Brine Water

"... That's not a Human. That's a little monster, that's what he is!" The younger villager told Grake, shaking his finger in direction of the said nuisance, who stood facing the corner of their cabin where he had been told to go as punishment.

"I don't know why you want to keep him so much. He's been nothing but trouble ever since you brought him here. He doesn't work. He doesn't help. All he does is eat."

"Well, he tries... He is still little." The old villager defended his foundling half-heartedly.

"Little? He's been with you for four years! All the other children already grew up! He barely changed at all since we moved in with you. Margol and Tnul are younger than he is, but they already help. And he is still useless!... And look at all that salt water he is making again. Stop it, do you hear?"

The villager angrily frowned in direction of the strange child, who nodded obediently, but new tears continued to trail down his cheeks to his short nose and chin.

"That's just how he cries. It's probably normal for Humans." The old villager only sighed wearily.

"Well, I think it's disgusting and he shouldn't be doing it." The villager glared at the child in the corner a bit more, before turning to face the elder once more.

"He is still very young, Rangil." The elder tried to appeal once again. "Humans take longer to grow up, remember? The elders said so. They said that it's probably because they live longer. So, they stay young longer, too."

"I don't care, Grake. He's causing too much trouble! I wish you had just left him where you found him."

"Rangil-"

The younger villager suddenly paused and sniffed the air, after which his expression screwed up with disgust. "... And he smells again!"

The older villager winced at the accusation. "You did make him stand all day in that corner, Rangil. You know that he has to... It's a Human thing."

"Yes, I know! But he always smells. It's disgusting. Its like we're sharing our house with a dirty animal."

"Well, you know that he won't go by himself anywhere close to the water... But I'll take him to the riverside myself first thing tomorrow morning-" Old Grake promised reluctantly, not looking forward to the long walk.

"Ugh, it's not even about that!" His nephew angrily threw up his hands. "Or not JUST that... My brother was right. He is not Human, Grake! No Humans have eyes like that. Or make fire with their hands! It's not normal even for them! I know what I'm talking about, Grake, I've read those books, too. The worst thing is his power with those mobs. Or didn't you see what he did today? Bringing that creeper in the house? Letting Margol and Tnul touch it? It could have exploded the house and killed them all!"

At the last words, quiet sniffles in the corner turned into muffled sobs. Catching the guilty, softly glowing white eyes turned into their direction, the younger villager warningly pointed a finger and the creature that Grake still thought to be a Human turned away to face the wall.

"I'm telling you, Grake. Get rid of him. Before something bad happens. Just take him somewhere far to the woods where that Enderman cannot get to him and leave him there! So what if he dies? He will just respawn somewhere else. Far from here! So we won't have to deal with all this anymore."

"Please, Rangil. You know that he won't respawn normally. He will probably reappear looking exactly the same as he does now. He won't be able to survive out there like that! He is too little. Do you really want him to die again and again as he wanders about lost and alone? I know you better than this..."

"I..." Rangil lowered his head, frowning and shaking it a little as he considered the older villager's gently reproachful words.

"Rangil, he is not that bad. Wait until he grows up. Then, he will probably leave himself."

"I don't care... I DON'T WANT HIM IN THIS HOUSE!" The young villager exclaimed.

Folding his hands, he glared at the older villager. "I've waited long enough and I've had enough of this nonsense. It's either him or us. You'll have to choose."

The old villager looked with a lost expression between the adamant face of his relative and the small form standing in the corner and sighed.

A little later, the old villager led the way to the barn that stood not far from the family house, the little human child following him with a bundle of his belongings clasped in his hands. The barn was in a state of disrepair, since the recent storm had swept through a few weeks past and Rangil had said that he was too busy to repair it. And Grake was simply too old. He could barely walk now and each step made his bones creak and hurt. The old villager's pace matched well the short steps of the little child timidly walking behind him.

Casting a guilty look in the child's direction, the old villager humphed and opened the crooked door of the barn, letting the child in. Searching around, the villager made his way to the corner, where a stack of hay lay on the cracked, black wood.

"Here you go, Hero."

The old villager placed the blanket on the hay and spread it, trying to make the spot comfortable.

"It won't be that bad living here. You'll see. It's safe and dry. You'll be fine. And you're old enough to sleep alone."

