losthitsuzen THEME == 702 words
bleh. unfinished. i don't feel like writing. there's too much i need to do at home. It makes me twitchy. >_<
“Aye, it’s the wee one. Thought ‘e could steal ol’ Bunwyn’s pie, he did. String ‘im up good, lads.”
Elson scrambled away from the grasping hands of Bunwyn’s servants, his heart hammering in his chest. He’d only wanted a little pie. Just a bite. It’d been so long since he’d had any good food. Just scraps and rotten leftovers for him for weeks now. The pie had looked so tasty, and Bunwyn had left it out! It should have been a crime to leave a pie out on a window and expect no one to grab it, ‘specially in a world like this. They’d practically offered it to him!
And now he was in a stitch. The men were circling around him, grinning a little, like the knew Elson didn’t stand a chance. They were probably right, too, but he wasn’t about to make it easy for them. His mother hadn’t taught him much, but she had taught him how to run away, and stay gone. He was good at running, at escaping. Let them try to catch him! Just let them try!
“Give it up, boy. We’ve got yeh surrounded now.” Bunwyn chortled to Elson from his place across the room. He lifted a bit of chicken from his place and bit down into the greasy thigh, taking out a huge chunk of meat to chew. A bit of the meat fell form his mouth, bumping along his beard before it landed on the floor, where Bunwyn’s dog wolfed it down greedily. Elson saw nothing of this, however, as he dodged the grabbing hands of the servants. He didn’t want to be caught, and the quickest way to get caught was to get distracted. His life had also consisted of escaping those that wanted to punish him for one thing or the other. This was a familiar game.
With a small snarl of challenge, he dodged the grabbing hand of a tall, burly man, skittering between the mans legs and out of the ring of servants that had enclosed him. Elson took off in a flying run out of the open door and into the street, Bunwyn’s roar of explicatives hounding his footsteps. Outside of the tavern the streets were filled with people, and Elson thanked the gods for it. It was easier to get lost in a crowd than an open street, and people were less likely to pay attention to a strange boy when they were busy trying to avoid getting knocked over or stepped on by everyone else elbowing their ways through to market. He slipped through the crowd as gently as he could, knowing that the quickest way to get grabbed by a stranger while you were running from other people, was to bump into the person and make them angry. Best to avoid impact when he could.
Soon enough he was out of the crowd and into Hasting’s territory, where the streets were thinner and crooked and filthy, and the homes were leaning into the street, held together by sweat and blood more than anything else. It was a good place to get lost as well, but not nearly as lucky. He was as likely to get picked up by a pimp or a thief down Hasting’s, but it was his best bet. Shouts were rising above the murmur of the crowd behind him, with cries of ‘stop! Thief!’. It wouldn’t be long now before some law-respecting citizen noticed that he was running and made to stop him.
Elson ran faster.
The shouts were getting closer. He shoved down the panic that was tightening his throat and ran for all he was worth until he reached an area low enough to climb. He grabbed hold of the low roof, and in another moment, had swung himself up onto the rotting material. Dangerous business, roof climbing, but if he got high enough, they wouldn’t be able to catch him. He climbed, feeling a bit gleeful as he swung up and out of sight. Let those well-fed servants try to catch him up here!
Elson paused for a moment to catch his breath, swallowing to wet his dry throat. He could still taste that pie.
“Aye, it’s the wee one. Thought ‘e could steal ol’ Bunwyn’s pie, he did. String ‘im up good, lads.”
Elson scrambled away from the grasping hands of Bunwyn’s servants, his heart hammering in his chest. He’d only wanted a little pie. Just a bite. It’d been so long since he’d had any good food. Just scraps and rotten leftovers for him for weeks now. The pie had looked so tasty, and Bunwyn had left it out! It should have been a crime to leave a pie out on a window and expect no one to grab it, ‘specially in a world like this. They’d practically offered it to him!
And now he was in a stitch. The men were circling around him, grinning a little, like the knew Elson didn’t stand a chance. They were probably right, too, but he wasn’t about to make it easy for them. His mother hadn’t taught him much, but she had taught him how to run away, and stay gone. He was good at running, at escaping. Let them try to catch him! Just let them try!
“Give it up, boy. We’ve got yeh surrounded now.” Bunwyn chortled to Elson from his place across the room. He lifted a bit of chicken from his place and bit down into the greasy thigh, taking out a huge chunk of meat to chew. A bit of the meat fell form his mouth, bumping along his beard before it landed on the floor, where Bunwyn’s dog wolfed it down greedily. Elson saw nothing of this, however, as he dodged the grabbing hands of the servants. He didn’t want to be caught, and the quickest way to get caught was to get distracted. His life had also consisted of escaping those that wanted to punish him for one thing or the other. This was a familiar game.
With a small snarl of challenge, he dodged the grabbing hand of a tall, burly man, skittering between the mans legs and out of the ring of servants that had enclosed him. Elson took off in a flying run out of the open door and into the street, Bunwyn’s roar of explicatives hounding his footsteps. Outside of the tavern the streets were filled with people, and Elson thanked the gods for it. It was easier to get lost in a crowd than an open street, and people were less likely to pay attention to a strange boy when they were busy trying to avoid getting knocked over or stepped on by everyone else elbowing their ways through to market. He slipped through the crowd as gently as he could, knowing that the quickest way to get grabbed by a stranger while you were running from other people, was to bump into the person and make them angry. Best to avoid impact when he could.
Soon enough he was out of the crowd and into Hasting’s territory, where the streets were thinner and crooked and filthy, and the homes were leaning into the street, held together by sweat and blood more than anything else. It was a good place to get lost as well, but not nearly as lucky. He was as likely to get picked up by a pimp or a thief down Hasting’s, but it was his best bet. Shouts were rising above the murmur of the crowd behind him, with cries of ‘stop! Thief!’. It wouldn’t be long now before some law-respecting citizen noticed that he was running and made to stop him.
Elson ran faster.
The shouts were getting closer. He shoved down the panic that was tightening his throat and ran for all he was worth until he reached an area low enough to climb. He grabbed hold of the low roof, and in another moment, had swung himself up onto the rotting material. Dangerous business, roof climbing, but if he got high enough, they wouldn’t be able to catch him. He climbed, feeling a bit gleeful as he swung up and out of sight. Let those well-fed servants try to catch him up here!
Elson paused for a moment to catch his breath, swallowing to wet his dry throat. He could still taste that pie.