A man felt something tug inside him, as if an imaginary fiend was ripping his soul away from him. Angry, he wheeled around to see a boy, of just about seventeen, attempting to blend in with the shadows. "Thief!" the man cried, rushing at the boy and grabbing his arm and twisting it around painfully.
A gasp escaped the boy's lips, who trembled. His fourth time being caught stealing, he couldn't even begin to think of the trouble he'd be in with the court. The man who gripped his so ferociously, pounded him hard in his abdomen, so he would quit fighting back. Finally, as the boy painfully gasped, he doubled over, limp, and let the man drag him out into the freezing, snowy weather.
The judge looked in her records, and saw Char's name written thrice already from times before."We will allow no more exceptions for a scoundrel like you," she denunciated, looking at him with an expression of contempt. "You are banished from this city, finally. You will be dropped off in the Forest of Ismuraa. And pray you don't come back."
"But I had to steal this time! It isn't a crime if you have no choice!" Char protested, struggling and fighting the guards who were attempting to take him away. His green eyes flashed of gold for a second, which the judge saw. Char had no idea of this, and he continued fighting, kicking one of the guards hard in the shin. " I haven't eaten in three days! I have no money, and all I tried to take was a loaf of bread!" When he saw no effect on her face, he just asked, "Please?" quietly.
The judge turned around to a man standing behind her. "Fetch him a few crackers before he leaves," she announced loudly, and coldly.
Char's heart sank. He would surely die in the forest, it was winter and he was only a street boy who ate only once in about two days, because he couldn't afford food. He'd run away from home four years ago, and couldn't go back because pirates had raided the town he was born in, and killed everyone. Even if his parents were alive, he wouldn't have gone back. Anything was better than the home he had lived in.
Only I didn't starve there, he thought miserably. The only thing he gained from living in that terrible place was that his family didn't kill him.
But they wanted to. I know that.
This judge obviously wanted him dead. Or why would she send him to the Forest of Ismuraa? Everyone knew how likely it was to survive there. It's nickname was the "Forest of Doom."
Char gave one last pleading glance at the judge. When she only stared back at him, a wicked smile grew on his face, hiding his despair, as he quickly snatched out a knife and pulled away from the guards. "You won't catch me! I promise you!" he yelled to everyone present, as he fled from the court - and from this city too, he realized.
Urana Sephoria was a middle-aged woman, enjoying life as peacefully as she could, in the small town of Bejoyr. Or so people thought. Her small cottage was large enough for only her, not even a guest. It gave off a warm and cozy feeling, and was dark but lit up with many candles.
When Urana heard of the thief who had apparently fled to Bejoyr in hope of refuge, she began to go outside in the late evenings for walks everyday. She had never been bothered about intruders, and she wasn't about to start worrying now. Especially not now.
One night, as she strolled around casually, a glimpse of a shadow caught her eye. Very fit, and able to run, she darted after, but softly and quietly, so the figure wouldn't come to know of her. She slowed down as the rustle of leaves quieted.
He's around here, she thought. Finally, as she rounded a corner, she saw a boy with golden skin and olive green eyes leaning against a tree and cursing under his breath. He looked dirty and half starved, as if he had been outside for a few weeks.
"That wouldn't be the best place to hide, you know," Urana spoke confidently, but softly as she stepped out in front of him.
Char jumped back, startled, and stood far from her, his hand clutching the hilt of his obsidian knife in his pocket. His olive eyes darted around for any chance to run.
"You're the thief everyone is talking about," she observed out loud, and taking a step closer to him. "How old are you, boy?"
His grip tightened on his knife he started at the woman with narrowed eyes. Thinking better of it, Char just gruffly responded, "I don't know." He looked down.
Urana didn't blink. "And your name?"
"Char," he muttered. "I think."
Urana nodded thoughtfully. Finally, she reached out for Char's free hand and said, "Come with me."
"No!" He pulled free from her tight grasp. "I don't even know you! And anyone, any sane person would turn me in! Except they don't know I'm not some person who doesn't have anything better to do than pickpocket!" Char shook his head, confused by his own words. "I don't know you. To you, I'm just some thief, and you're going to turn me in."
"I won't turn you in. I-"
Char laughed. "You think I'll believe that? No thank you, I'm doing just fine on my own."
"Just fine? Does just fine mean your arm's condition right now?" she inquired, nodding her head towards where blood trickled down from his shoulder. When he didn't respond, she went on. "And how long has it been since you've eaten? You look starved. You can trust me."
"I don't trust anyone. Anyone I've ever trusted has let me down. I've learned my lesson."
