#like oh ok that’s fine i just already decorated everything in reds and black/white/grey so that clashes horrifically but sure

[sarcastic-clapping]

mid-century modern….save me mid-century modern. mid-century modern save me.

[anne-white-star]

Third doctor x princess!reader

Notes : reader is a princess from a difrent universe/world and wakes up to a letter she got from her parents to anouche her futer mariage with a suitor she doesn't even know

M/name- mothers name

F/name - father name

Warnings: non wel if you count manipilation

Words: 2,561

Y/n woke up one morning and started to get dressed. When something out the cornor catches her eyes. " Whats this?" She turned the paper around and to her shock it was from her parents, y/n knew because it had the royal seal on she started to read it to herself.

"Dear y/n "

"We urge you to come home as quick as you can because we have news for you and we want to personaly tell it to you"

Sencerely

mom and dad.

Well i guese i should tell the doctor then. She stood up And went in search for him.

"Good morning doctor"

"Ah good morning y/n did you sleep wel?"

"Yes i did....... doctor i have to go home"

"Why? Is something wrong? "

"My parents want me home as soon as posseble, they have news for me"

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"That would be great" y/n looked down on her self "i need to get changed i'll be back in a few minuts"

"Do i also have to change?"

"You don't have to but if you want its always an option" she smiled softly. Y/n walked back to her room and opend the closet she grabed a big victorian dress with pink stripes on it, she undressed and put it on

(The story is not period bound it can be any dress but its not later then the 1919 *throws glitter* because Magic and fantasy)

During the time y/n went to change the doctor sent the TARDIS on its way to y/n her parents their kingdom.

"Im back, so what do you think" she did a twirl

"You look wonderfull"

"Wel thank you kind sir" she grinned

The doctor decided to just keep his normal clothes on it was classy enough.

Once y/n opend the TARDIS door they were greated by a big garden full of flowers and green things you have never seen, to the sides stood status big and small and a big fountain stood in the middel of it al (hey that rimes hehehe)

"Oh wow its magnifiek" said the doctor while looking around

"We have the best caretakes in the whole kingdom" she smiled "you see that tree over there" she pointed at a large tree "thats where i build my treehouse"

"A treehouse for a princess? I never thought" he smirked

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, but now it belongs to the cats that are in our garden"

"Hmm i see, its good it doesn't go to waste"

When they stoped talking they had reached the end of the Path and they both stood at the door "comeone lets get in i bet they have been waiting for long" . They both stepped trough the door in to a large coridor "this way" y/n grabed his hand and they both walked to an other big door when they stepped before it the door opend on his own. At the end of the royal hall were two people seated on two thrones.

(In this picture its only one but imagine there are two)

"Mother, father" y/n ran up And hugged them

"Y/n sweetheart we missed you" said her mother

"And who's this?" Asked her father

"Mother, father this the doctor the man that i have been travelling with, doctor these are my parents M/name and

F/name"

"Its a honnor to meet you your majesties" the doctor bowed to them

"Oh please call us by our first names"

"Mother why did i have to come home?"

"Oh sweetheart we have news for you"

"What news?"

"We found you a suitor"

Y/n blinked a few times "a.. a suitor w... why?"

"Oh dear you are old enough now and we need to pass our kingdom on to you one day" said her father

"But i don't want a suitor we talked about this before i left to travel"

"Oh sweetheart we know but 3 years after you left he came and had dinner with is that he prepared himself and told us why he was here"

"Doctor?"

"Hmm yes?"

"Is it alright if i let a servant escort you to my bed chamber?"

"Its fine if You want to talk alone"

"Merda?" A young girl with blond bob hair in a black dress with white apron walked up to them

"Yes?"

"Please escort the doctor to my bed chamber i'll be there in 30 minuts "

"Of course your highness"

Once the doctor was gone y/n let go of a sigh "look i don't want to get forced i want to find real love "

" But dear this could be real love"

Then the royal horn sounded

"Oh that must be him" her mother smiled, y/n meet your suitor lord Russell Becker"

A tall man walked in with shoulder lenght black hair and yellow eyes he wore a red blouse with black waist coat, dark grey pants black polished shoes and a long coat it was a dark red almost black, he gave off bad vibes y/n could feel it

"Its so good to be back and meet my futer wife" he grind

" ah lord Russell its so good to see you again" F/name

"Lord Russell may i introduse you to our daughter princess y/n"

"Ah the lovely princess its a honour to meet you" he bowed down before her and kissed her hand

Y/n pulled her hand back in disgust and anger "ah yes it lovley to meet you my lord" y/n paused "i have to go im sorry" she turned around and ran away to the big doors

"Y/n come back!!! *sigh* im so sorry our daughter isnt to happy about the news "

"Its alright I understand" *damn it this women is smarther than i thought she was*

Meanwhile in y/n her bed chamber the doctor was looking around when he heared the doors open and then lock

"Y/n?" The doctor turned around and looked at her and saw her crying "oh dear whats wrong?"

She walked to the fainting chair " the man that im suposed to marry *hickup* hes, hes evil i can feel it something is not right"

"Oh dear" he rubbed her back "i bet they understand"

*hickup* "i already explained to them before i left.... doctor i don't want to marry somone who i don't love"

"It can be hard i understand everything will be alright"

"We should be getting ready for dinner i bet they want to talk"

Y/n put on an other pink victorian gown with frills and the doctor Changed in to a suit, both of them walked to the dining room

"Doctor i really don't want to get angry again"

"I understand that but its ok if you arn't happy about it"

The doctor opend the door for her and let them selfs in, y/n her parents were already seated the doctor sat next to her at the table

"Ah there you are my dear your fiance is a bit later"

"I don't have a fiance mother im not condoning this" she placed her hands in her lab

"Y/n We want the best for you dear please"

Y/n siged and looked away, the doctor on the other hand was thinking about all of this he was shaken out of his trance when the big doors of the dining room opend and lord Russell walked in his yellow eyes piercing y/n her e/c once

"Ah lord Russell great for you to finaly join us please do sit down" y/n her father gestured to an empty seat

"Thank you your highnes" he sat down acros from y/n "may i say you look very lovely this evening"

"Thank you but flatery will not get you anywere lord Russell" y/n glared at him but y/n her mom glared at y/n for making sutch a remark

"Please do excuse our daughter... Ah diner is ready just in time" everybody got a plate and they started to eat

M/name wiped her mouth with a handcechief "so hows the wedding preperations going for the end of this week?"

Y/n chocked on her food and the doctor was quick to react and patted her on the back "THE WHAT!!!!????"

"Your and lord Russell's wedding of course"

Y/n stood up "No absolutly not i will not Marry this man"

F/name stood up as wel "Y/n You will do as we say we are your parents and we want the best for you!"

"If you really want the best for me then you would lisen and don't force me in to something i don't want to do!"

"Alright go to your room young lady i wil not tolorate sutch behavoir!"

"Honestly i don't care you don't care about my feelings" y/n turned around and ran out of the dining room

The doctor stood up as wel " Honestly she has a point you know you should lissen to what she has to say " he also turned around and walked away

"Im so sorry for all this" y/n her mother said

*that blasted women how am i going to take over the kingdom.... Ah yes * "Its alright your highness i bet she will change her mind just prepare the wedding in a few days"

"We wil start right away" f/name smiled

"Good"

Meanwhile in y/n her bed chamber the doctor was comforting his companion

"I just don't understand why?... why would they break my heart like this we talked about it a lot Before i left they promiced " she sobbed with her face in a pillow

"Calm down my dear it be alright"

"Doctor i noticed something weird about their eyes"

"What is it?"

"They arent their usual color they are mutch lighter"

"Of course" the doctor stood up And walked in circles"

"What is it doctor?"

"They had dinner the first time they met right? Wel i think he put something in their food or drink to get them under controle"

"But why?'

"So that he can become king and of he marries you that will be sure"

"I knew something was wrong with him"

"Doctor i don't want to be rude but im tired an would love to sleep"

"Alright go get dressed and then we call it a night i stay here with you mabey i go and read something" he softly stroked her head

"You can either sleep on the fainting chair or sleep with me in bed im not bothered if you sleep in bed with me its big enough"

"Alright but now get dressed chop chop"

" Thanks doctor you always know how to cheer me up" she smiled

Two days had gone by and day three had finaly arived the day of princess y/n and lord Russell's wedding. y/n was forced in to her wedding dress, the dress and everything was lovley but its not the same as it would be if she would Marry her actual love

"Mother what if i will not be happy?"

"Of course you will be happy"

"No i don't im sure i won't be happy.... The first time you and father met him he cooked food right? "

"Yes but why do you want to know? "

"Just curious i guese we should get going "

"Chin up dear its your special day"

"I know" a lonely tear trailed down her cheek y/n hadent seen the doctor sinds that morning but when she saw him she blushed. He looked really handsome in the royal suit he wore decorated with a red shash and medals he also had a sword at his side

People sat down and waited for the wedding to start everybody was chatting about and lord Russell stood at the altar waiting for his new wife

*a few more minuts and then i have the hand of this girl then im finaly king* he smiled to himself thinking about it.

Then the music started and people went quite. Y/n walked down the aisle that was coverd in flowers they also hung from the cealing. When she reached the end the music stoped

"Dear family, friends and others today we have come together to tie the knot between these lovers, may we have the rings please?" Y/n's father stood up And gave them to the priest " Thank you, now, Russell Becker do you promice to protect and love y/f/n thil death do you part?"

"I do"

"Y/f/n do you promice to protect and love Russell Becker thil death do you part?"

"Umm " y/n looked down tears started to fall "I, i do" she started to shake

"Is anybody objecting against this mariage?"

"I am" gasps went around the doctor stood up And walked to the altar "i honestly don't understand why you all can't see that this poor girl is extremly scared" he turned to her "y/n Im stoping this mariage"

"You will absolutly not"

Everybody looked at lord Russell "you all don't understand how long i have waited for this day to finaly marry here and become king and now you wil not ruin that for me" lord Russell grabed his sword and pointed it at the doctor "i will battle for her hand if i must and kill you in the proces

"Thats what we shal see" the doctor grabed his own sword and they both started fighting

"Oh dear goodness" y/n gasped and went to hide but was stoped when lord Russell grabed her and put his sword to her throte

"No body move or the princess loses her head"

"Let her go" the doctor grinted his teeth

Lord russle grabed her even tighter and the sword started to draw blood "i said don't move"

The doctor did a sudden move and lord Russell fell backwards to the ground, y/n was let go and ran to her parents

"oh sweetheart we are so sorry" her mother huged her

"Its alright"

The doctor stood over lord Russell not moving away, some guards came and put him in shackles and took him away

Y/n turned away from her parents and walked up to the doctor and huged him "thank you for saving me" she kissed him on the cheek

"What do we do now the wedding is over" said y/n her father

"Wel not enterly" the doctor took something out his pocket and went down on his knee before y/n, "y/n we have known echoter for quite some years now we have been in a relation ship with echoter for the past year and that was absolutly amazing, but now i want to ask you do you want to become my wife?"

"Yes!! a milion times yes!!" She huged him and kissed him

"You both have our blessings"

the priest did his word again "doctor do you promice to protect and love y/f/n thil death do you part?"

"I do"

Y/f/n do you promice to protect and love the doctor thil death do you part?"

"I do"

"Then pronouns you to husband and wife, you may kiss the bride "

And so they did it started out as a wedding against her will but she ended up marrying her true love. also the potion lord russle gave to her parents had worn off and they were back to normal they gave their apologies to their daughter and everybody was happy. 

The end

I hope you enjoyed reading 😊

[hearts-hunger]

Take Care of Those You Call Your Own || Part 2

Masterlist || Read on ao3 here ♡

Part Summary: Brian and Freddie get up early for school and work, trying to keep from waking their boyfriends. They enjoy their morning walk to Imperial College London and fret about leaving their poor sick boyfriends at home.

Pairings: Poly!Queen

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: A tiny bit of period-typical homophobia, but otherwise none!

A/N: Ok dolls! Here’s part two! As evidenced by this part, this series has literally zero plot. It’s just fluff for its own sake, and as far as plot goes it’s slow-moving at best. That said, it’s really soft, and I hope you enjoy it! This one’s a bit Maycury-centric, and the next part will be Dealor-centric, but it’s always Poly!Queen up in this piece and I will always try my best to give each boy their due amount of love from the other three ♡

Six a.m. came far too early, the alarm clock on the nightstand chirping dutifully until Brian fumbled around in the darkness to turn it off. He blearily watched the little white numbers until the last tile flipped from zero to one, sighing against the pillow as he tried to build up the will to get out of the warm and very comfortable bed. Groaning softly, he gently and begrudgingly disentangled his gangly limbs from the blankets, careful not to wake anyone else.

The hardwood floor was cold on his bare feet, and he grabbed a pair of socks from the top drawer before pulling on Freddie’s sweater he’d discarded on the back of the chair last night. He pulled back the curtain just enough to peek outside to the London street below; the world outside was sleepy and beautiful, covered in a heavy blanket of snow and still waking up in the grey morning light. He tried not to think of how unpleasant it would be to walk to school in ankle-deep snow; in the warmth of his bedroom, winter was lovely, and he enjoyed it while he could.

He stifled a yawn behind his sleeve as he went over to the other side of the bed, running a hand gently up and down Freddie’s arm to wake him.

“Time to get up, Fred,” he said softly, enough to wake the older man but not enough to disturb the younger men still sleeping peacefully.

Freddie gave a pitiful groan. “Already?”

Brian couldn’t help a sympathetic chuckle. “Yes, love, I’m afraid so.”

Freddie’s eyes fluttered open as he turned onto his back, looking up at Brian with a sleep-softened gaze. A tender smile crossed his face.

“Could get used to waking up to your face every morning,” he said gently. He reached up and glanced his fingers over Brian’s jaw.

Brian smiled. “Lucky for you, you’ll probably be waking up to me every morning, since I seem to have taken on the role of your personal alarm clock.”

“Oh, you don’t mind,” Freddie teased lightly. Brian loved the way his boyfriend’s voice sounded when he first woke, soft and a little hoarse and full of affection.

Brian gave Freddie’s fingers a gentle kiss. “No, I don’t mind,” he agreed. “Why don’t you have your shower and I’ll make us some breakfast, hm?”

Freddie carefully rose from bed, gently prying John’s hands from his arm and giving the bassist’s knuckles a kiss before he left John to sleep. He gave a disgruntled huff at how cold the floor was.

“Bloody freezing,” he said. He put his arms around Brian’s waist and snuggled close to the taller man, burying his face against Brian’s chest.

“Oh, now we’ll never get anything done,” Brian said, putting his arms over Freddie’s shoulders and holding him close.

“That was my plan all along,” Freddie said. Brian chuckled and did his best to warm Freddie up.

Freddie looked up, his angular features so beautiful in the soft morning light. “Come in the shower with me?”

Brian peppered gentle kisses all over Freddie’s face. “Are you crazy? My hair would never dry. I’d be a popsicle trying to walk to school with damp hair.”

Freddie giggled, the sound warming Brian all the way through. “I suppose you’re right. Can’t have you catching cold too, can we, darling?”

“God, I don’t have time to be sick,” Brian said, anxious just thinking about it. “I’ve got to finish this bloody draft before the holidays, and we’ve still got songs to record, and I - ”

“Shh, lovely, hush,” Freddie soothed, brushing a curl behind Brian’s ear. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry. Everything’s going to be just fine. Please don’t fret. It’s six in the morning, far too early for all that.”

Brian chuckled. “Yeah, you’re right.” He gave Freddie a quick kiss. “What do you want for breakfast?”