The boy nodded, looking sad. But no new salt water came running down his cheeks, so Grake figured that he was well enough and didn't need to be held to be comforted. Instead, he ruffled the soft fur on his head, evoking a small grin.

Grake still spent a bit more time with the child, helping him settle in. Then, he regretfully considered him, wishing that his relatives were not so dead set on rejecting the little being.

He didn't understand why they all disliked him so much. Ever since Grake brought him, they continued to find fault with him.

First, it was his inconsolable and frequent crying that annoyed them, because it didn't sound exactly as the cries their children made. Then, it was because he remained so helpless and small, when their own children already began to run and play. It took a long time for Hero to learn how to do the simplest of things and he still could not talk well. The other villagers thought him stupid or even mind damaged. And most of all, they didn't like the way he looked at them with his strange, glowing eyes.

Grake, however, enjoyed spending time with the child. And he was going to miss the warmth of his presence when Hero would cuddle next to him, trustingly leaning his furry head against the old villager's arm. And the peaceful breathing, which for some reason relaxed him. In the last four years that he cared for the little human, the old villager grew attached to him, so he didn't really mind his strangeness.

Still, he cared about being accepted by his family and friends more.

"You'll be fine here, little fellow. You'll see. You'll be well. I'll still take care of you. If you need anything at all, you can come and ask. All right?"

The old villager instructed and the child nodded. And then Grake left him alone, shuffling back to the house where his relative's critical look met him. Not entirely pleased that Grake still insisted on keeping his foundling, but content that the strange creature was out of their house, the younger villager nodded to him with grudging approval.

"At least it's far enough away." Rangil grumbled. At Grake's questioning look, the younger villager shrugged. "In case he sets fire to that place. It's far enough away so it won't reach our house." He explained.

The old villager only humphed in response. He couldn't deny his relative's concern about that unsettling trait that his young foundling had. More and more of Grake's relatives and neighbors began to question whether Grake's decision to adopt the foundling was wise. Ever since they caught him with several younger villagers watching as he poked his finger at dry grass, which then sparked and caught fire. He was punished for it, of course. But then it happened again, when some older village kids cornered him and began to tease him because of the salt water his eyes made when he cried.

One moment they were poking him with their hands and the next, one of them was crying because his shirt had caught on fire.

"It's Briny's fault! He did it!" The other children accused. And Hero didn't deny it, though he didn't know how exactly he made it happen. It was clearly an accident. But it was a scary accident. And that's when many of the other villagers started to gossip if maybe the child Grake found was not human but some sort of monster.

Grake heard them. And tried to keep them from learning about the other strange things that Hero did. Only it was hard, because he couldn't keep up with the little boy once he began to walk.

No matter how mean the other children were to him, he still tried to approach them, tried to follow them. And even though Grake told him to keep his strange abilities hidden, sometimes Hero forgot about it. Or the other children goaded him into doing things, for which he would get in trouble.

Like the idea with the creeper. It was not Hero who brought it into the house. It had been Rangil's two nephews, for whom the young villager accepted responsibility after his older brother disappeared. The boys thought it amusing to spy on the little human, which was how they knew that mobs acted strangely docile around him.

So, when they spied a creeper nearby, they coaxed Hero to go with them. Then, they cornered and captured the creature, throwing a rope around it. And couldn't think of anything better than dragging it into their house, where their uncle walked in upon their mischief. Although they threw a blanket over the creature, their innocent expressions gave them away.

Rangil frowned at them and was just about to ask about what was going on when a sad hiss came from behind them, making their uncle freeze where he stood. And when he lifted that blanket and saw the deadly creature, he stumbled back so violently that he broke a shelf with his favorite pots.

The two older boys immediately pointed their fingers at Hero. And Hero, who was shy and had difficulty talking so his words made sense, couldn't quite explain what happened. So it was him that Rangil punished, ordering the little human to stand in the corner all day, without lunch or dinner.

That's where Grake found him when he came home. And when he finally coaxed the real story of what happened from tearful Hero, Rangil still chose not to listen to it, fed up by the trouble caused by the human's presence in their lives. Which led to his argument with Grake and Grake giving way.

At least, Rangil also punished his two nephews for lying.

