The Crimson Bow: And the Eagle Insignia

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

" ... Defender of mankind ... "

" Fire "

Year 700. April 9th. Evening [17:07]

Inondra. Isaedael Slums.

So says the Timekeeper

*

The evening sun streams in from between two run-down huts, blazing on a young boy's face regretfully turned upward. His eyes flicker and his rude awakening comes in the form of light straining his eyes through the eye lids, and he can only take it for so long. Before long, he pulls a hand over his eyes and turns his head away from the sun, but it's no use, he's already awake. The lanky boy turns over onto his chest and exhales hot, smothering breath into the dirty, thin rags that he lays upon. He moves slowly in the process of getting up, even though he can tell from the placement of the sun in the sky that it's well into the evening and the sun has already started to set. He pulls himself to a sitting position and stares at an unimportant spot on the filthy ground, his duel-colored gaze devoid of any stimuli. Recognition comes eventually, but only moment by moment.

He picks at a piece of his sandal coming off and gazes anywhere his attention takes him. The children playing just outside the little pile of rags where he 'lives', a pigeon pecking at the ground, a skinny dog rummaging through some debris, most likely searching for any kind of food, and then finally his eyes rest on a cloth filled with dried meat tied into a neat little baggy. He's been saving this meat since the last meat ration which comes along only once or twice a year. And he isn't quite sure what possesses him to do this but he whistles to the dog, waving a little stick of the meat to draw the pitiful creature towards him. She perks her ears and eyes the meat with hesitant eyes, but the boy can see the glitter of desire, dogs were so easy to read, nothing like people. Slowly, the dirty blonde dog limps over to him and gingerly takes the piece of meat from his hand, eating it daintily as if she's unsure if she can really have it. The boy takes another piece and splits it, giving one half to the dog and keeping the other half for himself to munch on while he watches the dog eat. He extends his hand and strokes the dog's head. She's timid at first, and flinches at his touch, but the gentleness of the boy wins her over and she shuffles closer to him, her head propped in his lap, waiting for her next piece of meat.

After sharing a good portion of the saved meat with the dog, he leans down and strokes her head, brushing away some of the filth around her eyes. "Hello, my name is Alistair," he coos, and her ears perk up again, "Are you a stray? Do you want to stay with me?" The dog nuzzles closer and forces her nose under one of his dark tan-skinned hands while he bestows Alistair's other hand with a sloppy lick. "Haha... I'll take that as a yes. Do you have a name? A pretty lady like you?" he chuckles softly and lays down beside the dog, who rests her head on his hip, "Well, I'm going to call you... Ginger Lace! That's it, you're Ginger Lace." The dog lifts her head and replies with a short bark, followed by the wagging of her tail. "You like that, huh?" he smiles, "Ginger because you're sort of ginger and gentle, and lace because you're a pretty lady."

Ginger Lace barks again and curls up beside him, her tail still wagging. Alistair's eyes – one a silvery blue and the other a bright red – shine with an emotion other than misery for the first time in a long time. A cool breeze comes over him and the somewhat small boy presses closer to the shaggy, skinny dog for warmth. A fire would be nice. If he had sticks and a rock. He could also just make a fire with his abilities, but that's too scary, so he gives up on that idea and just settles for using shaggy, matted Ginger Lace as a blanket.