Freddie gave a dismissive wave of his hand as Brian released him. “Whatever you make will be lovely, darling.”

Brian made his way out to the kitchen as he heard Freddie turn on the shower, crossing his arms over his chest against the cold of the rest of the flat. He set about making tea as the first order of business, humming quietly to himself as he made a simple toast breakfast for the two of them.

“What did you decide on, my darling?” Freddie asked as he came out of the bedroom, towel-drying his hair. He was dressed warmly but fashionably in a white thermal shirt, black pants that hugged his slender hips, and a flowy red velvet jacket. It could be the worst blizzard London had ever seen and Freddie would still dress up, something Brian found equal parts amusing and attractive.

“Mmh, toast,” Brian said. “Your plate’s just there. Have a nice shower?”

“Oh, delightful,” Freddie said. “Water’s nowhere near hot, which makes for a lovely bathing experience.”

“Oh, no,” Brian said with a sympathetic laugh. “Poor thing. Here, have some tea. That’ll warm you up.”

Freddie gratefully accepted the mug of tea from Brian, letting it warm his hands for a moment before sipping at it. He surveyed their living room over the rim of the mug.

“Christmas is only a few weeks away,” he said thoughtfully. 

Brian hummed in agreement as he enjoyed his breakfast.

Freddie raised a brow. "Our flat is rather dreary for being this close to Christmas, don't you think?"

Brian smiled. "You're ready to decorate?"

"Darling, I've been ready to decorate since Halloween," Freddie enthused. "Do you think…"

He looked a little bashful. "I know we haven't got a lot of time this weekend, with you finishing up your draft and us needing to be in the studio all hours, but…"

"You'd like to decorate this weekend?" Brian asked sweetly.

Freddie smiled. "It might be a nice treat, you know, with Rog and John being under the weather and all. It might put us all in better spirits."

Brian chuckled and kissed Freddie's cheek, feeling the warmth of his endearing blush. "'Course we can decorate this weekend," he said. He'd find a way to lasso the moon if Freddie asked for it. "Maybe tonight, if the boys are feeling better.”

“Could we really?” Freddie asked with a beaming smile. “Oh, Brimi, you’re a darling, you know that?”

Brian smiled. “I’m your darling.”

Freddie grinned and gave his boyfriend a kiss. “Quite right. You’re my darling.” Freddie kissed him once more before giving his shoulder a gentle shove. “My darling who’s going to be late if he doesn’t go get dressed.”

Taking his cup of tea with him, Brian left Freddie to his breakfast as he went back to their bedroom to get dressed. He didn’t need to look very professional - his only suit was one that was a hand-me-down from his father, and Freddie had done some alterations on it so it didn’t hang off him quite so obviously - and he rarely dressed up for school if he wasn’t meeting with one of his advisors. He set his tea on one of the nightstands, deciding on a pair of well-worn jeans and his pink and purple striped thermal shirt.

“Brimi?”

Brian turned at the call of his name, a smile already surfacing at John’s sleepy voice. The younger man was snuggled close to Roger, bundled head to toe in blankets, his cheeks pink and his doe-brown eyes impossibly gentle when they looked at Brian.

“Good morning, love,” Brian said softly. “You alright?”

“You’re getting ready to go?” John asked.

Brian hummed in agreement. “We’ll probably be home by lunch,” he said. “D’you think you and Rog are ok to stay here alone?”

John nodded, moving over a little to make room for Brian as he came to sit on the edge of the bed. Brian brushed John’s hair back from his face, feeling the warmth of his fever.

“How about some medicine before I go, hm?” Brian said. “That way you won’t have to worry about it. And I’ll give Roger some too.”

John preened under Brian’s touch. “Okay,” he agreed. “Actually, don’t wake Rog. He was up a few minutes ago and just fell back asleep. I’ll make him have some later, if that’s ok.”

Brian smiled. “Perfectly alright by me, love. It’s good of you to let him sleep. Though I would have thought you’d like to avoid fussing with him about it.” Roger could be a bit of a handful to deal with when he was sick, especially when asked to take medicine.

John’s laugh dissolved into a few rough coughs, and Brian tutted sympathetically.

“Poor love,” he cooed. “Let me go get your medicine, ok? Sit tight.”

John wasn’t of a mind to do anything else, warm and snugly cocooned next to his blonde boyfriend who was a furnace even when he wasn’t feverish. He sat up a bit when Brian retrieved the medicine from the bathroom and returned to give John a dose, a laugh bubbling from the older man when John made a face at the strong taste.

“Not too tasty, that, is it?” Brian asked. “Here, have my tea.”

“Oh, no, Brian, you won’t be able to drink it after me,” John said, not taking the mug that Brian offered.

“I know, you goose,” Brian teased affectionately. “I’m giving it to you. I’ll make some more.”

John hesitantly took it. “Are you sure?”

Brian kissed John’s forehead before standing to return the medicine. “Yes, sweetheart. I’ll just put the medicine on the counter so you can find it for Rog later, okay?”

“Hey,” John said, taking hold of Brian’s hand as he stood. Brian studied John’s face with a look of worry.

“What?”

John smiled and it eased Brian’s worry. “Have a good day at school, Brimi.”

Brian smiled and gave John’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “Thanks, love. You can ring up if you need anything, ok? You remember the extension?”

“73,” John said. He gave Brian a cheeky smile. “As if I could forget the extension of the phone I get called to fix at least twice a month.”

Brian laughed and tried to hide a blush behind his hands. “Yes, well, it’s a finicky thing, that phone.”

John giggled and held onto Brian’s hand a moment longer before letting him go, sipping at his tea as Brian went to put the medicine away and finish getting ready. Freddie came into the bedroom, his hands fluttering around like they did when he was nervous.

“Oh, bollocks,” he said, looking slightly panicked. He saw John was up and his lips bowed in surprise.

“John, love,” he said. “You’re up.”

“Just to have medicine,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

Freddie waved a hand, indicating he didn’t want John to worry. “I’ve just misplaced my bracelet, that’s all.”

John smiled; it was very like Freddie to get worked up over a missing bracelet. “Which one?”

“The big gold one,” he said, “you know, with the red flowers on it? It’d go perfectly with my belt, but I can’t seem to find it.”

“It’s on top of the dresser,” John said confidently, nodding in that direction. “Might be in the jewelry box, but it’s up there.”

Freddie looked in the jewelry box in question and gave a delighted gasp when he pulled the missing bracelet out.

“John, darling, you’re marvelous,” he gushed, putting the bracelet on his wrist and showing it off a bit. John had to admit it did look rather good with his outfit. “What would I ever do without you, flower?”

John smiled and set Brian’s tea back on the nightstand, settling back down next to Roger. “Lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out.”

Freddie gave a pleased hum of agreement as he graced John with a beaming smile. John loved Freddie’s smile; to him, it was one of the most beautiful things in the world.

“Oh, look at the two of you,” Freddie cooed, seeing his two youngest boyfriends cuddled together. “I wish I could stay and cuddle you both, darling.”

“I wish you could too,” John said. Freddie’s heart nearly couldn’t take the soft pleading tone in John’s hoarse voice.

“My darling,” he said tenderly. “You’re too lovely for your own good, you know that?”

John beamed as Freddie leaned down to kiss his cheek.

“Oh, guess what?” Freddie said excitedly. “Bri said we could decorate tonight if you and Rog were feeling up to it. It might be a bit much after being at the studio this afternoon, but - ”

“Oh Fred, could we really?” John interrupted, his expression bright. “I’d really like to if we can.”

Freddie smiled. “If you’re feeling better, my love, we’ll do whatever you want,” he promised. “Just rest up for me, and we’ll see how it goes, okay?”

John nodded in agreement, the thought of decorating the flat for Christmas already enough to make him feel a bit better. He wished he wasn’t sick, but he’d do everything he could to be feeling well enough, and to prove to Brian and Freddie that he wasn’t too sick to decorate.

“Wonderful,” Freddie said. He kissed the tip of John’s nose, drawing a giggle from the younger man. “We’ve got to get going, lovely, but call Brian at school if you need anything, alright? You two take good care of each other.”

“Could you stop and get some more tissues before you come home?” John asked. “We have enough to last until then, but I think Rog is going to need some more.”

As if to prove his boyfriend’s point, the still-sleeping blonde gave a snore that suggested how congested he was.

“Sure, of course,” Freddie said. “We’ll stop by the store on the way home. Anything else you can think of?”

John shook his head and Freddie patted his leg.

“Okay, then, darling. See you later. I love you.”

John smiled. “Love you too.”

Freddie gave his boyfriend one last quick kiss before heading back out to the living room; John heard him putting his jacket on and imagined Freddie all bundled up in the faux fur coat he always said looked “rather debonair”. Brian came out of the bathroom, a bit of eyeliner bringing out his lovely eyes, and blew John a kiss.

“Love you, sweetheart,” he said, grabbing his messenger bag from where he’d dropped it in the corner last night. “Tell Rog when he wakes up we love him too.”

“You know I don’t need to,” John said sweetly. “But I will. Come home soon.”

Brian smiled. “Soon as we can, lovely, soon as we can. Don’t forget to call if you need anything.”

John laughed. “I’ll remember, I promise. Now go on, before you’re late.”

Brian gave John one last tender smile before leaving the bedroom, pulling on his jacket while Freddie waited patiently by the door.

“Ready, darling?” he asked when Brian had wrapped his rainbow scarf around his neck.

Brian held the door open with a flourish. “After you, dearest.”

Brian followed Freddie out and locked the door behind them, feeling a pang of guilt as he did. He wished they could stay and take care of their boyfriends; it felt wrong to be leaving them to fend for themselves for half the day. Freddie felt the worry and guilt coming off Brian in waves and took his hand as they walked down to the lobby of their apartment building.

“They’ll be perfectly fine without us, Bri,” Freddie said gently. “No need to fuss.”

“I know,” Brian said with a sigh. He adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “I just feel bad leaving them. What if they get worse? What if they need something and don’t call?”

“They will,” Freddie said, pushing the lobby door open and sucking in a breath at the freezing morning air that met them. “Not - I mean, they won’t get worse, but they will call if they need something. And if you’re that worried about them, call after a few hours and check up on them.”

They walked together down the sidewalk towards Imperial College London’s campus, which was only a few minute’s walk from their flat they rented in Courtfield Gardens. John had always said it was rather romantic they lived somewhere that sounded so stately and royal; though the little flat they could afford hardly felt either, they all smiled when John would talk about Courtfield Gardens in his most posh voice like they might invite the Duchess for tea one afternoon. Mercifully the snow had been shoveled off the sidewalks so they didn’t have to slog through it, but the air was still bitter cold as the sun peeked above the roof of the buildings lining the street.

“Lovely and brisk, isn’t it?” Freddie said, a smile on his face.

Brian gave a short laugh. “Little cold for me, but at least it’s not snowing.”

Though the street was quiet this time of morning, there was a young man coming out onto his front steps further up the street; Freddie pulled his hand from Brian’s and didn’t look up at him, a fierce blush coloring his cheeks.

“Sorry,” Freddie said quietly. He still didn’t meet Brian’s eyes, keeping his gaze on his snow-dusted shoes.

Brian just sighed and stuck his hand in his pocket. He knew as well as Freddie did that two men walking down the street hand in hand was an open invitation for insults and jeers - or worse, as they knew from experience, physical violence - but Brian had never quite managed to go without feeling a little hurt every time one of his boyfriends’ hands slipped from his. He knew it wasn’t personal - his boyfriends would happily show the whole world they loved him if they could - but it made the cold of the morning just a little more biting as he walked beside Freddie as if they were no more than mates.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Brian said after a moment. “You know you don’t. Not ever.”

Freddie shook his head. “Yes, I do. I just snatched my hand out of yours because of some bloke on the other side of the road. I feel awful every time I do something like that, to any of you.”

Brian nudged his shoulder against Freddie’s. “Hey, it’s alright. I know you love me, and you know I love you. Even if I can’t just stop in the middle of the street and kiss you senseless in front of all of London like I want to.”

Freddie couldn’t help a smile and did meet Brian’s eyes then, a mix of sadness and affection there that mirrored what Brian felt.

“Kiss me senseless, eh? You sure you’re up to it?”

Brian laughed. “I know I am. I’ll prove it to you when we get home. Or maybe I’ll drag you into a broom closet at the university.”

Freddie’s laugh was musical in the cold air. “I bet you would, darling. But that’s yours and John’s thing, I’m much too averse to school in general to have a tête-à-tête on campus.”

“Maybe I’ll come by Kensington then,” Brian teased. “You can sneak me behind the clothes racks.” Brian knew Freddie and Roger had done just that more than once, one time having witnessed them emerging from behind the racks of mismatched clothes all flushed and giggly when he came to walk them home. It was always a risk to do things like that outside the safety of their own home, and they hadn’t managed a lover’s tryst between the four of them yet, but how could they resist each other? They loved each other, risks be damned, and in rare moments that allowed them to overcome the fear they felt at being together when others could see.

Brian took Freddie’s hand again before the older man could protest, twining their fingers together. Freddie looked up at him in surprise.

“If anyone asks, I’m blind, and you’re making sure I don’t run into things,” Brian said with a cheeky smile.

Freddie relaxed a bit and gave Brian a smile. “You’re incorrigible, Brian May.”

They walked hand in hand until they reached Imperial’s Department of Physics, a grand old building that was practically Brian’s second home. A handful of faculty and students were milling about; it was still early for the majority of people. Freddie tipped up his face and gave Brian a sweet smile.

“Learn lots, my darling,” he said, as he always did.

Brian smiled. “I’ll try.” He squeezed Freddie’s hand before letting it go. “Have a good day at work.”

“I’ll do my best,” Freddie said. “Check up on the boys if you feel yourself getting worried about them. They’ll love to hear from you anyways. It’ll cheer them up a bit.”

“I will,” Brian promised. “You’ll be by around lunch? I might be in a meeting with an advisor.”

“Don’t worry about me, darling,” Freddie said. “I’ll amuse myself with some thousand-page tome on stars in your office, if need be.”

Brian smiled. “If you say so. I’ll see you later, then.” He pressed his fingers to his lips in a muted gesture of blowing Freddie a kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you,” Freddie said gently. He stuck his hands in his pockets and turned to go, wishing Brian would walk the rest of the way to Kensington Market with him, or that he had Roger coming with him to work. 

It was unusual for both Freddie and Brian to be parting ways on their own. Brian missed John by his side as he pushed through the doors of the Department of Physics building, telling him excitedly about the new project he was working on in the tech department; Freddie missed Roger walking to work with him, bumping into him almost relentlessly to make up for not being able to hold hands. They both consoled themselves with the thought that it would only be a few hours before they saw their boyfriends again, and they both knew they wouldn’t hold back in lavishing all the attention they’d missed this morning on the men they loved more than anything else in the world.

Read part three!

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[theafrodeity]

Church Belles - Part 3

I glanced at the chrome clock on the wall once again. Only five minutes had gone by since the last time I had checked. Why does time move so slowly when you’re not having fun? Also why did we still have clocks with Roman numerals which delayed how long it took your brain to process time by at least another 2 seconds. The sheer irony of it all! I shifted around in my seat and grunted audibly. Ok, maybe I needed to calm down. “Sena, was there something you wanted to add to that?” Oko raised his bushy eyebrows at me. “No, I think we’ve gone over all our concerns. I’ll draft a letter of agreement and send it over to you by Friday.” My response was shrill as I tried to hide my impatience and irritation. “Sounds wonderful! Me daa se[1].” Mrs. Koranteng beamed, slamming her red talon-like acrylic nails on the conference room table. “Ok, let’s go over their sales numbers again so I can be sure I understand it.” It took all of my will power not to roll my eyes.

