The trek to the village was unbearable. The large shirt that was once white, was completely brown -- stained by the horrid stench of her father's cigars and the dirt of her unclean home. It was a tattered mess of dying fibers and slowly tearing fabric. It barely hung onto her, slipping from her frail shoulder occasionally. Her trousers were torn, ripped apart as their length now only reached to her battered knees. Her (h/c) hair was completely unkept and her tiny feet were bare.
They burned and blistered with each step, yet the little girl continued on. The pond by her home was completely dried up, the nature surrounded their abandoned shack swallowing it all in order to satiate their thirst. The heat of the sun burned on her, steam visibly bouncing off the road in thick heat waves.
After so many months of no rain, (Y/N) was forced to travel to find the nearest village with a tiny wooden bucket in hand.
The child had ventured through the town. She asked anyone and everyone to spare her a drink. Some looked at her in disgust and turned her away, others who were kind enough informed her that even they didn't have any water.
(Y/N) couldn't help but curse at herself. If only she was a bit older and able to work, she and her mother would be fine. She would take care of her mother, spoil her with all her savings, and perhaps even buy her a house made out of gold if she could.
With no other choice, (Y/N) traveled through the city, going through every well in sight.
She finally stumbles upon one at the edge of town. The well was a simple hold in the ground dug by the bare hands of the desperate, poor folk in the village. It was aligned with stones and a pulley that displayed a simple rope. (Y/N) peeked her head down, finding only a tiny pool of water.
She releases a tiny gasp. Quickly, she ties the rope around the handle of her bucket and drops it into the well. She desperately scoops it up and pulls it up. The water didn't even fill half of her bucket, only gifting her a mere two inches of water. But it didn't matter to her. Her mother wouldn't have to be thirsty anymore, she wouldn't have to continue putting up with her sweltering fever.
(Y/N) unties the bucket and leaps to her feet. With a newfound hope in her heart, the little girl was about to take off running until she collided with a body.
She stumbles back, her eyes landing upon the face of an old man. His skin was burned from the ever-present sun and his body was horribly frail with his ribs peeking through his sides.
"Hand it over," the man rasped out, coughing and hacking as he spoke.
"W-What?" the girl stuttered.
The homeless man seized the handle of her bucket, trying to yank it out of her grasp. But (Y/N) was just as desperate.
"Let go, you old coot!" (Y/N) spat at him. Both parties pull to have the bucket, both desperate for a mere drink.
(Y/N) gritted her teeth, frustration and anger swelling inside her. She reels her foot back and slams it into the man's shin. The old man yelps and he finally lets go.
(Y/N) successfully takes off with the bucket in hand. She never wanted to show her face back in the village again, fearful that she would come across the old man once more. But a tiny part of her felt guilty. He was desperate just like her. Besides, what kind of child would dare to cross a day of land just to find something to drink? Perhaps, she should've rotted away.
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Nightingale
Fanfiction[Yandere! Fathers x Mother! Reader] (Y/N) (L/N) is a songstress. Caught between the war of two powerful nations, her husband dies in battle as the emperor seizes power throughout the peninsula. Now widowed, she is a mother of a young baby girl who i...
