Roots of Earth ~ A Ninjago Fanfiction

Chapter 80: The First Encounter

"Stupid Lars. Him and his stupid gang."

Several birds were disturbed by the snap of branches and clatter of stones. They jumped and flew away from the forest of pale beech trees, squawking briefly. The source of the unexpected ruckus ignored their cries. From a pile of mossy boulders a figure hopped down. He stumbled upon hitting the ground—not by much, but enough to make his scowl grow darker, and he kicked at one of the smaller stones. It clattered away, muffled on the dry sand of the shallow hollow.

The boy winced. Now his foot hurt from kicking that rock. As if the rest of his body weren't hurting enough. His plain brown trousers were both torn and stained, revealing skinned knees. Grit and grass stains dirtied the boy's pale orange qipao shirt—Mother won't be happy about that, he'd thought ruefully when he had examined the damage done earlier. Scrapes and splotches of dirt on his hands and his face matched the marks on his clothes. The skin of the palm of his hands were red from when they'd shoved him down on the pavement and he'd held his hands out to break the fall. His coal-black hair, usually combed neatly, fell in scruffy, sweaty strands. He swiped the dark locks out of his eyes irritably.

As much as the rest of his bruised and body hurt, however, nothing hurt quite as much as his face. The boy raised his hand to one eye and touched the cheekbone area tentatively. A stab of pain upon contact made him wince and bite his lip. That's going to be a black eye.

The youth stood there among the trees and rocks for a moment, glaring bitterly. His lips trembled, and he struggled fiercely against the temptation to break down and sob. Boys don't cry. You're too old to cry, he rebuked himself bitterly. Fifteen years old and you still want to go crying like a baby.

Not for the first time, he wondered why Lars, one of the biggest boys in the village, always found such delight in tormenting and hurting others. He was a cruel bully, notorious for picking on the younger boys and for the small gang of vicious friends who cheered on his violent antics and enjoyed helping him with his ill pranks. The boy was one of Lars' favorite victims, not only because he was small and skinny, but because he never tried to defend himself nor threaten to report the bullying. Fear had pressed him into submission and acceptance of his fate.

Thus the boy often found himself alone in the woods, away from the village and away from Lars and his gang's jeers. They most frequently ambushed him on his way back from school, when they got bored disturbing the neighbors' chickens, breaking things in the old mill, or running around in the back woods by the creek. More often than not, they only called him names and pushed him into the dirt and nettles. However, today Lars had not been so merciful.

"What'd I'd ever do to him, anyway?" the boy muttered to himself. Talking helped distract him from the pain throbbing everywhere. He glared at a tree, imagining the old bark to be Lars' fat, sneering face, and proceeded to address it with several words his mother would not have approved of.

"I hope the Serpentine get you," he added. It was a childish insult, especially for someone his age. However, it felt good, and it was fun to imagine fat old Lars being swallowed whole by a giant snake warrior.

The boy finally allowed silence to prevail in the forest. Now that he'd stopped talking, it suddenly felt much lonelier. He gazed up at the forest leaves hanging overhead like a shimmering curtain, allowing thin beams of sunlight to hit the mossy ground here and there. A few robins chirped in the distance. The boy breathed in the fresh, earthy scent and felt himself relax. Being among nature soothed him.

He closed his eyes. He loved to listen to the music of the woods: the rustle of leaves, the breath of wind, the—

—singing?