Had it been any other day, I would have been thrilled to be in Mrs. Koranteng’s presence. She was such a powerful force in Ghanaian second-hand goods trade, president of the Makola Market Women’s Association, and the main distributor of most household brands in the country. Her diamond rings almost blinded us as the rays of sunlight reflected off of them. Everything about this woman glistened and screamed opulence, from the stone beads bordering her gigantic kaba[2] sleeves, right down to her white teeth which contrasted her smooth glowy dark skin each time she gave me that wide I-have-fuck-you-money grin. Our most valued client, no doubt, and I was impressed by how quickly she had turned her inheritance from her late husband into a fortune at 42 years. Her constant show of affection and warmth masked how meticulous and ruthless she could be in negotiations. Growing up in the busy streets of Kumasi had toughened her up into becoming a master haggler. Her hands were slightly callused, perhaps remnants from an early farm life. Still she was comfortable with patiently letting the experts talk in circles before interjecting with tough questions or a final well thought out plan.

Today’s meeting was no exception. We were providing legal counsel for a new chain of supermarkets Mrs. Koranteng’s company, GyeNyame[3] Inc was acquiring and had presented a very detailed proposal. However, I quickly realized that this meeting might drag on longer than expected since Mrs. Koranteng  did not want to spend a single pesewa[4] above what she considered to be a fair price. Then suddenly she glanced at her phone, smiled to herself and changed her mind. “Actually, I have to leave now but let’s schedule another meeting soon. I’ll review them with my accountant tomorrow. Thank you so much Mr. Quartey and Ms. Kondoh.” I could have hugged her in that moment but instead Oko and I shook hands with her and walked her to her Porsche. On the way back we speculated about whether the message on her phone had been from the young actor she was rumored to have been dating. Oko was a cool boss; very down-to-earth with a calm confidence. If he weren’t already married, we could have made a great couple because there was such an ease with our conversations and we rarely ever disagreed about anything. I glanced at my phone and noticed 5 missed calls from Carla. I was late for our bi-weekly nail appointment so I said goodbye to Oko and dashed down the hallway to head out to lunch.

Thirty minutes later, warm bubbles were caressing my feet and Akua the owner of Luxury Nails & Spa was diligently filing my finger nails. “You can’t keep me in suspense any longer. What happened?!”. Carla’s dramatic tone made me chuckle. She was sitting in the chair next to me. Her curly hair was cropped low and dyed blonde. She was wearing a loose colourful graffiti t-shirt which hugged her bra-less C-cup bosom, over ripped jeans shorts. For a second, I let the envy wash over me as I glanced down at my crisp white long-sleeved shirt and grey pleated skirt. Carla sold decorative pieces and modern African print clothing at the Art Centre and sang at the Jubilee Jazz bar to an audience of wealthy politicians on weekends for a living. She was able to afford a nice home and got to wear whatever she wanted during the week, while I worked 60-hour weeks in a skirt suit and still lived with my parents. However, I felt fortunate to still have one of my childhood best friends to hang out with routinely. Like the dating scene in Accra over the age of 30, female friends were also slim pickings as they all disappeared into domestic life after marriage. Somehow, fun edgy Carla insisted that she was living vicariously through me and kept pestering me for details about my date with Fiifi.

“What do you want me to say? We had a nice dinner and some wine and talked about life.” I avoided her eyes.

“Girl! I wanna hear about dessert though!” I burst out laughing at her ridiculous imitation of an African American accent.

Chills cut through my belly, the kind you got on a roller coaster ride, as flashes of the night before came back to me. I was hunched over the back of the sofa and my black dress had ridden up above my waist. Fiifi paused for what felt like a lifetime behind me before pulling my panties to the side and holding on to them like an equestrian gripping on to the reins of a prized thoroughbred. He whistled at the sight of my naked derrière and I felt a cool breeze against my exposed skin. Without warning he grabbed my waist and pushed up against me. The delicious pain shot through my abdomen, my thighs, then down my leg as I felt the first short thrusts. He started off with a slow rhythm, then gradually picked up speed until he was slamming into me. The clash of my wetness and wobbling behind against his muscular thighs created a slurping slapping melody that drove us both wild. “Please” I whispered urgently through gritted teeth. I wasn’t sure what my pleas were for but he seemed to understand because he smacked my ass in response and it sent fresh ripples of ecstasy through my body. He let go of my waist and gathered my braids into a pony tail pulling them towards him and arching my back. I screamed as the thrusts got deeper and felt a little ball of fire growing in my stomach causing me to hungrily push back against him. My vaginal walls instinctively clenched around his throbbing member trying to absorb every ounce of sensation from each movement. Out of nowhere he stopped and bent over to kiss me. I moaned and kissed him back hungrily.

“Seriously, you’re not gonna tell me?” Carla was jabbing at my shoulder now, snapping me out of my reverie. Akua had stopped filing my nails now and was waiting to hear my response too. “Fine, we might have made out a little bit.” I conceded, still flustered. Akua returned to her filing, evidently bored.

“Sena!! You’re so bad. You guys are like a thing now. When’s the wedding?”

“Hehehe. Oh we’re taking things slow. He literally just got divorced.”

“Good point. Things could get complicated. I think you should just try and have fun. You’re always so uptight.”

“Here we go again. Not all of us have sugar daddies sponsoring us low key.” I teased, knowing full well that Carla preferred women. Still she had gotten pregnant five years ago with a former minister who helped set up her shop.

“I wish! I get a few tips here and there but Amina is starting kindergarten soon and that means I need to step it up and make some more money.”

“Wow, she’s grown up so fast. Are you going to reach out to Jessica?”

Jessica, Carla and I had been dorm mates at St. Maria’s High School. Jessica had always intimidated me with how strictly she adhered to the school rules and how often she would scold Carla and I for being late to mass or for not making our beds before class when she was appointed school prefect. Somehow, she and Carla had gotten along fabulously even though Carla was the biggest deviant in our class. 

One night I had snuck out of class during prep time, our mandatory night study session, to take a nap in our dorm room. Light sucking sounds greeted me in the darkness as soon as I opened the door - the silhouette of two young women rolling around on Carla’s bed playing out before me. Jessica and Carla panicked when I let out a cough thinking it was our house mistress. They later begged me not to tell a single soul and I had remained tight-lipped for over a decade. Nevertheless, Jessica had never forgiven me for walking in on them and had only grown more distant over the years as if it were somehow my fault for discovering their secret.

“She’s Sister Jessica now, don’t forget.” Carla corrected me. “Yes, I have an interview with her on Friday. Wanna come with? I might need backup.”

“Err…ok. If you insist.  I’m still not sure why even you need to go through an interview process to enrol your child.” Carla knew Jessica and I didn’t quite get along. We had even less in common now that she was a nun and the headmistress of a catholic preparatory school.

“Oh I think it’s just a formality. Any excuse to see me, I guess.” Carla and I both giggled knowingly.

[1] Means Thank you in Akan.

[2] A festive traditional blouse for women

[3] A popular saying meaning “Except with God”, a longer translation meaning something can only be accomplished with God’s help

[4] Lower unit of Ghanaian currency, no longer in use.

[magicandmettle]

Magic and Mettle

Chapter 1

Towards a Better Day

 The skeletal figure huddled in the shadows, his stiff feet turning blue. With the cold brick wall pressed against his back, he peeked out of the crook of his arm and looked at the sky.  He was worrying if there would be frost in the morning.  Not the mild frost that you find on your lawn on a cold morning that melts at the sign of light.  No, this frost is a weird phenomenon where the air will grow so frigid and still that the water in the air collects together on everything and creates little ice blossoms, glazing everything white.  Nobody goes outside around eight thirty because that’s where the sun is just at the right angle to make the crystal icicles sparkle and blind everyone stupid.  After that, the infamous heat of Arrodagona would come flooding back.  Then it was “The Slosh” for about three days, and then the “Unbearable-Heat-Why-Do-We-Live-Here-and-How-Do-We-Survive” for the rest of the cycle.  Frost was fine during the day, but at night, if you had to sleep outside (because you were homeless like a certain someone), it could… be deadly.  There had been a lot of cold winds and rain recently, so maybe it was too much for the paper-thin ice decorations to appear. Maybe he wouldn’t freeze to death. He watched his slow breaths come out as tiny clouds, interested by how the light of the moon hit it.  He was in a lot of trouble if it frosted.  A few years on the streets teaches you how to prepare for the seasons coming, but it also told you not to prepare too much.  Things could happen to your bed and meagre food supply and the other odds and ends you “collected”, and it was always sudden.  He just happened to have a particularly bad autumn and… things were looking grim.  His feet already felt like they were going to drop off from the cold.

His name was Todd.  Todd Worthington, but he wasn’t sure what the last name meant anymore.  He must be seventeen now, he thought.  Lack of a calendar or a clock made his life seem to mesh, with time being a thing that would flit about your ears once you remembered it.  But there were always days that stood out once a year, something celebratory, something that donned the twisted streets in bright lights at night and mornings did the job of painting the stones a more colourful tone of grey.  One of those days was a day where the town relished in its gothic structures and bleak colours, and decorated it in streaks of red, orange, green and purple.  It was A Hunting Witches Day.  Of course, there wasn’t ACTUAL hunting; that’d be far too dangerous.  It was just a certain day where everyone dressed up like they were going hunting or were going to be hunted and the kids went around gathering food for their ‘families’ (their own mouths) from houses. Todd didn’t really know the specifics further than “dress weirdly and grab free food”.  It was the “free food” part he liked most; took half the job out of begging and he didn’t have to resort to stealing.

Of course he had to act the part on those nights and not look homeless, so he’d always rummage through the bins of the art shop the night before and find tubes of crumpled black and white paint.  With these miserable things, he was able to squirt out just enough to smear on his face a crude skull.  It wasn’t that hard, painting on the bones; his own showed through quite well.  The rags he wore used to be fine clothing, but years on the street had withered them away and hung off his body as it would a skeleton, so he was kind of half in costume all the time.  

Since he had… run away, he had counted five A Hunting Witches Days. Five since he was twelve, so he HAD to be seventeen, soon to be eighteen in a couple weeks.  Unless somehow he’d missed a day, which wasn’t at all possible, there was free food, no force on earth could stop him from getting in on that.

He looked down at his bare feet; one of his toes had started to turn purple. He leaned down, his nest of newspapers crinkling, and rubbed his cold foot with his cold hand, trying to create some friction for warmth.  Rubbing the bare skin reminded him with some misery of how they had been wrapped in actual shoes once.  He didn’t dare try going into a shoe shop and stealing a cheap pair. He was terrible at thieving – something told him it was wrong to steal from people who were just trying to live themselves.  What if he accidentally stole an item that belonged to a dead dear relative or something? And the constant presence of vigilant, strong, fast moving guards didn’t at all have any effect on his morals.

On the verge of drifting to sleep, his nose runny and red and his throat burning, he heard a group coming near the alley way he was in.  He recognised their voices – he’d seen them around town plenty of times.  They were the kind of boys that had baby brains on bodies of brawn.  You didn’t have to wait and see what they would say or do so you could pass judgement; all you had to do was LOOK at them, and, judgement passed.  Punch them.

Of course, if Todd tried that, his hand would probably break with his twig arm so he nestled further into the newspapers and waited for them to pass by.  

“HAHAHA! Did you really do that?!” one of the boys exclaimed with far too much enthusiasm.  A guffaw replied, followed by “Yep! Pushed her into the river’n’ everything!  She practically ran home crying!” and it took Todd a moment to realise that the noises being made was laughter, not tongues being hung out with whatever noises that arrived unleashed.  

Todd began to feel peculiar.  His skin had begun to prickle (more than the cold had done to it) and it felt like… almost like he was in a spotlight.  He peeked out.  There wasn’t any light in this alley.  There was the shine of the streetlamp at the end from the other side of the road but other than that, it was deserted.  Why did he feel like someone had just pulled the curtain on him while he was in the shower? Frowning, he got up, shuffled the newspapers, covered his toes, brought in his knees and laid down.

 ‘…’

He poked his head out.

‘Seriously who’s there.’

 Outside near the streetlamp a figure stood still in the shadows, watching the group with a keen eye.  She observed them as they paused outside the alley way she had just been about to pop into.

Todd peeked at the silhouettes.  ‘Oh no, why are they outside?’ Todd whined. ‘Don’t stop there, don’t stop thereNO DON’T COME DOWN THIS WAY-’

“Oi look at this,” a figure sneered, holding a lantern.  Todd was staring straight at him but had no idea if the boy was looking at him or the pile of newspapers.  

“Yeah, that Jon, is what we call a pile o’ newspapers,” another figure answered dubiously.  Who was that? Was that the guy with the mullet?

“Nah, there’s somebody innit,” Jon seethed with a grin and viciously kicked at the pile.  They splayed and flew away, showing Todd’s shins and the game was up. He sat up, shielding his eyes from the light.

“Looks like we have a bit of a homeless beggar here guys!” Jon jeered. The others laughed.  There were about six of them.  

“Ahh, c’mon, leave him alone,” Stupid-Mullet shrugged.  “What’s he gonna do?”  Todd thought maybe he should come up with a nicer name than Stupid-Mullet; the group ignored Mullet-Boy however.  Jon leaned down on his knees.  “What’s your name?” the teenager asked.  If sarcasm were a talent, he needed more practice.  Todd squinted at him like he couldn’t actually believe they were bullying him.    

“What’s wrong, don’t have a home to go to?  Nowhere to sleep? Why aren’t you answering? Can’t you talk?” another gang member teased in a baby voice, coming in closer.  He paused.  

“Hey wait, I recognise this guy,” he said.  “He tried to steal money from my dad’s shop!”

Ah yes, he had attempted to take two lents from a business that was doing ok. How dare he.  Of course, had he known that the owner was related in some way to this group, well…

He would’ve tried to take the whole damn draw.

“He did?” Jon whipped around.  “He did!” he practically squealed.  “Well! I reckon we should call the guards on him then!”

“Oh, but it’s the middle of the night Jon.  They’ll be so tired.  We should do the job for them!” the Business-Owner’s-Son grinned something slimy.

“Right you are!” shrieked Jon.  He actually shrieked.  Todd was feeling really uneasy now.  Something was wrong with this Jon person and the group acted like they were egging him on so they could watch a show.  It was like they’d done this thing before, where poor old Jon was manipulated and sniggered at behind hands but scary enough not to outright bully.  He tried to shuffle away, though it felt a bit late.

“Let’s start with the confession,” Jon shouted and moved in like a blur.  His foot connected viciously with Todd’s ribs and he let out a yelp, turning into the brick wall.  He lay there, sprawled, winded and reeling as the group behind him hollered.

“Ew – I think I heard a crunch when I kicked him.  Did I break his ribs?”  The teenager came closer and pushed his foot into the same spot he had kicked him; he let out a painful groan.  

“Hey look! He made a sound! Maybe if we keep hitting him, we’ll get him to say a few words?”

There was laughter and someone yelled “Get’im Jon!”  

‘Oh please, please just leave me alone…’ Todd pleaded and closed his eyes, tears welling.

 “Hullo!” came a cheery voice.  Surprise tapped everybody’s shoulders.  The group turned as one, silence as thick as ice, and even Todd peeked out.  Jon had been closest to the greeter and leapt back from the beaming light at head height.

“…what is that…?” Mullet Boy breathed (but Todd was thinking of Stupid-Mullet again because Stupid-Mullet had been egging on the assault as well). Jon waved the lantern in desperation, trying to see the figure in the light but not get close.  He must have seen them, because he gasped.  