Obviously this wasn't going to work. Urana finally said, "You come and stay with me, and do everything I tell you to, and I'll keep you from getting into trouble. You must realize you can't run forever. Stay with me, and you can be safe from them."
Char looked thoughtful. He sifted his weight, still thinking about the offer, then asked, "You promise?" He suddenly looked like young innocent boy, begging his parents to buy him a toy.
She shook her head. "I can't promise anything. But I'll try."
Once seated in Urana's house, Char's stomach growled. It had been at least four days since he'd eaten, and one week since he'd left the court.
"We'll clean the wound on your shoulder first, then you can eat," Urana told him, obviously noticing. Char nodded, pulling off his shirt. He winced as he remembered how he'd gotten the cut. It was old, yet it wouldn't stop bleeding. The next day after he'd run away from the court, a few of the guards caught him and swiped a knife across his shoulder in attempt to make him weaker. It didn't work. He got away.
When Urana came back from the other room, she was holding a bottle of some yellow-ish liquid and a paper tissue. "I'm going to let you do this, because it will sting. You must do it though, or you'll never heal."
Char nodded again, solemnly, and put some of the liquid on the tissue. As he held it to his wound, he flinched away immediately, shocked by the intensity of how much it burned. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to rub hard on the wound before he could change his mind.
"You're definitely underfed," Urana remarked, looking at him. Char just nodded weakly as she took away the tissue. "Leave it open for a while," she instructed, signaling to the streak that was no longer a deep red on his shoulder. "You don't seem afraid of pain," she said to him while walking out of the room.
He glared after her. Couldn't she see he didn't want to talk to her? He didn't trust her either. That "deal" they made, that didn't prove anything. She could easily get him banished after getting what she wanted from him. It wouldn't be the first time, anyway. He could deal with it yet once more, he realized.
Why was she helping him anyway? He'd known that everyone in the town (whatever it was named) knew about him and were afraid; why did she go looking for him?
When she'd found him earlier that evening, he had been shocked. He'd completely frozen, cold dread trickling into him slowly as realization crept into his mind that he might not get away again. And although he'd been clutching his knife, he'd always known that he would not be able to use it. It would be too cruel to use it, even if in defense.
Char glanced up as Urana stood over him. "Your knife?" she asked expectantly, her hand stretched out towards him. When he only stared at her, bewildered, she explained patiently, "Your knife. The one you had thought of using on my but couldn't? I'd like to have it."
"But-" Char began, but stopped, still recovering from shock. How did she know he had one? It was as if she read his mind. "But, I don't want to give it to you," he muttered straight out, not thinking of politeness. He never did.
Her hand was still extended in front of him, and her lips were pursed tight, not saying a word. Finally he gave a long, loud, exasperated sigh, and reached a hand in his pocket. "Must I?" he asked once more? He met her eyes, and the intensity of her eyes burning into his was enough of an answer. He pulled it out, and laid it on her hand, not at all carefully.
Urana smiled, and strolled over to nasty, damaged looking wall. Raising her hand high, and far behind her, as if she were a skilled fighter, she plunged it into the wall. The cottage shook slightly, by the power of her blow. She spun around, and looked him in the eye, still smiling. For a moment, Char thought he saw a fire flash in her eyes. "Now. You may not pull that out from the wall, should I not allow you to. Knives have no place in this house, nor this town."
Char simply glared at her. "Watch me," he snarled, while standing up. He then stalked over to where the hilt of the knife jutted out of the wall. Not at all tentatively, he reached a hand out, but a moment before touching it, white hot pain began to burn the palm and fingers of his hand. He screamed and held his hand with the other. The pain slowly faded away; it had been worse than anything he had felt before.
"You may not pull that out from the wall, should I now allow you to," she repeated monotonously.
"Then I, am leaving this, this...place," he declared, marching defiantly to the door. Just as he reached out, a glimpse of the sensation he'd felt before crept back. He pulled away immediately, and turned back to Urana. "So...um, what do you want me for?" he asked sheepishly and weakly.
"May I ask you something, Char?" Urana conversed early in the morning while frying an egg. Char just looked at her expectantly. "What do you yearn in life? Do you wish to always remain a street boy? Or-"
Her voice stopped as Char turned away, his eyes hidden. Anger blazed through him like a dancing fire. She talked so freely! Why couldn't she just understand that he didn't want to be here?
"You may leave if you want to," Urana piped up. "I realize all too well that you may not want to be here, that you may wish to live on the streets, with no food." Char greedily looked at whatever Urana was cooking.
