I was just a hungry man in need of sustenance.
The Mages chased me through the streets for what felt like hours until I eventually outsmarted them and ducked in and out of a slew of less reputable businesses this side of town.
Eventually, I made my way back to my shelter, content to wait them out. They’d never find me here, I was too far away from the initial scene of the crime. Even if they did, I was certain they’d take one look at my shelter and deem it part of the garbage that often piled up alongside the refuse from the tavern.
That was another advantage to living next to garbage—the other orphans and street dwellers never took my things or invaded my space. We’d all been chased out of trash bins enough times to know to leave them alone.
At least until the hunger became too much to bear.
My stomach growled loudly in protest, again, and I stuck my head through the small flap of fabric separating me from the outside world.
Instantly, my hair became soaked, plastering to the sides of my head and my face. Rivulets of freezing water ran like tears into my unkept beard, and I scratched my face absentmindedly. I felt a hard lump on the right side of my cheek and scratched at it with my nail until it came loose, leaving a wet feeling behind.
A maggot was wriggling against the point of my nail, and I flung my hand in disgust, nearly retching at the sight.
How did I not notice amaggotattached to my face? Had I really sunk that low?
The answer was undoubtedly yes.
On more than one occasion, I thought about returning to the place I once called home. Seeing if Red or one of the other girls would take me in. I could avoid my mother long enough to get a bath and some food. Rest in warmth and comfort for a few nights before venturing out again, but each time my resolve weakened, I thought of the woman I called my mother. The memories of her striking me, words coated with hate, instantly had the thought of Red and the brothel dying in my head.
I wonder how my siblings are doing . . . if Lena is okay.
I rubbed my sternum before resting my body back inside my tent. I’d made a promise to find work and send back as much as I could for them, but so far, I couldn’t even take care of myself.
I chuffed a dry laugh that quickly turned into a cough.
Fuck.
If I fell sick, there was little chance I’d survive. There was no medicinal care for people on the streets. Fuck, there was barely medicinal care for those whocouldpay for it. The sickness itself wouldn’t kill me, but it would be the tipping point. Months of malnourishment left my body weak and frail, a shadow of what I once was.
At this point, most employers would turn me away on the spot. Even if I were groomed and dressed in something other than torn and tattered pants and a shirt with colors so dingy their original hues were indecipherable, I still would find work impossible.
I was too skinny, my bones too brittle to work manual labor.
Tavern barkeeps were older, and the barmaids were all, well, girls.
Even the pleasure houses would turn me out; either because word spread of my exile or because no person—woman or man—would find my body attractive in this state.
My condition eliminated all but a few jobs, and those generally required someone who was Awakened. I still had six years—if I lasted that long—before I was legally Awakened.
I could get someone to illegally Awaken me, but that costs coin I didn’t have, and I wasn’t willing to risk indentured servitude to whatever master agreed to Awaken me. I shuddered at the thought.
Rubbing my calloused hands together to expel some of the cold, I thought about a plan. There had to besomethingI could do, some job I could occupy.
Another rattling cough set my chest aflame.
At this rate, I might not make it through the night.
Darkness fell as quickly as the rain pelting my sorry excuse for a home, and my body wracked with shivers. Knees pressed to my chest, head bent down, I curled myself into the smallest form possible. Slowly, my eyes grew heavy, and I slipped into a fitful sleep.
“Are you awake?”a low, smooth voice called to me from somewhere in the dark, pulling me reluctantly from the embrace of darkness and death.
Am I awake? Where am I?
A large hand palmed my shoulder, oblivious or uncaring of my abject filth, and gently shook my body.
I groaned in pain, my bones aching, before my groan transformed into another soul-racking cough. The burning inmy chest was unbearable, spreading from the middle of my sternum and throughout my chest cavity.