“It’s a… it’s a freak.  It’s a freak!” his voice going from hoarse to terrified.  He backed up and the rest of the group followed.

“W…WIIIITC-!” A fist shot out and punched him before he could finish his scream.  Jon dropped the lantern and clutched his bleeding nose.  It clattered to the ground and rolled towards the eyes, coming beneath a boot.

“Let’s see how you boys fare,” and her eyes pierced into theirs, “without the light.” And she crushed it.  Darkness was immediate and blinding.  Shrieks rang out and sounds of thumping, scrabbling feet, curses, crying (probably Jon) and a heck of a lot of running fired up the air. Todd had no idea what was happening in the pitch black but the pain from his broken ribs made it hard for him to think. What should he do?  Should he run?  Well if he could have, he would have done it when the gang had stood outside the alley.  He couldn’t feel his feet, and now he had an injury he could probably die from.  No, the best thing to do was to nestle back into the newspapers and hope by The Five that this stranger was rescuing him intentionally.  Maybe she would leave, and the group would leave, and he could go back to sleep.  Then tomorrow he’d go see the doctor and get it all sorted out, and he’d be fine.

He smiled, trying hard not to cry.  It’s awfully low when you’ve only got yourself to lie to.  

He noticed it had gone quiet.  There was a haze of light that picked out the shapes of a couple fallen figures on the ground.  It looked like a spotlight, and it was searching for something.  He tried backing up to the wall but a flare of fire from his ribs made him yelp again and the spotlight whipped around, the pair of glowing eyes resting on him.  He froze, winced and clutched his side, tried to freeze, winced again and fell down, wincing. Then froze successfully.  He looked at the eyes, not knowing what to do. The eyes stared back, all features of the face that held them blacked out.  They lowered themselves, the person kneeling from a distance.

“…uuugggh, hello.” Todd could barely make out the waggling fingers.  “Do, do you need… help…?”  She sounded uncertain. Of course he needed help, did he look to be in any position to offer a cuppa?!  That’s what he would’ve said; instead it came out as a gurgle of phlegm and probably blood. She looked quite strange, though he couldn’t place his finger on it.  A hood shadowed her face, and a warm looking coat with tattered tails at its ends pooled beneath her.  He couldn’t see much else in the dark but it looked like she wore pants and some boots.

“…beg your pard’n?”

Gurgling was all this person was going to get.

“…I’m gonna take that look as a yes.  Correct me if I’m wrong.”

A rasp this time.

“Ok.  Definite yes. Two rules though.  You’re not t’ try and kill me – that’s rule one.  Very important.  I will not hesitate t’punch ya.  Rule two - do not yell for the Skinna’s.  I will put you in th’ nearest bin.”

…maybe he shouldn’t go with this person.  She just threatened him like he was a possible threat.  And sounded like she meant it!  Plus, she had a weird accent; weird accents were not to be trusted.

“Wheeze if y’understood.”

He gave up.  He wheezed.

“Ok.  Good choice.”

She snaked her arms under his torso and legs and with surprising ease, lifted him up and continued to blindly walk through the darkened alley.  She crept right out through to the exit, not pausing when she stood on a hand on one of the unconscious gang members.   He snorted, and decided not to do that again.  That hurt.  Everything hurt.  Wow he was in bad shape; he was freezing, he couldn’t feel his feet, his throat was so sore it hurt to swallow, his ribs were an aching mess of pain, he felt dizzy and sweaty and desperately needed a drink. He was starting to lose it.  He felt the rhythm of the stranger’s body as they walked, and he tucked his head in, feeding off her warmth.  He didn't know this girl and had no idea what she was going to do with him now, but… he felt safe.  

“So, uh, do you havdasfgghjk…” her voice trailed off and he slipped.

 ~          ~        ~

 “So, uh, d’you have a place t’ stay or -” she cut herself off when she looked down at the boy in the pale light of the streetlamp.  Dead as a doornail.  

“Oh gosh please don’t actually be dead- ok, no, you still have a heartbeat, good good good.” She clucked, and started again down the dim street, careful as she walked on the wet stone.  She passed under another streetlamp, its amber light illuminating the green skin beneath her hat.

Usually she would stay out of the affairs of humans – frankly because they scared her a bit.  Violent things they were, and quite hateful towards herself too.  But she guessed that seeing this boy so weak and helpless – something had tugged at her.  And if even his own kind were to treat him with such vulgarity, then who was left to lend him a hand?  Well, seeing as she seemed to be the only one around who didn’t want him dead, she guessed that was her.  Oh boy she hoped she hadn’t gotten herself into anything.

She had visited this town before – quite a lot, incidentally.  The M.M.E.O (Misuse of Magic Eradicators Organisation) guards were lazy around here, which ironically meant that it was the safest town for her to enter.  Not one person was seen waltzing down the streets of Winkasta with their head held high. Everyone kept to themselves and if anyone was seen with their head higher than their shoulders they needed to get over themselves.  At least, that was the attitude.  It was a bit odd how a group, part of an organisation that was in direct service to the King of Arrodagona - who was quite vehement about the proper use of magic - could slack off like pigs in the mud.  Perhaps it was because of how far out this town was from the kingdom?  

The witches’ thoughts shattered the moment she caught sight of movement up ahead.  She pounced into the shadows, ducking to conceal herself as a blue cloaked figure hurried on past.  She watched the retreating back before stepping out into the light of the moon again.  

‘Right.  I’ve gotta get this boy t’ the authorities.  Leave ‘im on the doorstep or something…’ she mused, looking at the boy’s face and faltered.  He seemed to have plastered on a sombre expression, even in unconsciousness, as if in sleep his worries still weighed him down.  It was the face of utter loneliness and misery, a face that nobody had taken the time to care for.  There was that tugging again.  A slow breath throttled his throat.  She frowned. “…You’re inna lot of trouble aren’t you?”

She quickened her pace.  She had to get him to some help and fast.  An itchy chest with broken ribs is like smothering yourself in honey and going “I’ll be fine!” as you barrel into an ant nest.  A really big one.  

The boy kept waking in moments of discomfort, his eyes fluttering before his vision darkened again.  His brain had no idea whether to alert him to the pain or spare him from it.  She’d run, only if it meant she could be guaranteed that she wouldn’t alert the Green Skinners; a special kind of… soldier.  As it was, she crept along and peeked out around the corner.  Her eyes widened in the split second it took her to dart back.  She nestled herself in some shade from the moon and repeated a spell in her head, over and over again, her movements like a statue.  She only stopped once the Green Skinners had disappeared down the street.  

Heart pounding, she went the opposite way and power walked.

 *BANG BANG BANG*

Thatcher’s eyes flew open at the disturbance, the noise ringing in his big ears. He did not want to get out of bed, no he did not.  So what if he was the only competent doctor around?  It’s midnight!  …

Somebody had better be in trouble.  He swore if it was Ms Bahlinger again with her son…  A moment passed and he leapt up, concern replacing drowsiness as he raced downstairs and to the door, grabbing his dressing gown and pulling it on. He opened the door to two figures slumped on the step, one unconscious and the other looking at him with worried eyes.

“Help me,” she pleaded.

 The boy’s head swam as he tried to stay awake.

“Murrid what on arth-”

“Please… lot of trouble…if I stay out here long…”

He felt big soft arms encompass him, guiding him in his delirium.  It was so hard to stay awake.  He could hear their whispered conversation… that girl and…

“Nae, they’re too bright! Use a candle…”

“… woh’ happened?’

“…boys, y’know the Lake Green lot? ...saw me.  Won’t be long… tell some Skinna’s I’m about.”

He vaguely felt he was on a cushioned table.

“Wake up?”

“...I was defendin’ myself.”

“Ye were also finally teaching them a lehss’n.”

Snickering.  The… doctor…? Spoke in a thick accent, the R’s rolled harder than a stone down a hill.  There were too many accents tonight.  He could make out that much, and that he had been here too long.  Hadn’t he.  Had he?  How long had he been here?  How could he have spent the entire night here?  How was it morning?  He tried to talk and only let out a rasp.  Nothing was making sense; he could only get snippets of the situation and string them together like a dream.  He felt so strange and his chest hurt so much.

“He looks like he’s in a lotta pain.  Can you help him?  He’s got broken ribs and I think the flu or something.  An’ his feet are blue.”

“Yes ah’ll be able to help him.  O’ course I can.  Murrid can yoo grab heat salve from the… ”

“He’ll need some…”

“…terrible bruising…”

He felt at some point a gloved hand slip under his right hand and be held up, as if inspected.

“Huh…”

“That a tattoo…?”

“…get a thistle?”

“Here.”

“Thanks, thistle only take a second.”

“Oka- …was that a pun-”

He heard wild giggling and a thwack. Todd gave up trying to stay awake and went back into an exhausted sleep.

 ~          ~          ~

 “Alright, that’s th’ wrapping done.  D’you have any cough medicine?” Murid asked Thatcher.  He rubbed his eyes and yawned, running his hand through his mop of hair.  Murid was used to seeing it all slicked back neatly and the rest of him in a suit with polished shoes; seeing Thatcher all ruffled made her feel all the more like an intruder. It also kind of made her want to snap a picture; she doubted she’d ever see him so dopey and messy again.  ‘I could use it as blackmail’ she thought distantly.

“Ah’ll get it,” he said and pushed himself up from his chair.  

“I’m sorry for waking you up, but you’re the only one I could turn to,” Murid explained when he returned, shoving thoughts away of sabotage.

“Ah noo, yoo did the right thing Murid.  He was in a very bad shape.  If it waern’ for yoo, I think he would have died,” he applauded her and gave a toothy grin. He leaned over and applied the lotion to the boy’s throat.  It gave off the scent of oranges.  “So you don’nae know his name?” Thatcher asked, closing the lid.

“No, I don’t know who he is.  I was tryin’a sneak out of town but the scuffle kind of… happened in front of me… Thatcha I don’t know what to do with him.  I can’t take him with me, he’d be inna worse situation with me than here on the streets,” Murid reasoned.  Thatcher pursed his lips, hands on his hips.  He gave Murid the side eye.

“What?”

His mouth twitched.  Murid became more bewildered.

“What?!”

“Ahh c’mon!  The lad looks about yoor age.  He could be yoor new friend!”  Thatcher put his hands on his knees and squatted to Murid’s level; she tried to stifle her laughter.

“No, he couldn’t.  One, are you actually suggesting that I kidnap a homeless guy?  And two, the minute he finds out I’m a witch he’d run for the hills.”

“He’d have trouble runnin’ with those feet. And yoo’re gonna have t’ pay his medical bill.”

“…I’ll give ya five lents.”  

“Five lents could’nae pay for toothpaste.”  Murid grinned at him and he snickered.  There was a knock on the door.  

Everybody conscious jumped.  The two peeked out the side and to the front door; two silhouettes could be seen, short pointed hats on the figure’s heads.  Thatcher darted back into the medical bay and grabbed two bottles.  “Take him an’ run,” Thatcher whispered and pushed the bottles into her hands.

“But I can’t take him-!”

“If yoo don’t, they’ll get suspicious of how he goh’ here and they’ll find out who I am!  They’re Skinners, Murrid, you ken woh’ they’re like!” He looked into her eyes, fear filling his own.

“But, he’s a… I can’t…! ...OH FINE,” she spluttered.  He briefly wrapped her in a bear hug and let go, exiting the room.  Murid skipped over to the boy and grabbed an arm and leg and hoisted his whole self over her shoulders and he gave a groan in protest.

“Oh shush, you’re fine,” she seethed and tip toed out to the back of the house. She heard the front door open and a sleepy, deep voice against two other clipped ones.  Carefully, carefully, she opened the back door and closed it behind her. With the weight of the boy pressing against her neck, she fled from the garden and over the fence, back into the night. All this running around past her bedtime was starting to get exhausting.

 Out on the street again, her boots clopped on the slippery pavement and echoed. The strange animals of the night called to one another in their wild chorus, becoming louder as she neared the forest.  The trees loomed above the rooftops and into the night sky like a black creature watching in wait at the edge of the small town.  

It was something of a shock, the forest.  One minute you’d be walking through town, the next there’s a rickety fence in your way and you’re wondering why there's a whole forest staring at you. There were many dangerous creatures lurking in the bush that could snatch any passing child or adult like a spider with a fly, and all the council did was put up a ramshackle fence.  It was as if it were there to just trip up the evil creature, rather than actually stop it.

Given the area she was about to enter, Murid contemplated on flying her broom through the dense bush, but decided against it.  The use of that amount of magic would definitely draw bad attention.

Bad attention… she hoped Thatcher was alright.  

Murid repositioned the boy so he lay curled in her arms rather than over her shoulders.  Still he slept.  She squared her shoulders and started walking.

 ~          ~          ~

 ‘Yeah, I should have ridden my broom.’ Murid thought.  This wasn't the first time she had run for her life – heck, considering the technicalities, she’d already run for her life twice tonight.  She just wished it would stop happening.  She guessed she was running for the boy’s life too; after all he was the reason why an enormous monster was hot on her tail.  Her breath rattled like ground pepper in her lungs and she took a chance, glancing back.  The thing galloped on all fours, snorting and drooling, its greasy black hair illuminated by the moonlight.  It squealed and snapped jaws she couldn’t see.  She had been chased by almost every creature in Arrodagona (yes, including cute, small, herbivores) and from what she could tell… she had no idea what this thing was.

Murid shifted her focus back to the blackened path ahead of her, the moonlight just grazing the darkness, like it couldn’t be bothered lighting all the way. She scrunched her eyes shut, praying that she wouldn’t run head first into a tree, and recited the spell in her head. When she opened them her eyes lit up, glowing, brightening the way ahead of her.  At least she could see the trees and the ground now.  She also picked up a small fire burning away a few hundred metres down the track.

‘Ok, nearly there!’ she grinned desperately.    

Had she had her arms free to move, maybe she would have been able to take this beast on.  Granted, she wouldn’t try to face something this big even if she could use her magic; she’d just use it to fly away. She may have been sure of herself in that alley way, but a group of untrained boys who had no idea how to fight was a doddle compared to this thing.  

The ballistic creature inhaled then squealed, catapulting itself towards Murid.   It was her turn to squeal as she ducked down onto her heels, the creature shooting over her head.  It landed, stumbled and hit its head on a boulder.  Murid sprung back on her feet and sprinted, running past the creature before it could reassert itself.  It wasn’t long before it was behind her again, sounding for all of the world like a giant pig.  She ran and she ran and she ran and she fell.  Unable to stop herself she slid down into a ditch, disappearing from sight.  The creature leapt over the ditch and continued to run, thinking that its meal was still ahead.  

Murid stayed in the dark shallow, taking deep gulps of air on her back and gripping the boy in her arms.  Calming her breath as much as she could, she struggled to hear the fading thuds of the creature’s bounds.  It was quiet. Once she could no longer hear it she breathed out, annoyance storming her face.  

“Shiva’s tonight, what was that thing?!” she asked herself.

She counted a few more seconds to be sure everything was safe and then peeked out of hiding.  When the coast was clear, she took a few moments to figure out how to get herself, and her guest, both out of the ditch.  Maybe she should throw him.

