Oakey ran through the streets, ducking, dodging and swerving around the stalls. Behind them, shouts rang out, piercing through the soft chatter filling the market. "STOP! THIEF!" Oakey rolled their eyes, muttering, "Grumpy old codger. Good-for-nothin' old difra." Oakey tripped over a rather disgruntled ferret, making the royal purple bag in its mouth jingled suspiciously. Without hesitating, she snatched it up and kept on running. They checked behind them and saw a bright yellow line around 20 feet back. They stopped running. An amatuer fruit seller wouldn't dare to cross a gang line.
Oakey looked down at the ferret in her fist which was supposed to be a yellowish color, but was currently more of a brown. "Okay, okay, alright. I get it. I'll send Crow next time." The ferret stopped trying to eat their fingers and began trying to scrabble out of their fist. Oakey gently placed it on their shoulder and began moving again, walking this time and talking to the ferret as they went.
"You know, I really think you're better than Crow for those kinds of missions. You're so much faster and stronger. Not to mention the fact that you fit right in with the Wonko's colors. Okay, yeah, when you're not covered with dirt," – The ferret stopped biting their ear – "And the dirt thing is really inconvenient for everyone. It makes you grumpy and- oh, hold up, here we go." They had stopped at a dilapidated stall, a Clozd sign in front. Oakey leaned in and loudly whispered, "Oi! La-Lo! Back!" and a small grubby face peeped up over the counter. "Oakalicious! C'mon, they're meeting already!" Oakey walked around to the other side of the stall and followed La-Lo through a fairly large crack in the wall behind the stall. Slowly the crack widened into a still kind of small corridor. The intricate tile designs of the market faded into gravel and dirt, followed by the regular appearance of torches at intervals. A few steps after their appearance, the torches disappeared, but then they came out into a large room with a table sitting right in the middle. Several children lined the sides, staring at the mouth of the corridor. When'Oakey entered, a few of them relaxed their tense shoulders, and some tensed their shoulders.
The ferret on their shoulders jumped off onto the table and strutted down it's length like a fashion model. Some of the children clapped. Oakey laughed and walked around the table and took their seat at the farthest end. The moment they sat down, the children started clamoring over each other to be heard.
"Oakey! Raisan hasn't come back yet, and–"
"I'm sorry, but no one's bought from the–"
"Help! Sparrow's got me!"
While his neighbors tried to pry the ferret off his face, Oakey raised a hand for silence.
YOU ARE READING
No Man's Land
ActionIn a world riddled with violence and terror, 11-year-old Oakey is just trying to survive, along with her small gang of other orphaned children. But survival will prove to be more difficult than it had been for the past 5 years.
