u/Ok_Difficulty_5316

So I'm 15 and I'm really insecure because while everyone says it's great it feels dumb to me since I'm so young. People who have published young/ write seously have you encountered this and if so how do I find the strength to move on? I love writing and want to focus entirely on it. Anyways here's the intro

The End Beast strode into the orchard. Just hours ago, he had marveled at its beauty. Now, as he walked the paths among the trees, it felt almost unreal.

Paths wound their way through the rows of trees, finding endings at benches or walkways leading into other districts. The grass was still wet with dew, vibrant green from yesterday's rain. A cool autumn breeze carried the scent of leaves and fresh fruit. At the heart of the orchard stood a fountain, where several dragons sat chatting quietly at its side. Dragonflies buzzed around its perimeter, drifting lazily in the breeze. All this he took in with a single, measured gaze.

As the breeze ruffled through his mane, the End Beast felt his inner turmoil fade slightly. This was his favorite place to start the day.

What he found most peaceful was not the quiet scene itself, but the dragons. Their conversation felt distant, though they stood only a few yards away.

Sometimes he wished he could be like them, simply existing.

The End Beast closed his eyes, allowing himself to feel the wind against his face. For a moment, he let himself exist as something else, not a king, not a worker, but simply a dragon in an orchard.

But when he opened his eyes, the dragons were still there and he was still himself, the End Beast, king of one of the eight dragon tribes. He still was worried about what the other dragons thought of him.

What did the dragons by the fountain think when they saw him? Did they see another dragon like them, or a king? Are those two any different? The End Beast knew the answer.

He looked down at his talons, thinking of how many dragons they had killed. He reached for the top of his head, grasping the crown. As he twirled it in his claws, it no longer looked beautiful but hideous, dangerous, like it was laughing at him as it sparkled in the morning light. He sighed and kept walking.

The End Beast's claws struck something soft. He looked down to see a small stuffed dragon half buried in mud.

Its surface was torn, once green fabric had faded to brown. As he picked it up carefully, stuffing fell like snow from its ripped seams.

He held it up to the rising sun and, for a moment, he simply stared at it.

This toy.

It had no thoughts.

It had no regrets or memories.

It was completely innocent.

And yet, it had been abandoned, thrown to the dirt to be torn apart by time.

The End Beast understood what it meant to be forgotten.

He carefully tucked the toy by his side and kept walking.

Not fifty paces away, a group of dragonets were laughing as they chased a ball through the grass. The End Beast approached them cautiously.

The dragonets stopped their game to stare at the figure approaching them, their ball rolling into the tall grass nearby.

The smallest dragonet, the leader, stepped up and eyed the End Beast steadily.

"Who are you?" he said fiercely, standing on his talons to make himself seem bigger.

The End Beast looked down at him, unmoved. "A stranger," he replied.

"My mother said not to talk to strangers," the small dragon responded. The End Beast laughed in spite of himself.

"No. Not that kind of stranger. Here, I think you may have dropped this." The End Beast handed the toy to the youngling. The small dragon simply stared for a minute, as if he didn't really believe it. Then he clutched it close to his chest, mud and all, and burst into tears, repeating its given name under his breath, over and over.

The End Beast was turning to go when he saw this.

The war, the dragons he had killed, even the crown.

It all seemed unimportant now.

The dragonet clutched the toy as if it was the most important thing in the world.

The End Beast spread his wings and soared out of the orchard, a quiet feeling of purpose settling in his chest.

"This is why I fight," he thought. "For the ones that can't, and never will." And for a moment, there was no war. But only for a moment....

Thanks for reading!!!