……hm, no, they had just healed his bones, no need to hurt them again.  A dark shape caught her attention and it took her a terrified second to realise it was just a giant spider sailing down from a branch above her, not the thing from before.  Unlike everyone else on the planet who would immediately scream and panic, she relaxed.  Oh, it was very venomous; of course it was, it was Arrodagona.  She just whipped out her staff and blasted it with her magic. It sailed through the air, detaching itself from its web and hit a trunk and it scuttled away, petrified.  She caught hold of the hanging web string. “That’ll do,” she grunted, making the awkward climbing-a-rope-of-web-one-handed-up-an-incline escape.  She chucked the boy over the edge (gently) and quickly followed, waving her hand around madly to get the web off it.  Her campfire was just a few metres ahead of her.  All she had to do was walk there.  Simple as that.  

She put a foot forward.  Then another. And then another.  Aaaand, maybe one more.  She grew a little more bold and crept.  Her pointy ears picked up no sound from the surrounding forest; everything had gone... strangely quiet.  Usually the dense foliage filled itself with the strangest, most inhuman sounds made by unknown creatures.  But now it stood with a black hood and robe, and she couldn’t tell whether its back was turned to her or not.  Murid felt her hearts begin to race – she had been in this kind of situation before.

Something was watching her.

Above the pounding of blood in her ears and shaky gulps of breath, she drove on forward.  She kept her knees bent and her back hunched.  Even though the boy in her arms was light – unhealthily so – her arms were beginning to ache; they had been in the same position for too long.

She tried to listen, tried to quieten her erratic breathing, her hearts beating like drums.  She wouldn’t be this wound up if she just had her jolly staff in her hand.  She could see her camp – it was still only a few metres away.  But where had that monster gone off to?

She jumped at the boy taking a guttural breath.  She could worry about him later; right now, something was wrong. This was too easy.  Just a few simple steps to safety, and it didn't feel safe at all.  She listened to every rustle, every snapped twig, to the breeze that played with her hair, the low growl from behind that bush –

Murid dropped her escort, her arm flashing with her spear as the monster sprung towards her.  By pure chance, she had the end pointed at the thing’s chest and it ran itself into the crystal blade and white hot pain ripped down her arm.

She cried out as the sheer force of the falling monster pushed her into the ground.  She landed on her back, the staff propping up the dead beast and she rolled it off of her. Murid spun over and sat up on her knees before the pain overcame her and she scrunched up her face, biting back tears. She gripped her arm as warm, dark sea-green blood slipped between her fingers and spread through the sleeve of her coat, dripping on the ground.  

She got up and tried walking the pain off by power-walking in a circle and chanting “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.”  

She walked over to the beast.  It was dead, thank The Five.  She picked out her staff from its body and looked at her arm in the light of her eyes; the cut didn’t look too bad.  It was bleeding a lot though.  With some alcohol to douse it maybe she wouldn’t contract Crick Joint or any other diseases.  Murid had experienced injuries similar this one before – she would be fine.  She looked back at the creature and her stomach began to twist.  It looked like someone had gotten the torso and arms of a human and merged it with the head and the legs of a wild boar, some kind of horror of magic and medical. The human parts were thick with dark fur, showing hints of skin here and there.  Around its bowed legs it wore crude, sand-coloured pants; across its hairy chest lay an iron chest plate and matching gauntlets on its hands.  

“Thaaaaaaaaaat’s… not normal,” Murid breathed, her skin prickling and her ears popping.  Something strange began to happen, starting from its eyes.  Like a piece of wood turning to charcoal in the heat of a fire, its skin turned black and fell into ash, leaving a bone white skeleton.  A small, blue light ascended from the remains, glowing ever so faint.  It hung there for a second and then was off, soaring into the sky like a tiny shooting star. The thought of moving didn’t occur to Murid for quite a while; she just stood frowning at the sky, her mouth hung open.

“…WHAT?! What, what, what, what-?!  Ow.”  Her face twisted in pain from her wounded arm, the agony flaring. She decided that the best thing to do for now was to get to her camp and go to bed before another wild thing appeared.  Or at least before she bled to death.  Or she left enough blood on the ground to attract more creatures.  So many options…  

She gripped her staff and used it as a walking stick.  She caught sight of the boy, his limp frame laying on the dirt and gravel.  She trudged over to him and looked down on him for a while, head spinning.  She prodded him with her staff.  

“Oi.  Get up.” She ordered.  The boy replied with more rattled breathing.  She looked at her staff, then at the stranger, then back at her staff and groaned at the sky.  Carrying him with magic would be too hard, she would need both her hands for Five’s sake. She clenched her crystal bladed staff and twisted her wrist.  The effects were immediate; her staff turned into smoke and shrunk into her palm and when she opened it, a small marble encased in wood was left, the light fading. Pocketing the milky blue marble, she sighed down at the boy.  

The witch clomped in a tired stupor over to her camp, her arm throbbing like crazy from the weight in her arms.  She passed through the invisible barrier encompassing her camp, separating it from the rest of the forest.  As soon as she was clear, she dropped down on her knees and lost her grip, her charge spilling on the ground.  She yawned and collapsed on the ground next to him, breathing heavily.  

Safe at last.

[muridgreenthumb-blog]

Magic and Mettle Chapter 1

Towards a Better Day

 The skeletal figure huddled in the shadows, his stiff feet turning blue. With the cold brick wall pressed against his back, he peeked out of the crook of his arm and looked at the sky.  He was worrying if there would be frost in the morning.  Not the mild frost that you find on your lawn on a cold morning that melts at the sign of light.  No, this frost is a weird phenomenon where the air will grow so frigid and still that the water in the air collects together on everything and creates little ice blossoms, glazing everything white.  Nobody goes outside around eight thirty because that’s where the sun is just at the right angle to make the crystal icicles sparkle and blind everyone stupid.  After that the infamous heat of Arrodagona would come flooding back.  Then it was “The Slosh” for about three days, and then the “Unbearable-Heat-Why-Do-We-Live-Here-and-How-Do-We-Survive” for the rest of the cycle.  Frost was fine during the day, but at night, if you had to sleep outside (because you were homeless like a certain someone), it could… maybe be deadly. There had been a lot of cold winds and rain recently, so maybe it was too much for the paper-thin ice decorations to appear.  Maybe he wouldn’t freeze to death.  He watched his slow breaths come out as tiny clouds, interested by how the light of the moon hit it.  He was in a lot of trouble if it frosted.  A few years on the streets teaches you how to prepare for the seasons coming, but it also told you not to prepare too much.  Things could happen to your bed and meagre food supply and the other odds and ends you “collected”, and it was always sudden.  He just happened to have a particularly bad autumn and… things were looking grim.  His feet already felt like they were going to drop off from the cold.

 His name was Todd.  Todd Worthington, but he wasn’t sure what the last name meant anymore.  He must be seventeen now, he thought.  Lack of a calendar or a clock made his life seem to mesh, with time being a thing that would flit about your ears once you remembered it.  But there were always days that stood out once a year, something celebratory, something that donned the twisted streets in bright lights at night and mornings did the job of painting the stones a more colourful tone of grey.  One of those days was a day where the town relished in its gothic structures and bleak colours, and decorated it in streaks of red, orange, green and purple.  It was A Hunting Witches Day.  Of course, there wasn’t ACTUAL hunting; that’d be far too dangerous.  It was just a certain day where everyone dressed up like they were going hunting or were going to be hunted and the kids went around gathering food for their ‘families’ (their own mouths) from houses. Todd didn’t really know the specifics further than “dress weirdly and grab free food”.  It was the “free food” part he liked most; took half the job out of begging and he didn’t have to resort to stealing.

Since he had… run away, he had counted five A Hunting Witches Days. Five since he was twelve, so he HAD to be seventeen, soon to be eighteen in a couple weeks.  Unless somehow he’d missed a day, which wasn’t at all possible, there was free food, no force on earth could stop him from getting in on that. Of course he had to act the part on those nights and not look homeless, so he’d always rummage through the bins of the art shop the night before and find tubes of crumpled black and white paint. With these miserable things, he was able to squirt out just enough to smear on his face a crude skull.  It wasn’t that hard, painting on the bones; his own showed through quite well.  The rags he wore used to be fine clothing, but years on the street had withered them away and hung off his body as it would a skeleton, so he was kind of half in costume all the time.

He looked down at his bare feet – one of his toes had started to turn purple. He leaned down, his nest of newspapers crinkling, and rubbed his cold foot with his cold hand, trying to create some friction for warmth.  Rubbing the bare skin reminded him with some misery of how they had been wrapped in actual shoes.  He didn’t dare try going into a shoe shop and stealing a cheap pair. He was terrible at thieving – something told him it was wrong to steal from people who were just trying to live themselves.  What if he accidentally stole an item that belonged to a dead dear relative or something? And the constant presence of vigilant, very fast moving guards didn’t at all have any affect on his morals.

On the verge of drifting to sleep, his nose runny and red and his throat burning, he heard a group coming near the alley way he was in.  He recognised their voices – he’d seen them around town plenty of times.  They were the kind of boys that had baby brains on bodies of brawn.  You didn’t have to wait and see what they would say or do so you could pass judgement; all you had to do was LOOK at them, and, judgement passed.  Punch them.

Of course, if Todd tried that, his hand would probably break with his twig arm so he nestled further into the newspapers and waited for them to pass by.  

“HAHAHA! Did you really do that?!” one of the boys exclaimed with far too much enthusiasm.  Another obnoxious laugh replied, followed by “Yep! Pushed her into the river’n’ everything! She practically ran home crying!” and they all roared.  

Todd began to feel peculiar.  His skin had begun to prickle (more than the cold had done to it) and it felt like… almost like he was in a spotlight.  He peeked out.  There wasn’t any light in this alley.  There was the shine of the streetlamp at the end from the other side of the street but other than that, it was deserted.  Why did he feel like someone had just pulled the curtain on him while he was in the shower?  Frowning, he got up, shuffled the newspapers, covered his toes, brought in his knees and laid down.

 ‘…’

He poked his head out.

‘Ok seriously who’s there.’

Outside near the street lamp a figure stood still in the shadows, watching the group with a keen eye.  She observed them as they paused outside the alley way she had just been about to pop into.

Todd peeked at the silhouettes.  ‘Oh no, why are they outside?’ Todd whined. ‘Don’t stop there, don’t stop thereNO DON’T COME DOWN THIS WAY-’

“Oi look at this,” a figure sneered, holding a lantern.  Todd was staring straight at him but had no idea if the other boy was looking at him or the pile of newspapers.  

“Yeah, that Jon, is what we call a pile o’ newspapers,” another figure answered dubiously.  Who was that? Was that the guy with the mullet?

“Nah, there’s somebody innit,” Jon seethed with a grin and viciously kicked at the pile.  They splayed and flew away, showing Todd’s shins and the game was up.  He sat up, shielding his eyes from the light.

“Looks like we have a bit of a homeless beggar here guys!” Jon jeered. The others laughed.  There were about six of them.  

“Ahh, c’mon, leave him alone,” Stupid-Mullet shrugged.  “What’s he gonna do?”  Todd thought maybe he should come up with a nicer name than Stupid-Mullet; the group ignored Mullet-Boy however.  Jon leaned down on his knees.  “What’s your name?” the teenager asked.  If sarcasm were a talent, he needed more practice.  Todd squinted at him like he couldn’t actually believe they were bullying him.    

“What’s wrong, don’t have a home to go to?  Nowhere to sleep? Why aren’t you answering? Can’t you talk?” another gang member teased in a baby voice, coming in closer.  He paused.  

“Hey wait, I recognise this guy,” he said.  “He tried to steal money from my dad’s shop!”

Ah yes, he had attempted to take two lents for food from a business that was doing ok.  How dare he. Of course, had he known that the owner was related in someway to this group, well…

He would’ve tried to take the whole draw.

“He did?” Jon whipped around.  “He did!” he practically squealed.  “Well! I reckon we should call the guards on him then!”

“Oh, but it’s the middle of the night Jon.  They’ll be so tired.  We should do the job for them!” the Business-Owner’s-Son guffawed.  

“Right you are!” said Jon.  He shrieked that time.  Todd was feeling really uneasy now.  Something was wrong with this Jon person and the group acted like they were egging him on so they could watch a show.  It was like they’d done this thing before, where poor old Jon was manipulated and sniggered at behind hands but scary enough not to outright bully.  He tried to shuffle away, though it felt a bit late.

“Let’s start with the confession,” Jon shouted and moved in like a blur.  His foot connected viciously with his ribs and he let out a yelp, turning into the brick wall.  He lay there, sprawled, winded and wheezing as the group behind him hollered.

“Ew – I think I heard a crunch when I kicked him.  Did I break his ribs?”  The teenager came closer and pushed his foot into the same spot he had kicked him – he let out a painful groan.  

“Hey look! He made a sound! Maybe if we keep hitting him, we’ll get him to say a few words?”

There was laughter and someone yelled “Get’im Jon!”  

‘Oh please, please just leave me alone…’ Todd pleaded and closed his eyes, tears welling.

 “Hullo!” came a cheery voice.  Surprise tapped everyones shoulders.  The group turned as one, silence as thick as ice.  Even Todd peeked out.  Jon had been closest to the greeter and leapt back from the beaming light at head height.

“…what is that…?” Mullet Boy breathed, but Todd was thinking of Stupid-Mullet again because Stupid-Mullet had been egging on the assault as well. Jon waved the lantern in desperation, trying to see the figure in the light but not get close.  He must have seen her, because he gasped.  

“It’s a… it’s a freak.  It’s a freak!” his voice going from hoarse to terrified.  He backed up and the rest of the group followed.

“W…WIIIITC-!” A fist shot out and punched him in the nose before he could finish his scream.  Jon dropped the lantern and clutched his bleeding nose. It clattered to the ground and rolled towards the eyes, coming beneath a boot.

“Let’s see how you boys fare,” and her eyes pierced into theirs, “without the light.” And she crushed it.  Darkness was immediate and blinding.  Shrieks rang out and there was the sounds of thumping, scrabbling feet, curses, crying (probably Jon) and a heck of a lot of running. Todd had no idea what was happening in the pitch black but the pain from his broken ribs made it hard for him to think. What should he do?  Should he run?  Well if he could have, he would have done it when the gang had stood outside the alley.  He couldn’t feel his feet, and now he had an injury he could probably die from.  No, the best thing to do was to nestle back into the newspapers and hope to The Five that this stranger was rescuing him intentionally.  Maybe she would leave, and the group would leave, and he could go back to sleep.  Then tomorrow he’d go see the doctor and get it all sorted out, and he’d be fine.

He smiled, trying hard not to cry.  It’s awfully low when you’ve only got yourself to lie to.  

He noticed it had gone quiet.  There was a haze of light that picked out the shapes of a couple fallen figures on the ground.  It looked like a spotlight, and it was searching for something.  He tried backing up to the wall but a flare of fire from his ribs made him yelp again and the spotlight whipped around, the pair of glowing eyes resting on him.  He froze, winced and clutched his side, tried to freeze, winced again and fell down, wincing. Then froze successfully.  He looked at the eyes, not knowing what to do. The eyes stared back, all features of the face that held them blacked out.  They lowered themselves, the person kneeling from a distance.

“…uuugggh, hello.” Todd could barely make out the waggling fingers.  “Do, do you need… help…?”  She sounded uncertain. Of course he needed help, did he look to be in any position to offer a cuppa tea?!  That’s what he would’ve said; instead it came out as a gurgle of phlegm and probably blood from the ribs.  She looked quite strange, though he couldn’t place his finger on it.  A hood shadowed her face, and a warm looking coat with tattered tails at its ends pooled beneath her.  He couldn’t see much else in the dark but it looked like she wore pants and some boots.

“…beg your pard’n?”

Gurgling was all this person was going to get.

“…I’m gonna take that look as a yes.  Correct me if I’m wrong.”

A rasp this time.