Returning home after dropping off Hero in the barn, Grake overheard his relative yelling at them and ordering them to go to bed without dinner.

Rangil said nothing when Grake prepared a portion of the meal to take to the little human in the barn. Before leaving though, Grake saw the boys cast angry, resentful looks in barn's direction. They whispered something, leaning close to each other, and then snickered in not a nice way, their eyes filled with anticipation of new mischief, which Grake was sure would be aimed at Hero.

Grake only shook his head as he made his way out of the door. Once again, Hero managed to accidentally turn others against him. Grake worried about what would happen to the little fellow when he, Grake, would be gone. Because he could feel it coming closer. The time when he would no longer be there to protect the strange little human he found in the woods. He could only hope that it would happen later. Just a bit more time for the little human to grow up and become strong enough to fend for himself.

Because that's all that he could give him, old Grake thought sadly to himself.

Pushing the creaky door of the barn open, Grake saw the little human's face light up at his coming. Next thing he knew, the boy was next to him, his small arms thrown around him in a hug.

"There, there. It will be fine, Hero. You'll see. It will be all good. You will just have to be patient. And it will all work out. Even if it seems a bit hard right now."

Noting the confused, questioning look in the child's glowing eyes, Grake only sighed and drew his own free arm around the child to comfort him back. Then, he grinned.

"I've brought you dinner." He said and reached the bowl with stew and bread to the boy. Immediately, Hero turned his full attention to the meal, hastily eating everything. Looking at his fragile little frame, the old villager wondered just where all that food went. No matter how much the child ate, it seemed to just disappear, with him still remaining tiny.

"I've also brought you something else." The old villager said and pulled out a white bundle from under his shirt where he hid it, so his relatives would not notice it. The cloth unfolded in Grake's hands, turning into a cape adorned with a faintly visible mysterious curved symbol.

"This belongs to you." The old villager explained to the curiously watching child.

"When you were little, I've many times told you the story about how I found you. And I've even shown you the place. But you were very little, then. So, I will tell you this story again. And tomorrow, I will take you there again. And I hope you remember it all. Because... I think it might be important... And you listen and try to remember, all right?"

At the boy's nod, the old villager humphed and ran his hand over the amazingly smooth, silky material of the white cloth, still as snow-white clean as it was when he found it.

"All right... It was four years ago and I was coming home late one day..."

...

Thunder rolled almost directly overhead and the little boy jumped, nervously drawing the thick woolen blanket to his chin, trying to find comfort in the familiar feeling that brought to him, of his caretaker gently tucking it in around him before he fell asleep.

Lightning flashed, revealing the half-empty barn around him, its boards crooked and dark, allowing drafts of cold wind to sneak through the cracks in the walls. The old wood creaked and branches violently hit against the walls outside.

The child shivered in his spot, his glowing gaze drawing to the half-open door through which he could see the dark woods. He wished very much that his caretaker would walk through that door right now and stay with him, so he could cuddle by his side, just as he used to sometimes even after he moved to live here in this shaky shelter.

But he knew that no one would walk through that door now. His caretaker was gone.

Guilt grew, filling the boy's expression and he momentarily blinked off tears. His caretaker's relatives, the other villagers who lived with him in the big house nearby, had told him that it was his, Hero's fault. If he had not been so clingy that his caretaker kept coming to stay with him at night, he might have still been alive. Instead, because of Hero being so selfish, the old villager had fallen ill and couldn't recover.

Another roll of thunder made Hero bury his face in his blanket and curl up tighter, dampening his guilt a little. He was afraid. Storms and the loud thunder scared him.

He was not crying though. He knew it wouldn't help any. And if the other children saw him, they would only tease him more for it.

Drawing the heavy blanket over his head entirely, Hero closed his eyes and tried to breathe slowly, in and out, turning his attention within himself to the bright center of light that he saw there. It helped him. Calming, warm, the light steadily pulsed in rhythm with his heart.

Closing his eyes to shut away their glow, Hero lay with the blanket tightly folded around him like a barrier against the world beyond and breathed. And remembered his caretaker's gentle hands holding him and rocking him as he hummed an old lullaby.

When the next thunder sounded, the little boy didn't react. He was deeply asleep.