RTYY 123 - A Memory of Cold and Hunger

To Snow's relief, the next morning, everything had gone more or less back to normal. More or less in the sense that Zaiwin seemed to have finally recovered, going back to his usual short-tempered self, ordering every one around, one-sidedly deciding what they should do next.

They kept traveling southeast, away from Tei's border and, even though they still crossed paths with feimao the two following nights, they were never as dangerous or as numerous as what they had encountered before. Belonging to what ZenTar had called type-one, even MenTar and ZenTar had been able to deal with them, simply shooting them down as if they were any ordinary animal.

The problem, Snow quickly concluded, wasn't the feimao themselves, but the rot and destruction they spread wherever they went, damaging the land and every living creature that inhabited it. But ZaiWin never allowed him to do anything about it, constantly pressing them forward, as if he'd suddenly been delivered a time limit to complete some unknown mission.

Snow had also went back to his training, both daitai control, by night, and archery, whenever they got a long enough break that would allow him and MenTar to escape the other's watchful gazes. And he couldn't help feeling proud of his own improvements on both areas.

He'd gone from shooting twenty-five arrows to thirty-five in just four days, and now he could hit the target more than half the times he too a shot. MenTar had even started to train him to hit moving targets, hanging all kids of things from tree branches and swinging them around so he could practice.

Where his daitai were concerned, things were going considerably better as well. At least none of the following daitai had dragged him to any more life or death scenarios, which meant that he was left to deal with them more or less on his own. The only present problem was exactly with that 'more or less'.

Even though everything had apparently gone back to normal, something had also changed, although Snow couldn't quite put his finger on it. Somehow ZaiWin looked … less willingly to spend so much time with him, his instructions fewer than before, his answers to Snow's questions shorter and drier. It was almost as if before he had been as enthusiastic about teaching him as Snow had been excited about learning. But now he was just fulfilling annoying obligation. Not that he was supposed to feel enthusiastic about it, Snow had reminded himself several times by now. After all, he was teaching him only because he wanted to make sure that Snow wouldn't inadvertently hurt those around them. In truth, Snow was the only one with anything concrete to gain from the whole thing. And taking into account all he knew about his present situation, the possibility that ZaiWin might feel remotely pleased with his success had never even crossed his mind,.

Snow was a prisoner, not a friend. And, if things took a turn for the worse, he was a walking death sentence to all of them, that much he'd gathered. But still he couldn't help feeling as if something was missing, something that had actually brought him some measure of joy. And so yes, it was a relief that at least none of his memories had reflected directly upon ZaiWin. Seeing how bored and annoyed he always looked sitting there, waiting for him to make a progress, Snow didn't want to make things even worse.

Looking around, Snow took both his hands to his lips and breathed on them, trying to warm his freezing fingers. It was always cold in his memories. If he didn't know better, he would have thought he'd spent the first few years of his childhood on some summerless icy mountain.

He was alone, as usually, since back then Sand had spent her days trying to make sure they survived, be it by working or begging, or even roaming through other people's garbage.

Looking down, he saw he was barefoot, his feet so cold that his toes hurt. And he was so hungry that his stomach was practically glued to his back.

On the other side of the street, people kept coming and going from the small food stall that was opened the entire year, selling all kids of deliciously scented dishes. Sometimes, if Snow waited long enough, one of the costumers would take notice of him and spare him a loaf of bread. Once he had even been given an entire pastry, filled with apple cream. He had never eaten anything as sweet and as delicious as that.

The sound of a boy crying captured his attention, and he saw another child, older than him, being reprimanded by a woman, probably his mother. He had accidentally dropped the food on his plate, and had tried to retrieve it from the ground. His mother had immediately stopped him, scolding him angrily, which had led to the ensuing crying.

Snow's gaze, however, didn't linger for long on the mother and child. An entire bun sprinkled with dark, small seeds and three slices of cheese laid now on the ground, staring back at him, making his mouth water.

He knew he was forbidden to cross the street. The owner of the food stall didn't want him anywhere near his precious costumers. But if he didn't hurry up the girl that worked the tables would soon come and sweep the precious food away, covering the beautiful bun with dirt.

Making up his mind, Snow took a deep breath and ran across the street as fast as his small legs would allow him. Without even stopping, bending forward, he grabbed the bread and as many slices of cheese as he could hold, before he sprinted away again. The woman sitting at the nearby bench shrieked in alarm, probably afraid he might be there to steal her purse. But, by the time the other people looked to see what was going on, Snow was already a good few feet away, hugging the bun against his chest, the ice-cold wind brushing against his face.

Turning right and left through streets he knew as well as the back of his hand, Snow only stopped when he reached a quiet, dark alley, and quickly hid behind a pile of old wooden crates that had probably been left there before he was even born. This was hardly the first time that he ran there to hide. The wood crates made that alley the perfect hiding place for someone small like him, allowing him to keep watch until he was certain that he wasn't being followed anymore.

Crouching behind the crates, Snow sighed in relief when, a few moments later, he still couldn't hear any signs of chase.

With a smile on his lips, he finally took the time to contemplate his winnings. He'd only managed to grab two of the three slices of cheese, but everything else was there. He'd eat half of it and save the other half for Sand, for when she returned home.

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Little Snow is so cute that I just want to hug him! 🤗