“Ok.  Definite yes. Two rules though.  Your not t’ try and kill me – that’s rule one.  Very important.  I will not hesitate to punch you.  Rule two - do not yell for the Skinna’s.  I will put you in th’ nearest bin.”

…maybe he shouldn’t go with this person.  Maybe he made a horrible mistake, thinking she was sane.  She just threatened him like he was a possible threat.  She sounded like she meant it!  Plus, she had a weird accent; weird accents were not to be trusted.

“Wheeze if y’understood.”

He gave up.  He wheezed.

“Ok.  Good choice.”

She snaked her arms under his torso and legs and with surprising ease, lifted him up and continued to blindly walk through the darkened alley.  She crept right out through to the exit, not pausing when she stood on a hand on one of the unconscious gang members.   He snorted, and decided not to do that again.  That hurt.  Everything hurt.  Wow he was in bad shape; he was freezing, he couldn’t feel his feet, his throat was so sore it hurt to swallow, his ribs were an aching mess of pain, he felt dizzy and sweaty and desperately needed a drink. He was starting to lose it.  He felt the rhythm of the stranger’s body as they walked, and he tucked his head in, feeding off her warmth.  He didn't know this girl and had no idea what she was going to do with him now, but… he felt safe.  

“So, uh, do you havdasfgghjk…” her voice trailed off and he slipped.

 ~          ~        ~

 “So, uh, d’you have a place t’ stay or -” she cut herself off when she looked down at the boy in the pale light of the streetlamp.  Dead as a doornail.  

“Oh gosh please don’t actually be dead- ok, no, you still have a heartbeat, good good good.” She clucked, and started again down the dim street, careful as she walked on the wet stone.  She passed under another streetlamp, its amber light illuminating the green skin beneath her hat.

Usually she would stay out of the affairs of humans – frankly because they scared her a bit.  Violent things they were, and quite hateful towards herself too.  But she guessed that seeing this boy that she held in her arms now so weak and helpless – something had tugged at her.  And if even his own kind were to treat him with such vulgarity, then who was left to lend him a hand?  Well, seeing as she seemed to be the only one around who didn’t want him dead, she guessed that was her.  Oh boy she hoped she hadn’t gotten herself into anything.

She had visited this town before – quite a lot, incidentally.  The M.M.E.O (Misuse of Magic Eradicators Organisation) guards were lazy around here, which ironically meant that it was the safest town for her to enter.  Not one person was seen waltzing down the streets of Winkasta with their head held high. Everyone kept to themselves and if anyone was seen with their head higher than their shoulders they needed to get over themselves.  At least, that was the attitude.  It was a bit odd how a group, part of an organisation that was in direct service to the King of Arrodagona - who was quite vehement about the proper use of magic - could slack off like pigs in the mud.  Perhaps it was because of how far out this town was from the kingdom?  

The witches’ thoughts shattered the moment she caught sight of movement up ahead.  She pounced into the shadows, ducking to conceal herself as a blue cloaked figure hurried on past.  She watched the retreating back before stepping out into the light of the moon again.  

‘Right.  I’ve gotta get this boy t’ the authorities.  Leave ‘im on the doorstep or something…’ she mused, looking at the boy’s face and faltered.  He seemed to have plastered on a sombre expression, even in unconsciousness, as if in sleep his worries still weighed him down.  It was the face of utter loneliness and misery, a face that nobody had taken the time to care for.  There was that tugging again.  A slow breath throttled his throat.  She frowned. “…You’re in a lot of trouble aren’t you?”

She quickened her pace.  She had to get him to some help and fast.  An itchy chest with broken ribs is like smothering yourself in honey and going “I’ll be fine!” as you barrel into an ant nest.  A really big one.  

The boy kept waking in moments of discomfort, his eyes fluttering before his vision darkened again.  His brain had no idea whether to alert him to the pain or spare him from it.  She’d run, only if it meant she could be guaranteed that she wouldn’t alert the Green Skinners; a special kind of… soldier.  As it was, she crept along and peeked out around the corner.  Her eyes widened in the split second it took her to dart back.  She nestled herself in some shade from the moon and repeated a spell in her head, over and over again, her movements like a statue.  She only stopped once the Green Skinners had disappeared down the street.  

Heart pounding, she went the opposite way and power walked.

 *BANG BANG BANG*

Thatcher’s eyes flew open at the disturbance, the noise ringing in his big ears. He did not want to get out of bed, no he did not.  So what if he was the only competent doctor around?  It’s midnight!  …

Somebody had better be in trouble.  He swore if it was Ms Bahlinger again with her son…  A moment passed and he leapt up, concern replacing drowsiness as he raced downstairs and to the door, grabbing his dressing gown and pulling it on. He opened the door to two figures slumped on the step, one unconscious and the other looking at him with worried eyes.

“Help me.” She pleaded.

 The boy’s head swam as he tried to stay awake.

“Murrid what on arth-”

“Please… lot of trouble…if I stay out here long…”

He felt big soft arms encompass him, guiding him in his delirium.  It was so hard to stay awake.  He could hear their whispered conversation… that girl and…

“Nae, they’re too bright! Use a candle…”

“… woh’ happened?’

“…boys, y’know the Lake Green lot? ...saw me.  Won’t be long… tell some Skinna’s I’m about.”

He vaguely felt he was on a cushioned table.

“Wake up?”

“...I was defendin’ myself.”

“Ye were also finally teaching them a lehss’n.”

Snickering.  The… doctor…? Spoke in a thick accent, the R’s rolled harder than a stone down a hill.  There were too many accents tonight.  He could make out that much, and that he had been here too long.  Hadn’t he.  Had he?  How long had he been here?  How could he have spent the entire night here?  How was it morning?  He tried to talk and only let out a rasp.  Nothing was making sense; he could only get snippets of the situation and string them together like a dream.  He felt so strange and his chest hurt so much.

“He looks like he’s in a lotta pain.  Can you help him?  He’s got broken ribs and I think the flu or something.  An’ his feet are blue.”

“Yes ah’ll be able to help him.  O’ course I can.  Murrid can yoo grab heat salve from the… ”

“He’ll need some…”

“…terrible bruising…”

He felt at some point a gloved hand slip under his right hand and be held up, as if inspected.

“Huh…”

“That a tattoo…?”

“…get a thistle?”

“Here.”

“Thanks, thistle only take a second.”

“Oka- …was that a pun-”

He heard wild giggling and a thwack. Todd gave up trying to stay awake and went back into an exhausted sleep.

 ~          ~          ~

 “Alright, that’s th’ wrapping done.  D’you have any cough medicine?” Murid asked Thatcher.  He rubbed his eyes and yawned, running his hand through his mop of hair.  Murid was used to seeing it all slicked back neatly and the rest of him in a suit with polished shoes; seeing Thatcher all ruffled made her feel all the more like an intruder. It also kind of made her want to snap a picture; she doubted she’d ever see him so dopey and messy again.  ‘I could use it as blackmail’ she thought distantly.

“Ah’ll get it,” he said and pushed himself up from his chair.  

“I’m sorry for waking you up, but you’re the only one I could turn to,” Murid explained when he returned, shoving thoughts away of sabotage.

“Ah noo, you did the right thing Murid.  He was in a very bad shape.  If it waern’ for yoo, I think he would have deid,” he applauded her and gave a toothy grin. He leaned over and applied the lotion to the boy’s throat.  It gave off the scent of oranges.  “So you did’nae know his name?” Thatcher asked, closing the lid.

“No, I don’t know who he is.  I was tryin’a sneak out of town but the scuffle kind of… happened in front of me… Thatcha I don’t know what to do with him.  I can’t take him with me, he’d be inna worse situation with me than here on the streets,” Murid reasoned.  Thatcher pursed his lips, hands on his hips.  He looked at Murid from the corner of his eye.

“What?”

His mouth twitched.  Murid became more bewildered.

“What?!”

Thatcher put his hands on his knees and squatted to Murid’s level.

“Ahh c’mon!  The lad looks about yoor age.  He could be yoor new friend!”  She tried to stifle her laughter.

“No, he couldn’t.  One, are you actually suggesting that I kidnap a homeless guy?  And two, the minute he finds out I’m a witch he’d run for the hills.”

“He’d have trouble runnin’ with those feet. And you’re gonnae have t’ pay his maedical bill.”

“…I’ll give ya five lents.”  

“Five lents could’nae pay for toothpaste.”  Murid grinned at him and he snickered.  There was a knock on the door.  

Everybody conscious jumped.  The two peeked out the side and to the front door; two silhouettes could be seen, short pointed hats on the figure’s heads.  Thatcher darted back into the medical bay and grabbed two bottles.  “Tehk him an’ run,” Thatcher whispered and pushed the bottles into her hands.

“But I can’t take him-!”

“If yoo don’t, they’ll get suspicious of how he goh’ here and they’ll find out who I am!  They’re Skinners, Murrid, you ken woh’ they’re like!” He looked into her eyes, fear filling his own.

“But, he’s a… I can’t…! ...OH FINE,” she spluttered.  He briefly wrapped her in a bear hug and let go, exiting the room.  Murid skipped over to the boy and grabbed an arm and leg and hoisted his whole self over her shoulders and he gave a groan in protest.

“Oh shush, you’re fine,” she seethed and tip toed out to the back of the house. She heard the front door open and a sleepy, deep voice against two other clipped ones.  Carefully, carefully, she opened the back door and closed it behind her. With the weight of the boy pressing against her neck, she fled from the garden and over the fence, back into the night. She was starting to feel really tired.

 Out on the street again, her boots clopped on the slippery pavement and echoed. The strange animals of the night called to one another in their wild chorus, becoming louder as she neared the forest.  The trees loomed above the rooftops and into the night sky like a black creature watching in wait at the edge of the small town.  

It was something of a shock, the forest.  One minute you’d be walking through town, the next there’s a rickety fence in your way and you’re wondering why there's a whole forest staring at you. There were many dangerous creatures lurking in the bush that could snatch any passing child or adult like a spider with a fly, and all the council did was put up a ramshackle fence.  It was as if it were there to just trip up the evil creature, rather than actually stop it.

Given the area she was about to enter, Murid contemplated on flying her broom through the dense bush, but decided against it.  The use of that amount of magic would definitely draw bad attention.

Bad attention… she hoped Thatcher was alright.  

Murid repositioned the boy so he lay curled in her arms rather than over her shoulders.  Still he slept.  She squared her shoulders and started walking.

 ~          ~          ~

 ‘Yeah, I should have ridden my broom.’ Murid thought.  This wasn't the first time she had run for her life – heck, considering the technicalities, she’d already run for her life twice tonight.  She just wished it would stop happening.  She guessed she was running for the boy’s life too; after all he was the reason why an enormous monster was hot on her tail.  Her breath rattled like ground pepper in her lungs and she took a chance, glancing back.  The thing galloped on all fours, snorting and drooling, its greasy black hair illuminated by the moonlight.  It squealed and snapped jaws she couldn’t see.  She had been chased by almost every creature in Arrodagona (yes, including cute, small, herbivores) and from what she could tell… she had no idea what this thing was.

Murid shifted her focus back to the blackened path ahead of her, the moonlight just grazing the darkness, like it couldn’t be bothered lighting all the way. She scrunched her eyes shut, praying that she wouldn’t run head first into a tree, and recited the spell in her head. When she opened them her eyes lit up, glowing, brightening the way ahead of her.  At least she could see the trees and the ground now.  She also picked up a small fire burning away a few hundred metres down the track.

‘Ok, nearly there!’ she grinned desperately.    

Had she had her arms free to move, maybe she would have been able to take this beast on.  Granted, she wouldn’t try to face something this big even if she could use her magic; she’d just use it to fly away. She may have been sure of herself in that alley way, but a group of untrained boys who had no idea how to fight was a doddle compared to this thing.  

The ballistic creature inhaled then squealed, catapulting itself towards Murid.   It was her turn to squeal as she ducked down onto her heels, the creature shooting over her head.  It landed, stumbled and hit its head on a boulder.  Murid sprung back on her feet and sprinted, running past the creature before it could reassert itself.  It wasn’t long before it was behind her again, sounding for all of the world like a giant pig.  She ran and she ran and she ran and she fell.  Unable to stop herself she slid down into a ditch, disappearing from sight.  The creature leapt over the ditch and continued to run, thinking that its meal was still ahead.  

Murid stayed in the dark shallow, taking deep gulps of air on her back and gripping the boy in her arms.  Calming her breath as much as she could, she struggled to hear the fading thuds of the creature’s bounds.  It was quiet. Once she could no longer hear it she breathed out, annoyance storming her face.  

“Shiva’s tonight, what was that thing?!” she asked herself.

She counted a few more seconds to be sure everything was safe and then peeked out of hiding.  When the coast was clear, she took a few moments to figure out how to get herself, and her guest, both out of the ditch.  Maybe she should throw him.

……hm, no, they had just healed his bones, no need to hurt them again.  A dark shape caught her attention and it took her a terrified second to realise it was just a giant spider sailing down from a branch above her, not the thing from before.  Unlike everyone else on the planet who would immediately scream and panic, she relaxed.  Oh, it was very venomous; of course it was, it was Arrodagona.  She just whipped out her staff and blasted it with her magic. It sailed through the air, detaching itself from its web and hit a trunk and it scuttled away, petrified.  She caught hold of the hanging web string. “That’ll do,” she grunted, making the awkward climbing-a-rope-of-web-one-handed-up-an-incline escape.  She chucked the boy over the edge (gently) and quickly followed, waving her hand around madly to get the web off it.  Her campfire was just a few metres ahead of her.  All she had to do was walk there.  Simple as that.  

She put a foot forward.  Then another. And then another.  Aaaand, maybe one more.  She grew a little more bold and crept.  Her pointy ears picked up no sound from the surrounding forest; everything had gone... strangely quiet.  Usually the dense foliage filled itself with the strangest, most inhuman sounds made by unknown creatures.  But now it stood with a black hood and robe, and she couldn’t tell whether its back was turned to her or not.  Murid felt her hearts begin to race – she had been in this kind of situation before.

Something was watching her.

Above the pounding of blood in her ears and shaky gulps of breath, she drove on forward.  She kept her knees bent and her back hunched.  Even though the boy in her arms was light – unhealthily so – her arms were beginning to ache; they had been in the same position for too long.

She tried to listen, tried to quieten her erratic breathing, her hearts beating like drums.  She wouldn’t be this wound up if she just had her jolly staff in her hand.  She could see her camp – it was still only a few metres away.  But where had that monster gone off to?

She jumped at the boy taking a guttural breath.  She could worry about him later; right now, something was wrong. This was too easy.  Just a few simple steps to safety, and it didn't feel safe at all.  She listened to every rustle, every snapped twig, to the breeze that played with her hair, the low growl from behind that bush –

Murid dropped her escort, her arm flashing with her spear as the monster sprung towards her.  By pure chance, she had the end pointed at the thing’s chest and it ran itself into the crystal blade and white hot pain ripped down her arm.

She cried out as the sheer force of the falling monster pushed her into the ground.  She landed on her back, the staff propping up the dead beast and she rolled it off of her. Murid spun over and sat up on her knees before the pain overcame her and she scrunched up her face, biting back tears. She gripped her arm as warm, dark sea-green blood slipped between her fingers and spread through the sleeve of her coat, dripping on the ground.  

She got up and tried walking the pain off by power-walking in a circle and chanting “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.”  

