Dove wandered through the bustling marketplaces, his heart was heavy with the weight of the curious stares thrown his way. He wondered if the people sensed his inner turmoil, the constant struggle to find his place in the city he called home.
Dove yearned for a sense of belonging, a connection to the vibrant tapestry of Kestramore. He wanted to make a difference, to leave a lasting impact on the lives of its inhabitants. Yet, amidst the peculiar stares, he couldn't help but wonder if he would ever find his true purpose in this enigmatic city of mystery and enchantment.
To understand the problem better, he checked out his reflection in a small puddle nearby.
Warmth tinged his cheeks as he adjusted the dark red satin cloak, ensuring it draped securely over his shoulders. His attention to detail reflected a desire for composure, even amidst the peculiar stares.
He bit his bottom lip, something he did when he felt anxious, his gaze fell over his dark pants encasing his legs and rested at the curve of his hips casually. He fidgeted with a leather belt holding the fabric flush against his skin.
He swallowed thickly as his eyes trailed ahead captivated by the beauty of his city.
Kestramore was the heart of Cascadia; it was known as the city of mystery, the city of enchantment, and the place where the market thrived.
The city was bustling and life was good.
The marketplace was bustling with energy, all the vendors had done a marvelous job decorating stalls. They were calling out random customers from the streets and persuading them to buy from their shops.
The marketplace sold anything and everything from daily rations to the most exotic perfume scents and exquisite pearls.
A smile graced Dove's face as he observed the people bustling around him. His attention was drawn to a captivating painting in a nearby gallery booth. In the artwork, a cluster of birds engaged in a struggle over a sunlit, glistening fragment of food. The scene unfolded, revealing intricate detailsâa tapestry of forests, lofty mountains, cascading waterfalls, ethereal clouds in the vast sky, men traversing hilly paths, and birds soaring through the air.
The painter stepped closer, pointing towards the painting. "Sir, behold this fine piece of art, tailor-made for someone like you. I offer it to you for a mere ten bronze kruches, my best offer!"
Dove peeked closely at the painting when he heard soft sniffling. He was momentarily distracted and wanted to find the source of this sound. As Dove stepped outside the stall, the painter begged him to return promising a further discount on the price, and then cursed at the thought of losing a potential customer.
Dove edged closer to a dark alley. He drew up his cloak closer and adjusted it, sheltering the top of his head when something caught his eye. He crept forward, frightened but curious. "Hello?"
He moved closer. He made a disgusted face when he accidentally stepped into a slimy trash. "Is someone there? Don't worry, I'm only here to help, I won't hurt you."
Two small kids barely over five crept out from the trash barrels, probably siblings. The boy, who looked younger, was weeping. His sister stepped forward and pulled her tattered hijab a little tighter, like a nervous habit, like she was fidgeting.
Their fear stirred his compassion. He noticed that they were afraid of the people around them.
Dove knelt on the floor and leaned in closer towards the little boy who still kept sniffling while clutching his sister's hand and hiding behind her.
Dove knelt down, his voice gentle as he asked, "Little ones, where are your parents?" His heart ached as he realized the answer they might give.
The girl looked down and answered a beat later, "We don't have them."
'So they're like me.'
"Why is he crying?" he asked again, trying to be gentle enough to put the girl at ease.
"He's hungry. We haven't eaten anything since yesterday morning." The girl spoke.
A surge of empathy washed over Dove, intertwining with his own memories of loneliness and longing. He patted the girl's hand, his touch offering a glimmer of comfort. "Stay here. I'll be back with some food and water," he reassured them, determined to alleviate their hunger and provide solace in the midst of their fear.
As he ran through the bustling marketplace, his thoughts lingered on the children's vulnerability and the harsh reality they faced. He knew he couldn't turn a blind eye, compelled by his own compassion to make a difference in their lives, however small.
He picked up three loaves of bread and a pouch full of water. He slid his fingers into his pockets only to find it empty.
"Have I really used up all my savings?" He thought.
