Drawn Blades

Chapter 8

            My entire shack is pitch black. The only way for me to see my surroundings is through my training of night vision and relying on other senses. It's boiling hot tonight, impossible for me to even become tired. I wish I could have some sort of air conditioning, but I barely even have enough space for electricity required appliances. The only things in my house that requires to be plugged in are the fridge, and my hot plates and scales for potion making. My oven is gas so it definitely doesn't need electricity, it doesn't even have a little screen with a clock or anything that shows the temperature inside. Plus I wash my dishes by hand, so unlike other homes, I don't have a dishwasher. Not like it matters anyway, I don't eat enough to make dishes.

My stomach rumbles at the thought of food but I push it back down. The muscles that I've once had have shrunk to mere twigs, my bones peeking out from my thin layer of skin. I used to hate having fat on my body, I'd always squeeze my stomach and feel empty or hideous. Though I did enjoy the sight of my muscles and how powerful I felt with my strength. Now all I want is to have meat on my bones again, I want to be able to eat like I used to. But I shouldn't give into cravings or greed, greed will just end up turning me into a wild animal, or arrogant and selfish. Though I did get to eat a little bit last night when I had dinner with Mrs. Runsin and her children. It's amazing that I didn't end up throwing up.

The ground rumbles below me, the floor of my shack scalding hot. Cheers and shouts of cowboys, as well as the booming of hooves grow louder and louder the closer they get to my home. I doubt they're bandits, sure they're shouting and behaving like bandits, but they sound more like a drunken group of friends than a wild line up of criminals.

The ground slowly becomes still once more and the rowdiness lowers to complete silence. Taking a deep breath, I make my way outside, partially hoping that the outdoors will somehow be cooler than inside. Considering that I'm leaving in two days, it's extremely likely that the World Wanderer guy is up and preparing. Especially in this heat I sincerely doubt that he'd be able to sleep either, unless they have air conditioning on the ship, though I'm pretty sure that's impossible.

The hot wind blows into my face like a heater set to the maximum. It burns my eyes and dries my skin, smelling like horse shit and dead animals. I'm sure that once I get to running then it'll be easy to cool down and get the putrid stench away from my nostrils.

Stretching from side-to-side, I take a deep breath and roll my ankles, reaching down and touching my toes with ease. I've been trained to be as flexible as possible without having to sacrifice any of my ribs, sometimes I'm even still amazed by my flexibility. Especially since I haven't been forced to do the daily stretches since I graduated. It's good that my body is still able to maintain this much exercise, any average human would be either bed-ridden or dead. Though I should definitely start eating more, it's not going to be long before all of those nutrient pills they gave me for years wear off.

Whatever, that's future me's problem.

Stomping my feet into the ground, I take a few shallow breaths, making sure that none of my muscles are sore. Then, focusing all of my strength into my feet, I blast off from the ground, sprinting down the dirt roads, focusing on the mental map I have created from my shack to the docks.

My lungs burn and eyes water with my increasing speed. At this rate I should be at the docks in around two hours. Luckily, based on the last time I tested myself, I can run up to at least five hours straight. It won't be long before I probably won't be able to run at most a minute before crumbling into dust, hopefully I'll get a good source of food on the ship for my trip. Anything would be better than my current diet.