She walked over to the beast.  It was dead, thank The Five.  She picked out her staff from its body and looked at her arm in the light of her eyes; the cut didn’t look too bad.  It was bleeding a lot though.  With some alcohol to douse it maybe she wouldn’t contract Crick Joint or any other diseases.  Murid had experienced injuries similar this one before – she would be fine.  She looked back at the creature and her stomach began to twist.  It looked like someone had gotten the torso and arms of a human and merged it with the head and the legs of a wild boar, some kind of horror of magic and medical. The human parts were thick with dark fur, showing hints of skin here and there.  Around its bowed legs it wore crude, sand-coloured pants; across its hairy chest lay an iron chest plate and matching gauntlets on its hands.  

“Thaaaaaaaaaat’s… not normal,” Murid breathed, her skin prickling and her ears popping.  Something strange began to happen, starting from its eyes.  Like a piece of wood turning to charcoal in the heat of a fire, its skin turned black and fell into ash, leaving a bone white skeleton.  A small, blue light ascended from the remains, glowing ever so faint.  It hung there for a second and then was off, soaring into the sky like a tiny shooting star. The thought of moving didn’t occur to Murid for quite a while; she just stood frowning at the sky, her mouth hung open.

“…WHAT?! What, what, what, what-?!  Ow.”  Her face twisted in pain from her wounded arm, the agony flaring. She decided that the best thing to do for now was to get to her camp and go to bed before another wild thing appeared.  Or at least before she bled to death.  Or she left enough blood on the ground to attract more creatures.  So many options…  

She gripped her staff and used it as a walking stick.  She caught sight of the boy, his limp frame laying on the dirt and gravel.  She trudged over to him and looked down on him for a while, head spinning.  She prodded him with her staff.  

“Oi.  Get up.” She ordered.  The boy replied with more rattled breathing.  She looked at her staff, then at the stranger, then back at her staff and groaned at the sky.  Carrying him with magic would be too hard, she would need both her hands for Five’s sake. She clenched her crystal bladed staff and twisted her wrist.  The effects were immediate; her staff turned into smoke and shrunk into her palm and when she opened it, a small marble encased in wood was left, the light fading. Pocketing the milky blue marble, she sighed down at the boy.  

The witch clomped in a tired stupor over to her camp, her arm throbbing like crazy from the weight in her arms.  She passed through the invisible barrier encompassing her camp, separating it from the rest of the forest.  As soon as she was clear, she dropped down on her knees and lost her grip, her charge spilling on the ground.  She yawned and collapsed on the ground next to him, breathing heavily.  

Safe at last.

[maddinup]

Magic and Mettle

This is the first chapter of my novel, Magic and Mettle!  You can come over to my side blog (https://www.tumblr.com/blog/magicandmettle) where I’ll be posting all M&M related stuff, like finished chapters and art. 

Magic and Mettle

  Chapter 1

Towards a Better Day

 The skeletal figure huddled in the shadows, his stiff feet turning blue. With the cold brick wall pressed against his back, he peeked out of the crook of his arm and looked at the sky.  He was worrying if there would be frost in the morning.  Not the mild frost that you find on your lawn on a cold morning that melts at the sign of light.  No, this frost is a weird phenomenon where the air will grow so frigid and still that the water in the air collects together on everything and creates little ice blossoms, glazing everything white.  Nobody goes outside around eight thirty because that’s where the sun is just at the right angle to make the crystal icicles sparkle and blind everyone stupid.  After that the infamous heat of Arrodagona would come flooding back.  Then it was “The Slosh” for about three days, and then the “Unbearable-Heat-Why-Do-We-Live-Here-and-How-Do-We-Survive” for the rest of the cycle.  Frost was fine during the day, but at night, if you had to sleep outside (because you were homeless like a certain someone), it could… maybe be deadly. There had been a lot of cold winds and rain recently, so maybe it was too much for the paper-thin ice decorations to appear.  Maybe he wouldn’t freeze to death.  He watched his slow breaths come out as tiny clouds, interested by how the light of the moon hit it.  He was in a lot of trouble if it frosted.  A few years on the streets teaches you how to prepare for the seasons coming, but it also told you not to prepare too much.  Things could happen to your bed and meagre food supply and the other odds and ends you “collected”, and it was always sudden.  He just happened to have a particularly bad autumn and… things were looking grim.  His feet already felt like they were going to drop off from the cold.

 His name was Todd.  Todd Worthington, but he wasn’t sure what the last name meant anymore.  He must be seventeen now, he thought.  Lack of a calendar or a clock made his life seem to mesh, with time being a thing that would flit about your ears once you remembered it.  But there were always days that stood out once a year, something celebratory, something that donned the twisted streets in bright lights at night and mornings did the job of painting the stones a more colourful tone of grey.  One of those days was a day where the town relished in its gothic structures and bleak colours, and decorated it in streaks of red, orange, green and purple.  It was A Hunting Witches Day.  Of course, there wasn’t ACTUAL hunting; that’d be far too dangerous.  It was just a certain day where everyone dressed up like they were going hunting or were going to be hunted and the kids went around gathering food for their ‘families’ (their own mouths) from houses. Todd didn’t really know the specifics further than “dress weirdly and grab free food”.  It was the “free food” part he liked most; took half the job out of begging and he didn’t have to resort to stealing.

Since he had… run away, he had counted five A Hunting Witches Days. Five since he was twelve, so he HAD to be seventeen, soon to be eighteen in a couple weeks.  Unless somehow he’d missed a day, which wasn’t at all possible, there was free food, no force on earth could stop him from getting in on that. Of course he had to act the part on those nights and not look homeless, so he’d always rummage through the bins of the art shop the night before and find tubes of crumpled black and white paint. With these miserable things, he was able to squirt out just enough to smear on his face a crude skull.  It wasn’t that hard, painting on the bones; his own showed through quite well.  The rags he wore used to be fine clothing, but years on the street had withered them away and hung off his body as it would a skeleton, so he was kind of half in costume all the time.

He looked down at his bare feet – one of his toes had started to turn purple. He leaned down, his nest of newspapers crinkling, and rubbed his cold foot with his cold hand, trying to create some friction for warmth.  Rubbing the bare skin reminded him with some misery of how they had been wrapped in actual shoes.  He didn’t dare try going into a shoe shop and stealing a cheap pair. He was terrible at thieving – something told him it was wrong to steal from people who were just trying to live themselves.  What if he accidentally stole an item that belonged to a dead dear relative or something? And the constant presence of vigilant, very fast moving guards didn’t at all have any affect on his morals.

On the verge of drifting to sleep, his nose runny and red and his throat burning, he heard a group coming near the alley way he was in.  He recognised their voices – he’d seen them around town plenty of times.  They were the kind of boys that had baby brains on bodies of brawn.  You didn’t have to wait and see what they would say or do so you could pass judgement; all you had to do was LOOK at them, and, judgement passed.  Punch them.

Of course, if Todd tried that, his hand would probably break with his twig arm so he nestled further into the newspapers and waited for them to pass by.  

“HAHAHA! Did you really do that?!” one of the boys exclaimed with far too much enthusiasm.  Another obnoxious laugh replied, followed by “Yep! Pushed her into the river’n’ everything! She practically ran home crying!” and they all roared.  

Todd began to feel peculiar.  His skin had begun to prickle (more than the cold had done to it) and it felt like… almost like he was in a spotlight.  He peeked out.  There wasn’t any light in this alley.  There was the shine of the streetlamp at the end from the other side of the street but other than that, it was deserted.  Why did he feel like someone had just pulled the curtain on him while he was in the shower?  Frowning, he got up, shuffled the newspapers, covered his toes, brought in his knees and laid down.

 ‘…’

He poked his head out.

‘Ok seriously who’s there.’

Outside near the street lamp a figure stood still in the shadows, watching the group with a keen eye.  She observed them as they paused outside the alley way she had just been about to pop into.

Todd peeked at the silhouettes.  ‘Oh no, why are they outside?’ Todd whined. ‘Don’t stop there, don’t stop thereNO DON’T COME DOWN THIS WAY-’

“Oi look at this,” a figure sneered, holding a lantern.  Todd was staring straight at him but had no idea if the other boy was looking at him or the pile of newspapers.  

“Yeah, that Jon, is what we call a pile o’ newspapers,” another figure answered dubiously.  Who was that? Was that the guy with the mullet?

“Nah, there’s somebody innit,” Jon seethed with a grin and viciously kicked at the pile.  They splayed and flew away, showing Todd’s shins and the game was up.  He sat up, shielding his eyes from the light.

“Looks like we have a bit of a homeless beggar here guys!” Jon jeered. The others laughed.  There were about six of them.  

“Ahh, c’mon, leave him alone,” Stupid-Mullet shrugged.  “What’s he gonna do?”  Todd thought maybe he should come up with a nicer name than Stupid-Mullet; the group ignored Mullet-Boy however.  Jon leaned down on his knees.  “What’s your name?” the teenager asked.  If sarcasm were a talent, he needed more practice.  Todd squinted at him like he couldn’t actually believe they were bullying him.    

“What’s wrong, don’t have a home to go to?  Nowhere to sleep? Why aren’t you answering? Can’t you talk?” another gang member teased in a baby voice, coming in closer.  He paused.  

“Hey wait, I recognise this guy,” he said.  “He tried to steal money from my dad’s shop!”

Ah yes, he had attempted to take two lents for food from a business that was doing ok.  How dare he. Of course, had he known that the owner was related in someway to this group, well…

He would’ve tried to take the whole draw.

“He did?” Jon whipped around.  “He did!” he practically squealed.  “Well! I reckon we should call the guards on him then!”

“Oh, but it’s the middle of the night Jon.  They’ll be so tired.  We should do the job for them!” the Business-Owner’s-Son guffawed.  

“Right you are!” said Jon.  He shrieked that time.  Todd was feeling really uneasy now.  Something was wrong with this Jon person and the group acted like they were egging him on so they could watch a show.  It was like they’d done this thing before, where poor old Jon was manipulated and sniggered at behind hands but scary enough not to outright bully.  He tried to shuffle away, though it felt a bit late.

“Let’s start with the confession,” Jon shouted and moved in like a blur.  His foot connected viciously with his ribs and he let out a yelp, turning into the brick wall.  He lay there, sprawled, winded and wheezing as the group behind him hollered.

“Ew – I think I heard a crunch when I kicked him.  Did I break his ribs?”  The teenager came closer and pushed his foot into the same spot he had kicked him – he let out a painful groan.  

“Hey look! He made a sound! Maybe if we keep hitting him, we’ll get him to say a few words?”

There was laughter and someone yelled “Get’im Jon!”  

‘Oh please, please just leave me alone…’ Todd pleaded and closed his eyes, tears welling.

 “Hullo!” came a cheery voice.  Surprise tapped everyones shoulders.  The group turned as one, silence as thick as ice.  Even Todd peeked out.  Jon had been closest to the greeter and leapt back from the beaming light at head height.

“…what is that…?” Mullet Boy breathed, but Todd was thinking of Stupid-Mullet again because Stupid-Mullet had been egging on the assault as well. Jon waved the lantern in desperation, trying to see the figure in the light but not get close.  He must have seen her, because he gasped.  

“It’s a… it’s a freak.  It’s a freak!” his voice going from hoarse to terrified.  He backed up and the rest of the group followed.

“W…WIIIITC-!” A fist shot out and punched him in the nose before he could finish his scream.  Jon dropped the lantern and clutched his bleeding nose. It clattered to the ground and rolled towards the eyes, coming beneath a boot.

“Let’s see how you boys fare,” and her eyes pierced into theirs, “without the light.” And she crushed it.  Darkness was immediate and blinding.  Shrieks rang out and there was the sounds of thumping, scrabbling feet, curses, crying (probably Jon) and a heck of a lot of running. Todd had no idea what was happening in the pitch black but the pain from his broken ribs made it hard for him to think. What should he do?  Should he run?  Well if he could have, he would have done it when the gang had stood outside the alley.  He couldn’t feel his feet, and now he had an injury he could probably die from.  No, the best thing to do was to nestle back into the newspapers and hope to The Five that this stranger was rescuing him intentionally.  Maybe she would leave, and the group would leave, and he could go back to sleep.  Then tomorrow he’d go see the doctor and get it all sorted out, and he’d be fine.

He smiled, trying hard not to cry.  It’s awfully low when you’ve only got yourself to lie to.  

He noticed it had gone quiet.  There was a haze of light that picked out the shapes of a couple fallen figures on the ground.  It looked like a spotlight, and it was searching for something.  He tried backing up to the wall but a flare of fire from his ribs made him yelp again and the spotlight whipped around, the pair of glowing eyes resting on him.  He froze, winced and clutched his side, tried to freeze, winced again and fell down, wincing. Then froze successfully.  He looked at the eyes, not knowing what to do. The eyes stared back, all features of the face that held them blacked out.  They lowered themselves, the person kneeling from a distance.

“…uuugggh, hello.” Todd could barely make out the waggling fingers.  “Do, do you need… help…?”  She sounded uncertain. Of course he needed help, did he look to be in any position to offer a cuppa tea?!  That’s what he would’ve said; instead it came out as a gurgle of phlegm and probably blood from the ribs.  She looked quite strange, though he couldn’t place his finger on it.  A hood shadowed her face, and a warm looking coat with tattered tails at its ends pooled beneath her.  He couldn’t see much else in the dark but it looked like she wore pants and some boots.

“…beg your pard’n?”

Gurgling was all this person was going to get.

“…I’m gonna take that look as a yes.  Correct me if I’m wrong.”

A rasp this time.

“Ok.  Definite yes. Two rules though.  Your not t’ try and kill me – that’s rule one.  Very important.  I will not hesitate to punch you.  Rule two - do not yell for the Skinna’s.  I will put you in th’ nearest bin.”

…maybe he shouldn’t go with this person.  Maybe he made a horrible mistake, thinking she was sane.  She just threatened him like he was a possible threat.  She sounded like she meant it!  Plus, she had a weird accent; weird accents were not to be trusted.

“Wheeze if y’understood.”

He gave up.  He wheezed.

“Ok.  Good choice.”

She snaked her arms under his torso and legs and with surprising ease, lifted him up and continued to blindly walk through the darkened alley.  She crept right out through to the exit, not pausing when she stood on a hand on one of the unconscious gang members.   He snorted, and decided not to do that again.  That hurt.  Everything hurt.  Wow he was in bad shape; he was freezing, he couldn’t feel his feet, his throat was so sore it hurt to swallow, his ribs were an aching mess of pain, he felt dizzy and sweaty and desperately needed a drink. He was starting to lose it.  He felt the rhythm of the stranger’s body as they walked, and he tucked his head in, feeding off her warmth.  He didn't know this girl and had no idea what she was going to do with him now, but… he felt safe.  

“So, uh, do you havdasfgghjk…” her voice trailed off and he slipped.

 ~          ~        ~

 “So, uh, d’you have a place t’ stay or -” she cut herself off when she looked down at the boy in the pale light of the streetlamp.  Dead as a doornail.  

“Oh gosh please don’t actually be dead- ok, no, you still have a heartbeat, good good good.” She clucked, and started again down the dim street, careful as she walked on the wet stone.  She passed under another streetlamp, its amber light illuminating the green skin beneath her hat.

Usually she would stay out of the affairs of humans – frankly because they scared her a bit.  Violent things they were, and quite hateful towards herself too.  But she guessed that seeing this boy that she held in her arms now so weak and helpless – something had tugged at her.  And if even his own kind were to treat him with such vulgarity, then who was left to lend him a hand?  Well, seeing as she seemed to be the only one around who didn’t want him dead, she guessed that was her.  Oh boy she hoped she hadn’t gotten herself into anything.

