Cipa 2

The little light there was glistened wet around his fingers and palm, and ran down to be absorbed by the fabric around his wrists, slowly, slowly.

Aphen stared in horror. She felt a tremor in her own hand, his looked like it hurt so much. But the boy did not appear to be phased. He was disarmingly calm.

“It’s going to get infected,” he said. He leaned against a damp concrete wall. “And then I’ll die… Do you know where I could get any bandages?”

“No.” Aphen said. She breathed…

Out. Out, out out, she needed to get out of here, and this…

“I have some,” she said.

She’d sneak off as soon as he was asleep.

The boy hesitated a moment, obviously confused by the gesture. He looked from his hand to straight at her, and back again.

“Okay. Thank you,” he said finally. And then, “There’s a shed a mile or so from here. We should hurry… all the worst packs come out at night.” As if to emphasize this statement, he looked nervously through the entrance to the alleyway, and it made Aphen nervous too, like anxiety was a contagious disease.

It occurred to her that if this person, whoever he was, felt anxiety, if he had emotions, then he did feel pain, of some sort. He was human.

That made her feel a little bit better.

He started out of the alley without looking behind him, as if he expected her to follow without any other questions. He walked briskly so that Happen, stocky and small for her age, had to take an extra skip every so often to keep up. He seemed to know where he was going so well, and so self-assured, and she couldn’t recall when anyone she’d encountered in Ryns had been like that- It just didn’t happen. The entire city was a labyrinth, notoriously impossible to navigate without a compass, and yet this stranger, this young boy who proclaimed he wasn’t even from around here, he was doing it. His hands were empty at his sides, one dripping on the street and the other in a thin, deep pocket. No compass, or any other possessions, for that matter. He didn’t even appear to be looking for anything but the damp cobblestoned ground- no signals to tell him about where he was.

He took turns sporadically, wide streets and narrow alike, lighted and unlighted by street lamps. Several times he backed out from an alley, seemingly at random and without change in speed, as if he knew that a dead end was there in the first place. If Aphen weren’t as unsure of him as she was, she would have asked why. But she was unsure.

Finally they reached a break in the infrastructure, stepping into a mud-soaked clearing, where the cobblestones thinned out into dirt, and the boy slowed, lifting his head from his even staring at the ground. He surveyed the area quickly, searchingly, his arms coiled at his sides, and Apha winced inwardly when she realized his hand was leaving dark imprints on his shirt when he touched it. She hadn’t realized the wound she had inflicted was that deep.

“Hurry,” She said softly, in spite of herself.

The boy looked at her then, for the first time since he caught her, and for the first time,

She realized that his eyes were black, black holes in his skull, no reflected light in them- for there was none to be reflected. It gave Apha shivers, and she felt another sharp pang of homesickness. No stars in that blackness.

The way he cocked his head, though, and the way his eyebrows drew together curiously, made him look as innocent as the moment when Apha first decided to trust him.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Nobody threatening is in the area right now. No major packs for a couple of miles.”

“I mean your hand,” Apha said. “It looks like it...it’s bleeding pretty bad.”

The boy shrugged. “It’s fine. You’d be surprised at how much blood you can store in one human being. I have a lot left, I’m sure.”

“Doesn’t… doesn’t it…”

“Hurt.” he finished. “No. It does not hurt. I told you. It doesn’t hurt.” He paused.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “You didn’t hurt me, and I’m not going to die. Look, there’s the shed I told you about. And the door’s open, too.”

He started to run towards something Apha couldn’t see, but still she followed him. Her boots were dragged down by the mud and slowed her down, evidently more than who she was tagging.

“Do you not feel exhaustion, either?” she asked, panting now to keep up.

He laughed.“No.”

“ You don’t get tired?”

“No, no. I do. Shed?”

She nodded, even though she was sure the gesture wasn't perceivable in the shadow of the buildings around the clearing. But the boy didn't ask for confirmation before he stepped into the void of an small open doorway.

Note to reviewers- please don't nitpick this. The only criticisms I'd like to receive are those that improve my writing. Other then that... hit me with them. Smash me. Make me better.

:) 

I hoped you liked part 2, anyway, and aren't just clicking on this to get points.