Dying Fire

Chapter Five

“The only true wisdom is in

Knowing you know nothing”

~Socrates~

As Araine runs thoughtlessly, Calex’s mind refuses to quieten.

            Every sense is on high alert, the sounds louder, the smells more intoxicating, the people more obvious, the air seemingly thicker, the dryness of his mouth more uncomfortable. His footsteps seem too loud, his breathing too quiet, his eyes too wide, his hair too disheveled despite his attempts to straighten it. The slight curls just won’t obey, even as he runs a hand through them.

            Despite the chill, he’s sweating. He shouldn’t be. He’s stolen many times before, but this is different. This is an old lady’s shop, and he’s breaking into it, prepared to harm her if it comes to that. He hopes she’ll be too busy to notice him. He doesn’t even know the layout of the inside, completely unprepared as to what to expect. The lack of information worries him more than the thought of stealing does.

            With a quick look around to make sure no one in the circle is paying attention to the back door he’s been scouting all morning, he approaches, slipping the newly obtained instruments from his shirt. Inconspicuously, he kneels, putting a small iron sliver with a curved end into the lock in the same movement, and edges his small knife in, attempting to unlock it. He’s heard of others mastering the art of picking locks, that it was difficult, but how different can it be from picking pockets?  

            Task at hand, instruments wiggling, eyebrows scrunched and lips pursed in concentration, the world around him dims for just a moment. Tunnel vision makes the door itself disappear; only the lock exists, ears tuned for the slight click indicating he’s free to enter. It’s more difficult than he thought.

            A tug on the shoulder snaps Calex into action, elbow coming up to hit the chest of a target much taller than what he’s facing: a child, younger than even he is. His arm flies over their head, snapping back as he stares. It’s a girl, wearing a dirty dress much too large for her, dragging on the ground when she backs up, staring up at him with wide eyes. For a moment, they stare at each other, Calex more confused than anything. She’s shaking from attempting to appear brave to this older, mean-looking boy, but he instead perceives it as fear, and chooses to take advantage of it. A helpless child isn’t going to stop him from doing what has to be done. He takes a step closer, hands balled into fists, mustering his most intimidating glare, hoping to simply scare her off, but she doesn’t back down. To his dismay, she tilts her head back to keep eye-contact with him, expression slowly turning into that of determination.

            The thought nearly disgusts him, but he knows that if it comes to it he can and will hurt this little girl, who obviously has no real place to call home and might even be fending for herself in these streets. She could be here begging for food, for all he knows, or a safe place to sleep or both. She could already be going through the worst things Calex couldn’t even imagine. But he has to get medicine for Ione, to give her a better chance at surviving, to ease her pain and mind, to give her a better chance.

            Before he can raise a hand to the girl, however, a male voice cuts the tension. “Caia!”

            Then another voice speaks up, a girl around the same age as the first approaching fast. “Leave her alone! You need to wait like the rest of us, so leave her alone!” A boy taller than Calex follows the girl, a hand on her shoulder, trying to convince her to turn around. They look similar, perhaps siblings. He cuts his eyes at Calex, the glint of a challenge in them, as if he dared the other boy to even think of harming this outspoken girl.