She had visited this town before – quite a lot, incidentally.  The M.M.E.O (Misuse of Magic Eradicators Organisation) guards were lazy around here, which ironically meant that it was the safest town for her to enter.  Not one person was seen waltzing down the streets of Winkasta with their head held high. Everyone kept to themselves and if anyone was seen with their head higher than their shoulders they needed to get over themselves.  At least, that was the attitude.  It was a bit odd how a group, part of an organisation that was in direct service to the King of Arrodagona - who was quite vehement about the proper use of magic - could slack off like pigs in the mud.  Perhaps it was because of how far out this town was from the kingdom?  

The witches’ thoughts shattered the moment she caught sight of movement up ahead.  She pounced into the shadows, ducking to conceal herself as a blue cloaked figure hurried on past.  She watched the retreating back before stepping out into the light of the moon again.  

‘Right.  I’ve gotta get this boy t’ the authorities.  Leave ‘im on the doorstep or something…’ she mused, looking at the boy’s face and faltered.  He seemed to have plastered on a sombre expression, even in unconsciousness, as if in sleep his worries still weighed him down.  It was the face of utter loneliness and misery, a face that nobody had taken the time to care for.  There was that tugging again.  A slow breath throttled his throat.  She frowned. “…You’re in a lot of trouble aren’t you?”

She quickened her pace.  She had to get him to some help and fast.  An itchy chest with broken ribs is like smothering yourself in honey and going “I’ll be fine!” as you barrel into an ant nest.  A really big one.  

The boy kept waking in moments of discomfort, his eyes fluttering before his vision darkened again.  His brain had no idea whether to alert him to the pain or spare him from it.  She’d run, only if it meant she could be guaranteed that she wouldn’t alert the Green Skinners; a special kind of… soldier.  As it was, she crept along and peeked out around the corner.  Her eyes widened in the split second it took her to dart back.  She nestled herself in some shade from the moon and repeated a spell in her head, over and over again, her movements like a statue.  She only stopped once the Green Skinners had disappeared down the street.  

Heart pounding, she went the opposite way and power walked.

 *BANG BANG BANG*

Thatcher’s eyes flew open at the disturbance, the noise ringing in his big ears. He did not want to get out of bed, no he did not.  So what if he was the only competent doctor around?  It’s midnight!  …

Somebody had better be in trouble.  He swore if it was Ms Bahlinger again with her son…  A moment passed and he leapt up, concern replacing drowsiness as he raced downstairs and to the door, grabbing his dressing gown and pulling it on. He opened the door to two figures slumped on the step, one unconscious and the other looking at him with worried eyes.

“Help me.” She pleaded.

 The boy’s head swam as he tried to stay awake.

“Murrid what on arth-”

“Please… lot of trouble…if I stay out here long…”

He felt big soft arms encompass him, guiding him in his delirium.  It was so hard to stay awake.  He could hear their whispered conversation… that girl and…

“Nae, they’re too bright! Use a candle…”

“… woh’ happened?’

“…boys, y’know the Lake Green lot? ...saw me.  Won’t be long… tell some Skinna’s I’m about.”

He vaguely felt he was on a cushioned table.

“Wake up?”

“...I was defendin’ myself.”

“Ye were also finally teaching them a lehss’n.”

Snickering.  The… doctor…? Spoke in a thick accent, the R’s rolled harder than a stone down a hill.  There were too many accents tonight.  He could make out that much, and that he had been here too long.  Hadn’t he.  Had he?  How long had he been here?  How could he have spent the entire night here?  How was it morning?  He tried to talk and only let out a rasp.  Nothing was making sense; he could only get snippets of the situation and string them together like a dream.  He felt so strange and his chest hurt so much.

“He looks like he’s in a lotta pain.  Can you help him?  He’s got broken ribs and I think the flu or something.  An’ his feet are blue.”

“Yes ah’ll be able to help him.  O’ course I can.  Murrid can yoo grab heat salve from the… ”

“He’ll need some…”

“…terrible bruising…”

He felt at some point a gloved hand slip under his right hand and be held up, as if inspected.

“Huh…”

“That a tattoo…?”

“…get a thistle?”

“Here.”

“Thanks, thistle only take a second.”

“Oka- …was that a pun-”

He heard wild giggling and a thwack. Todd gave up trying to stay awake and went back into an exhausted sleep.

 ~          ~          ~

 “Alright, that’s th’ wrapping done.  D’you have any cough medicine?” Murid asked Thatcher.  He rubbed his eyes and yawned, running his hand through his mop of hair.  Murid was used to seeing it all slicked back neatly and the rest of him in a suit with polished shoes; seeing Thatcher all ruffled made her feel all the more like an intruder. It also kind of made her want to snap a picture; she doubted she’d ever see him so dopey and messy again.  ‘I could use it as blackmail’ she thought distantly.

“Ah’ll get it,” he said and pushed himself up from his chair.  

“I’m sorry for waking you up, but you’re the only one I could turn to,” Murid explained when he returned, shoving thoughts away of sabotage.

“Ah noo, you did the right thing Murid.  He was in a very bad shape.  If it waern’ for yoo, I think he would have deid,” he applauded her and gave a toothy grin. He leaned over and applied the lotion to the boy’s throat.  It gave off the scent of oranges.  “So you did’nae know his name?” Thatcher asked, closing the lid.

“No, I don’t know who he is.  I was tryin’a sneak out of town but the scuffle kind of… happened in front of me… Thatcha I don’t know what to do with him.  I can’t take him with me, he’d be inna worse situation with me than here on the streets,” Murid reasoned.  Thatcher pursed his lips, hands on his hips.  He looked at Murid from the corner of his eye.

“What?”

His mouth twitched.  Murid became more bewildered.

“What?!”

Thatcher put his hands on his knees and squatted to Murid’s level.

“Ahh c’mon!  The lad looks about yoor age.  He could be yoor new friend!”  She tried to stifle her laughter.

“No, he couldn’t.  One, are you actually suggesting that I kidnap a homeless guy?  And two, the minute he finds out I’m a witch he’d run for the hills.”

“He’d have trouble runnin’ with those feet. And you’re gonnae have t’ pay his maedical bill.”

“…I’ll give ya five lents.”  

“Five lents could’nae pay for toothpaste.”  Murid grinned at him and he snickered.  There was a knock on the door.  

Everybody conscious jumped.  The two peeked out the side and to the front door; two silhouettes could be seen, short pointed hats on the figure’s heads.  Thatcher darted back into the medical bay and grabbed two bottles.  “Tehk him an’ run,” Thatcher whispered and pushed the bottles into her hands.

“But I can’t take him-!”

“If yoo don’t, they’ll get suspicious of how he goh’ here and they’ll find out who I am!  They’re Skinners, Murrid, you ken woh’ they’re like!” He looked into her eyes, fear filling his own.

“But, he’s a… I can’t…! ...OH FINE,” she spluttered.  He briefly wrapped her in a bear hug and let go, exiting the room.  Murid skipped over to the boy and grabbed an arm and leg and hoisted his whole self over her shoulders and he gave a groan in protest.

“Oh shush, you’re fine,” she seethed and tip toed out to the back of the house. She heard the front door open and a sleepy, deep voice against two other clipped ones.  Carefully, carefully, she opened the back door and closed it behind her. With the weight of the boy pressing against her neck, she fled from the garden and over the fence, back into the night. She was starting to feel really tired.

 Out on the street again, her boots clopped on the slippery pavement and echoed. The strange animals of the night called to one another in their wild chorus, becoming louder as she neared the forest.  The trees loomed above the rooftops and into the night sky like a black creature watching in wait at the edge of the small town.  

It was something of a shock, the forest.  One minute you’d be walking through town, the next there’s a rickety fence in your way and you’re wondering why there's a whole forest staring at you. There were many dangerous creatures lurking in the bush that could snatch any passing child or adult like a spider with a fly, and all the council did was put up a ramshackle fence.  It was as if it were there to just trip up the evil creature, rather than actually stop it.

Given the area she was about to enter, Murid contemplated on flying her broom through the dense bush, but decided against it.  The use of that amount of magic would definitely draw bad attention.

Bad attention… she hoped Thatcher was alright.  

Murid repositioned the boy so he lay curled in her arms rather than over her shoulders.  Still he slept.  She squared her shoulders and started walking.

 ~          ~          ~

 ‘Yeah, I should have ridden my broom.’ Murid thought.  This wasn't the first time she had run for her life – heck, considering the technicalities, she’d already run for her life twice tonight.  She just wished it would stop happening.  She guessed she was running for the boy’s life too; after all he was the reason why an enormous monster was hot on her tail.  Her breath rattled like ground pepper in her lungs and she took a chance, glancing back.  The thing galloped on all fours, snorting and drooling, its greasy black hair illuminated by the moonlight.  It squealed and snapped jaws she couldn’t see.  She had been chased by almost every creature in Arrodagona (yes, including cute, small, herbivores) and from what she could tell… she had no idea what this thing was.

Murid shifted her focus back to the blackened path ahead of her, the moonlight just grazing the darkness, like it couldn’t be bothered lighting all the way. She scrunched her eyes shut, praying that she wouldn’t run head first into a tree, and recited the spell in her head. When she opened them her eyes lit up, glowing, brightening the way ahead of her.  At least she could see the trees and the ground now.  She also picked up a small fire burning away a few hundred metres down the track.

‘Ok, nearly there!’ she grinned desperately.    

Had she had her arms free to move, maybe she would have been able to take this beast on.  Granted, she wouldn’t try to face something this big even if she could use her magic; she’d just use it to fly away. She may have been sure of herself in that alley way, but a group of untrained boys who had no idea how to fight was a doddle compared to this thing.  

The ballistic creature inhaled then squealed, catapulting itself towards Murid.   It was her turn to squeal as she ducked down onto her heels, the creature shooting over her head.  It landed, stumbled and hit its head on a boulder.  Murid sprung back on her feet and sprinted, running past the creature before it could reassert itself.  It wasn’t long before it was behind her again, sounding for all of the world like a giant pig.  She ran and she ran and she ran and she fell.  Unable to stop herself she slid down into a ditch, disappearing from sight.  The creature leapt over the ditch and continued to run, thinking that its meal was still ahead.  

Murid stayed in the dark shallow, taking deep gulps of air on her back and gripping the boy in her arms.  Calming her breath as much as she could, she struggled to hear the fading thuds of the creature’s bounds.  It was quiet. Once she could no longer hear it she breathed out, annoyance storming her face.  

“Shiva’s tonight, what was that thing?!” she asked herself.

She counted a few more seconds to be sure everything was safe and then peeked out of hiding.  When the coast was clear, she took a few moments to figure out how to get herself, and her guest, both out of the ditch.  Maybe she should throw him.

……hm, no, they had just healed his bones, no need to hurt them again.  A dark shape caught her attention and it took her a terrified second to realise it was just a giant spider sailing down from a branch above her, not the thing from before.  Unlike everyone else on the planet who would immediately scream and panic, she relaxed.  Oh, it was very venomous; of course it was, it was Arrodagona.  She just whipped out her staff and blasted it with her magic. It sailed through the air, detaching itself from its web and hit a trunk and it scuttled away, petrified.  She caught hold of the hanging web string. “That’ll do,” she grunted, making the awkward climbing-a-rope-of-web-one-handed-up-an-incline escape.  She chucked the boy over the edge (gently) and quickly followed, waving her hand around madly to get the web off it.  Her campfire was just a few metres ahead of her.  All she had to do was walk there.  Simple as that.  

She put a foot forward.  Then another. And then another.  Aaaand, maybe one more.  She grew a little more bold and crept.  Her pointy ears picked up no sound from the surrounding forest; everything had gone... strangely quiet.  Usually the dense foliage filled itself with the strangest, most inhuman sounds made by unknown creatures.  But now it stood with a black hood and robe, and she couldn’t tell whether its back was turned to her or not.  Murid felt her hearts begin to race – she had been in this kind of situation before.

Something was watching her.

Above the pounding of blood in her ears and shaky gulps of breath, she drove on forward.  She kept her knees bent and her back hunched.  Even though the boy in her arms was light – unhealthily so – her arms were beginning to ache; they had been in the same position for too long.

She tried to listen, tried to quieten her erratic breathing, her hearts beating like drums.  She wouldn’t be this wound up if she just had her jolly staff in her hand.  She could see her camp – it was still only a few metres away.  But where had that monster gone off to?

She jumped at the boy taking a guttural breath.  She could worry about him later; right now, something was wrong. This was too easy.  Just a few simple steps to safety, and it didn't feel safe at all.  She listened to every rustle, every snapped twig, to the breeze that played with her hair, the low growl from behind that bush –

Murid dropped her escort, her arm flashing with her spear as the monster sprung towards her.  By pure chance, she had the end pointed at the thing’s chest and it ran itself into the crystal blade and white hot pain ripped down her arm.

She cried out as the sheer force of the falling monster pushed her into the ground.  She landed on her back, the staff propping up the dead beast and she rolled it off of her. Murid spun over and sat up on her knees before the pain overcame her and she scrunched up her face, biting back tears. She gripped her arm as warm, dark sea-green blood slipped between her fingers and spread through the sleeve of her coat, dripping on the ground.  

She got up and tried walking the pain off by power-walking in a circle and chanting “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.”  

She walked over to the beast.  It was dead, thank The Five.  She picked out her staff from its body and looked at her arm in the light of her eyes; the cut didn’t look too bad.  It was bleeding a lot though.  With some alcohol to douse it maybe she wouldn’t contract Crick Joint or any other diseases.  Murid had experienced injuries similar this one before – she would be fine.  She looked back at the creature and her stomach began to twist.  It looked like someone had gotten the torso and arms of a human and merged it with the head and the legs of a wild boar, some kind of horror of magic and medical. The human parts were thick with dark fur, showing hints of skin here and there.  Around its bowed legs it wore crude, sand-coloured pants; across its hairy chest lay an iron chest plate and matching gauntlets on its hands.  

“Thaaaaaaaaaat’s… not normal,” Murid breathed, her skin prickling and her ears popping.  Something strange began to happen, starting from its eyes.  Like a piece of wood turning to charcoal in the heat of a fire, its skin turned black and fell into ash, leaving a bone white skeleton.  A small, blue light ascended from the remains, glowing ever so faint.  It hung there for a second and then was off, soaring into the sky like a tiny shooting star. The thought of moving didn’t occur to Murid for quite a while; she just stood frowning at the sky, her mouth hung open.

“…WHAT?! What, what, what, what-?!  Ow.”  Her face twisted in pain from her wounded arm, the agony flaring. She decided that the best thing to do for now was to get to her camp and go to bed before another wild thing appeared.  Or at least before she bled to death.  Or she left enough blood on the ground to attract more creatures.  So many options…  

She gripped her staff and used it as a walking stick.  She caught sight of the boy, his limp frame laying on the dirt and gravel.  She trudged over to him and looked down on him for a while, head spinning.  She prodded him with her staff.  

“Oi.  Get up.” She ordered.  The boy replied with more rattled breathing.  She looked at her staff, then at the stranger, then back at her staff and groaned at the sky.  Carrying him with magic would be too hard, she would need both her hands for Five’s sake. She clenched her crystal bladed staff and twisted her wrist.  The effects were immediate; her staff turned into smoke and shrunk into her palm and when she opened it, a small marble encased in wood was left, the light fading. Pocketing the milky blue marble, she sighed down at the boy.  

The witch clomped in a tired stupor over to her camp, her arm throbbing like crazy from the weight in her arms.  She passed through the invisible barrier encompassing her camp, separating it from the rest of the forest.  As soon as she was clear, she dropped down on her knees and lost her grip, her charge spilling on the ground.  She yawned and collapsed on the ground next to him, breathing heavily.  

Safe at last.