The storekeeper kept eyeing him angrily. His people weren't aware of his identity, thanks went to his darling stepmother.
The kids' faces flashed through his mind, scared, lonely, and fear-stricken. Without hesitating, he removed his gold earrings and handed them to the store owner who stared at him with wide eyes.
Without hesitating further he retrieved the bag of gold kruches, exclusive to only royals and the higher society members, and gave two of the kruches to the shopkeeper.
The shopkeeper's eyes widened in an enquiring gaze but he remained silent as he was aware that Dove was offering him something way valuable for a mere water pouch and bread loaves.
He picked up the loaf of bread and the water sack and placed them carefully inside a cloth bag.
When someone behind him yelled, "Stop him!"
'Oh no, maybe someone saw the bag? Will I get mugged?'
A few well-built local thugs had gathered around the shop. They stalked forwards slowly, swords, axes, and daggers all ready in their hands.
He looked back at the thugs and cursed under his breath and started running.
He tried, to be sure, to run in a definite direction, but the paths twisted back and forth so strangely! One moment he was running near the marketplace, the next he found himself obscured under a pile of clothes near the textile stall, but that didn't do him much good. So he left the market. Then he ran into an alley and hid beneath a pile of clothes. He rolled and wiggled trying to unwrap the pieces of fabric from him. But his luck seemed to be running out as he heard their footsteps.
"There he is!" One of them yelled.
He eventually freed himself and scrambled up a silk carpet from the pile and wrapped it around himself, still clutching the cloth bag in his hand. Unfortunately, a strong gust of wind blew away the scarf.
Nearby, a few women stood by watching the scene. The youngest one adjusted her scarf, and when her eyes fell on Dove, a light scarlet color popped over her cheeks.
But once they saw the commotion and a band of thugs marching behind Dove, they hastily fled from the scene.
One of the thugs launched forward and swung his sword at Dove. He dodged just in time for the sword to jab the barrel of fish, splintering the wood and spilling its sticky, slimy contents. The unpleasant stench diffused with the air.
One of the thugs slipped and fell on the other which led to a small fight. Eventually, the chaos spread like wildfire.
Dove gathered up some rocks from the street, squinted his eye to get a better look, and aimed at his attackers. Some of the rocks hit while some missed, but it was safe to say that he had succeeded in adding to the chaos. The guards were distracted and were fighting within themselves.
Not wasting his chance, Dove ran. He raced away blindly, not stopping until he realized he'd left the city behind and entered a forest.
The whole forest, with its trunks and branches, its thickets and fallen logs, closed in upon him like an impenetrable prison from which he could never escape.
Darkness was already descending over the forest. This increased the danger and also increased his gloom and despair. Finally, he saw no way out, and he sank to the ground, tired to death.
Once he'd caught his breath, he placed the cloth bag on his lap inspecting its contents. He ought to do something about the children on the streets. The kids he saw earlier had developed a sick yellowish pallor; they looked emaciated.
Just then, he heard a sound. A twig snapped in the distance. He scrambled to his feet and decided to look for a place to temporarily hide in. He leaped up.
'Time to find a hiding place.'
But it was too late. The thugs emerged from the shadow. He was outmatched three-to-one.
"Restrain him and bring him to me," their dark-haired leader growled. "You're done running, pretty boy."
Frankly and woefully unprepared, Dove removed the dagger he had hidden in the folds of his clothing. With all the courage he could muster, he brandished the dagger; some of the thugs gasped while some shrieked with laughter.
Two guards simultaneously charged at him, causing Dove to step backward and the guards to stumble over each other.
Dove sliced a vine hanging from a nearby tree and aimed it at the thugs located adjacent to him. He swung it forward with full momentum, effectively binding them together.
He saw the leader glaring at him and racing forward to attack, but he lost his footing, and his perfectly synchronized motion was lost.
The leader immediately grabbed Dove's wrists with one hand and his chin with the other, propelling his body closer toward him.
"I've been waiting for this to happen for a long time."
A/N
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