perspective part 1
"Get a move on boy", yelled a short, stout man dressed in drab brown overalls and a wide-brimmed straw hat. The man was covered with mud and dust, leaving the original color of his overalls a mystery. His face was filled with craters of dust and dirt, and when he spoke his teeth were as brown as his clothes.
A similarly mud covered boy, who wasn't much shorter than the man and wore nothing more than a dirty pair of overalls and a mud encrusted flock of brown hair, gave a quick jump as if he'd been kicked. He tore his eyes away from the brightly clad procession of knights and shovelled another lump of manure into the mud pit.
The stout man turned around and went back to work. He was busy shaping a big pile of sand, manure, and mud into a great sized brick that would be used later to build a hovel for himself and the boy. Winter was coming soon, and his previous dwelling had been destroyed in the great summer storms along with most of their crops. He had found the boy sleeping among a pile of brown, dead corn stalks on his farmland shortly after the storms. The boy had not said a single word but had been willing enough to work, which was all that mattered. He wouldn't have enough food to support the boy during winter, but he was desperate. If he didn't get the hovel built for the winter snow, he was good as dead.
The boy lifted his eyes up from his work and peered at the road again, unable to take his eyes off of the glittering coats of armor the knights wore. There was a procession going along the dusty road that ran along the farm, a column of glimmering metal sitting upon muscular flesh, mighty destriers and fuming stallions with war helmets and chained armor covering their flanks. It seemed to stretch on for miles.