The Tales of Andora

"The Guardians" by Chesnie Keeler-Chapter Two

The streets of the town are conglomerated with many citizens buying from the local bazaars. The smell of smoked meats and grilled vegetables mingles through the air—a delicacy in this town. Many women hold the hands of their children, some even carry them, and meander through the market. A few children dash through the streets, running with purpose, skittering through the crevices of the tightly enclosed crowd, and suddenly, one of the children pummels into my torso, almost knocking me to the ground! I catch the child quickly, seizing him into the grips of my hands. He struggles to get away, but I hold him steadfastly. He then gives in and stops squirming. Days of gritty sand and grimy filth is strewn through his foul and disheveled hair, matting several substantial strands together into a feculent mess. The child, hesitatingly, presses his eyes upon my face. His tunic is filled with luxurious fruits and nuts—things that commoners are almost never able to afford.

"Stealing again?" I ask as I kneel in front of him. "Your mom's gonna kill you if she finds out."

"We need it!" he says, tears soaking his soiled face and leaving streaks of clean skin.

"Yeah, but it's not right, Daniel. You have to be honorable. Give it back or you'll never get into the refinery again. I mean it," I whisper. "We'll make sure you and your family have food." I spring onto my toes and I shove Daniel back to the stand. The owner looks at Daniel with reprimanding eyes, but the sight of tears softened the blow.

"Forgive me, sir," I say. "He won't put his sticky fingers where they don't belong again. Isn't that right?" I say. Daniel rubs his food in the red clay dirt and I pinch his neck.

"I ain't gonna steal anymore. I promise!" Daniel says, chagrined to be coerced into an apology.

"I hope you mean it," I say as I unload his tunic.

"Let's hope he does. Other places would have your hands if you stole from them. Reality isn't as kind as me," the old man says. Daniel nods. I place my hand around his shoulder and lead him away.

"What's gotten into you?" I ask.

"Nothing. I—. Nothing," Daniel says.

"Just because no one is actively guarding the town today doesn't mean that you have the opportunity to steal. On a Sunday at that," I say.

"Stealing ain't any less bad on a Sunday," Daniel says.

"I know, but it's the principle of the matter. Your record's got be clean. Otherwise you'll never be able to go into the Trial when you're older. I'm not always going to be around to help you out," I say. "Promise me you'll stay out of trouble."

"Only when my mom gets better," Daniel says. "Don't look good. When she dies, I'll be a orphan. And I don't know what I'm gonna do."

"Stay strong, that's what you'll do," I say. "I have to get home. You stay out of trouble, hear me?" I say as I walk off, turning my back to him.

"Mira," Daniel calls, I turn around.

"Yeah?" I ask.

"Why don't you ever come to Fane anymore?" Daniel asks. Conviction rushes through my veins, imbedding itself in my heart. I didn't expect for him to ask me that question. A ten-year-old would never understand the circumstances. "You wasn't there this morning. And the adults talk. 'Specially with your daddy being who he is."

"It doesn't matter. That doesn't mean I'm any less devoted than the rest of you," I say, my tongue varnished in lies and suffused with guilt, but I sustain my smile. "Keep going and worshipping like you're supposed to. You'll be rewarded one day." I embrace Daniel and then dart off to the house.