A Chosen One?

    Well, I'm it this year. 

    Every decade, some twerp we call the "old grand master" names someone as the "chosen one" and sends them on some quest to find ourselves. Something boring like that. I think it is usually someone putting some coin or something valuable in the old man's underwear and telling him which "chosen one" would be the best one. Like some bizarre game or bet. Either way, our parents weren't too happy when we got-

    Oh, I forgot. It's not just me. 

    This year, it's him and I. 

    We are twins. Born and raised that way. Thankfully, we are both men, so our mother didn't dress us up in those ugly dresses and parade us around like royalty while we were little. We were just told to tend to the animals and the farmland. Father taught us how, and soon enough we were slinging alfalfa and milking goats better than most of the farm hands from the wealthier farmers in the area. Our work was quick, lean, and much easier on the eyes than most. 

    For some reason, someone must have put something up the old twerp's butt. Cause we are the chosen ones. It was a shocker, that's for sure. We just turned 30 years old, much older than a chosen one who was 10 or 20. He made up some nonsense about how "this was the most important quest for the town" and "we would come back as great heroes." Honestly, I don't remember the rest of it. I was asleep for most of the speech he gave after he announced it to the town. My bother could tell you better than I could, but not by much. I caught him sleeping too. 

    So off we go, I guess. The old man said it could take a while, so to pack stuff to survive in the woods and wherever else we ended up. I might as well just back up the whole cabin at that rate then.

    We're it this year. Let's see what that could mean.