Chapter 1 Not bread for the hungry

It was a cold morning even though the sun was out. A kid with wild blue locks enjoys the gentle wind in a shadow. He had been carrying guest suitcases for a while, and his arm felt numb. He was taking in this little moment of rest. A rumbling came from inside his guts. Hunger. The disheveled kid took a wrapper lying by his feet and fixed it around the scar on his left forearm. As a newborn, they had been complications with his birth and the matrona at the time decided that Arkin's flesh after his forearm was unnecessary.

Thus, the kid's left arm was severed crudely mid-way. Arkin didn't mind this arrangement, yet people hated to see his scar. They confuse him with a common criminal that had received punishment for a random crime. The cloth around it didn't make it any better, yet Arkin felt it somehow made a difference. When he finished, he ran into the busy streets of the White Kingdom. A commercial market full of fantastic trade of magical items for adventurers and travelers. The White Kingdom was famous for its habitat's commerce but more for its founders, the Pale Guardians that lived at the highest point of Ashval highlands. Arkin imagined the top of the mountains smelling like sugar drops, a famous dessert composed of a spongy cake with lilac syrup. Arkin's mouth watered, thinking about it while he wondered.

The kid couldn't stop looking up. Ashval was the resident of the Pale Guardians, a place of training and sanctuary for the Dragons. The old owner, Mister Roufther, for who he works, said once that those dragons weren't like the ones in the Southlands. They were honorable and powerful. He said he didn't see them in their actual form often. Their appearance was of tall, muscular humans with ashy tones on their skin. They will only wander the streets if they need it to depart towards a different location. Mister Roufther always laughed that even though they were powerful creatures, they often walked more than fly. He would say that was a waste. Their cold expressions were the only telling of their otherworldliness, and their pupils shrunk like felines in the wild. Lost in thought, he misstepped his way and bumped without noticing the victim of his precariousness.

Are you missing eyes too!!! You cripple piece of shit!!

Still on the floor, Arkin looked up, and his mouth twisted in disgust.

What! no apologies. I expected that animals like you go around not caring for the seniors of this city. You little orphans only eat, steal, and shit the hard work of these townspeople.

The older man in question was not that old looking, yet he was a man of influence. A tall, broad shoulder guard that served in a single battle a couple of years ago and that he fought in the same army as the current king, he thought himself worthy of more than he deserved. He would take his rage for lack of achievements into the kids, mostly Arkin. The other orphans called him buttface Leonart, and Arkin thought the name fitted. He thought Arkin was a bad omen for the town, a kind of uncanny composure and wild behavior that gave too much trouble.

I barely touched you. Arkin spat at him.

You are ungrateful... the old guard lifts his foot and kicks Arkin right in the face. The movement came quick, leaving just burning and some broken teeth.

Apologize you shit

The older man gave another step, threatening to take Arkin's next set of teeth. Arkin looked at the old guard with rage in his eyes. He felt the eyes of all folks walking around him, whispering and gossiping about the orphan that had abused an older man. Arkin lifted his head and aimed; he spat once again. Two sets of bloody molars had left Arkin's mouth and reached the buttface white shirt.

Eat shit, buttface!!

The man didn't spare a warning this time and kicked the young one again. Arkin had expected this and hurried and dodged the kick with spare time to grab the man's other leg making him stumble and fall on his back. The crowd gasped and went to help. Arkin stood quickly and scared before they started pointing fingers at him. He hid behind an ally, hearing the old man scream profanities, and curses at the boy's master. The boy sighed in frustration because there was no chance he would have dinner tonight.

As the afternoon turned evening, Arkin looked for a rat to hunt, yet it was early spring, a sign that the owners had prepared a clean environment for the tourist and adventurers to stay in, which meant the only rats running around were poisoned or dead. He passed by his master's hostel, hoping he still had a chance to apologize, yet Mister Roufther had locked the door, and one of the kids was on the lookout in case Arkin decided to try and sneak in. Out of all the kids, Ricky had been put on guard, and He didn't like Ricky. He had been the one who had to give Arkin a poisoned rat that had given him a horrible stomachache; if it hadn't been for Kira making him throw up, it would have been worse than a stomachache.

Painfully hungry, Arkin walked the streets, settling himself in a homeless commune where all share the heat of old firestone. It was cold, and Arkin's stomach protested without response. He was lying in a corner when he noticed a piece of bread. The guy was so focused on his story while munching some grapes that he had not seen the old moldy bread fall of the hole in his pocket.

Arkin crawled closer and closer to the bread that looked less and less moldy to him; He was inches away before someone screamed.

Thief thief! Thief!!

A woman across from him had noticed his intentions causing Arkin to panic and grab the bread earning everyone's awareness of his crime. As he ran, rocks were thrown at him, and many landed on his back.

After running for so long, he found himself on the outskirts of the city, still clutching the moldy substance on his chest. The night had become colder and blacker than a wolf's mouth. The sweat wrapped the wind around every corner of his bones. Arkin felt pain in every limp, and in his chest, there was a sad feeling he pushed away as far as he could. Yet when he reached the ruins of a fountain and sat down on its edge, water lines contour his cheeks. The tears fell on the bread while Arkin bit on it. He cleaned them with the same hand, but they couldn't stop.

I hope ... you all die... you shitter.. you.

His words sounded like mumble noises while he chewed the hard food

the snap of a branch resonated in the night.

....

Arkin chewing and sobbing stopped as soon as he heard. Frozen in his seat, he turns his head towards the noise. The forest was dark, and the moon could barely reveal the secrets it hid. Yet Arkin wished it was pitch black.

A pair of feline crimson eyes were looking back at him.