Ignoring her question, he asked, "What is that you are making? I've seen people cook it before, but never knew what it was."
Urana sighed. "This, is a fried egg," she responded, scooping it up and dumping it in Char's plate."Eat," she commanded.
Char didn't need to be told. He was already stuffing it in his mouth. His aching stomach still yearned for food; Urana forbade him from eating more than she served last night for dinner. He'd anyway tried sneaking over to grab some more food, but that pain restricted him. That annoyed him. And unnerved him.
"What do you keep doing to me?" he asked bluntly, staring straight at her.
"That is not for you to know yet. In time I will tell you. when you are ready," she added forcefully, seeing his mouth open in complaint.
A slice of bread landed in Char's plate. "You know what that is?" Urana inquired. Char just nodded, remembering the loaf of bread he'd try to snatch the other day.
He shifted uncomfortably as Urana sat next to him. Afraid that she would do her burning thing again, he forced himself not to move away from her instinctively. Char flinched as her hand landed on her shoulder.
Instead, a soothing warmth crept into him as if he sat beside a flaming hearth. Relaxing, he let his shoulders fall ad turned wide-eyed and expectantly to Urana. She smiled.
"Do you want me to teach you? Teach you what everyone learns at school."
Char raised his eyebrows, surprised. What did this person want to do with him? he wondered yet again. "Sure," he shrugged.
"You must follow my rules though, alright?" Urana asked him, her face serious. Light flickered in her eyes for less than a second as Char nodded.
"You mustn't leave here shall I not instruct you to do so. But now, I would like you to take these, and go and buy a small book," she instructed, holding a few coins. "Also, select one food you would like." Urana paused for a moment, then added with a wry smile, "And do remember to pay."
Char figured it would be alright to go to any store, so he just entered the first one he found. Picking up the first things he found, he looked around for whoever he was supposed to pay. When he saw a man accepting money, he walked to him. Tension glimpsed in him, though he suspected he was doing nothing wrong.
"Here," Char announced, holding the money out to the man, not because he wanted to, but because Urana would fire off at him if he didn't, he knew.
Glancing at Char somewhat suspiciously, the man snatched the money away from him. "Who are you?" he asked gruffly.
"Someone," he replied casually, but returning the glare equally.
"Don't test me boy. Who are you?" he demanded roughly.
Char's and immediately flew to his pocket, to find emptiness. He cursed under his breath, then answered, "You don' need to know."
"Boy...." he warned in a low, threatening tone. Char just shrugged.
He gasped as all of a sudden he was slammed into a wall. His shoulder screamed with pain as it was wrenched. Then, gathering all the strength he could muster, he hit the man as hard as he could in the stomach - with little success. But the man was caught off guard, and Char did it again, and again. The man slumped down, and Char fled at full speed to somewhere he could hide.
Creeping around in an alleyway, Char cursed and muttered under his breath, kicking around at small objects on the ground. He'd already ruined things in this town for him. If things got too bad, he may have to escape again.
After calming down, and stopping all the trembling, Char sighed and decided to go back to Urana's house.
Oh, she won't be too happy, he dreaded, anticipating her reaction. Feeling something hot and liquidy on his arm, he glanced over and saw his shoulder was bleeding again. It pained terribly, too.
This wasn't the worst off he had been before though. Once, with his "friends", he had broken into a rich noble's mansion. When a glass broke, the couple owning the place came to see what was happening. The man of the house went ofter Char himself, and got hold of his knife. Char shuddered, remembering the state he had been in when he finally escaped. The other two thieves had been punished greatly after that night. They had killed the man and woman in an attempt to flee.
Char reached Urana's cottage, unwilling to step in. Bracing himself, he slowly picked the lock, as slowly as he could, then shoved his way in.
Urana was standing there, waiting for him. "I heard the lock," she explained. Amusement danced in her gray eyes. "I hope you realize that you may just knock and I will open it for you?" When he only stared at her, dumbfounded, she looked at his shoulder. "Sit," she commanded.
Char shuffled to a nearby chair, suddenly feeling weak. Collapsing down, he stared at the floor, waiting for Urana to speak.
For a long time, no one sounded a word. Finally, Urana said softly, "Tell me what happened." Char looked up at her. Her eyes reflected disappointment, but also curiosity. Though she seemed to already know, by the tone of her voice. He just looked at the wooden floorboards. "Tell me now." Her voice became firmer.
Reluctantly, he finally explained the happenings. "It wasn't my fault!" he finished. "It wasn't, it really wasn't!" Char cowered under her unaffected gaze.
"Go to bed," Urana instructed simply.
