Subutai.

"Then it's time." He wiped his face clean on his sleeve as he stepped out into the light, leaving behind the black tent."I've had enough of the Merkits."

"More likely, you want to get back to Börte." He looked over the men and women, all more than ready to go to war. "My scout had informed me that the force I sent out had reached the other side."

Temijun got on his horse, grinning at Subutai. "There is that." Subutai had become one of his best friends, one that he was very thankful for. Not many would have guessed a blacksmith's son would make such a fine general. "Light the fires!" he shouted out to his men as his generals carried out the command. He had given them three days to surrender, which they had failed to do so. Now, their lives will be his to take.

Temijun was tired of their interference; Jochi was his son, whether they wanted to believe it or not. They had captured his wife, and they still stood against him. They were the last of the plains to conquer, and with all the tribes united, they would be strong enough to go against the Western Xia Dynasty.

Smoke billowed to the skies behind him as the fires were lit, a sign for his men on the other side to ready themselves. He kept his eyes forward, waiting for the smoke to rise, letting him know that they knew it was time.

Drums began to beat at the first signs of smoke; the sound of death that was about to come as they moved towards their enemies. Cries of their captives clashed with the booming of the drums. It was music to Temijun's ears, reminding him of the morin khuur. Their bodies were struck with arrows as his men used them as shields. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Subutai.

"With your permission, Genghis Khan," Subutai asked, seeing Temijun's eyes on him.

Temijun nodded and the flags were raised. Dead bodies began catapulting through the air, hitting their kin and falling on their homes. The bodies became more mangled while Merkit's swords and shields were used to deflect their dead kinsmen. Rage and fear reflected in their eyes.

The flags were waved yet again, twice this time. They rode forwards with archers shooting arrows, only their legs were guiding the animals. At his feet, dogs raced ahead, ripping into Merkit's warriors. And with bow in hand, he followed in line, killing every Merkit in sight.

No longer was he a boy afraid of the dogs. He was now a man, playing out the course of nature. He had proved to himself and his people that he was no longer a boy. All that was left was to show the world that he was a born leader.