Witch

The Orphanage

He took Lukas through the streets and onto the porch of a short but wide home. It had a few windows that Lukas could see into, especially due to the fact that the sun was just about to wink away from the sky and the candles were lit inside. Lukas saw children's faces of both sexes peering out as they watched the actions of the two boys that were trailing river water behind them. The rescuer of the two knocked on the fitted wooden door and a rather plump woman opened it.

She had a kind but stern face, her once-dark brown hair was streaked with grey and was pulled into a loose bun. Wrinkles were beginning to form on her cheeks, eyes and forehead, and her eyes were a vibrant blue. Her dress was faded and had stains from years of wear and an apron in the same condition tied loosely around her waist. She furrowed her eyebrows at the sight in front of her- one of her orphans and a stranger, both drenched and rather filthy. The woman opened her mouth and inhaled some air to start bellowing questions, but that was before she saw Lukas's many bruises, cuts and scrapes. She ushered the boys in, shutting the door quickly behind them. As soon as Lukas entered the main room of the home -it was more of a remodeled nursing home than anything- he felt at least forty pairs of eyes focus in on him. He tried to pull in on himself, but the boy who had pulled him out of the river was urging him onward as they followed the woman. He spoke to her so quickly and in such a hushed voice that Lukas could not hear, nor understand any of what they were saying.

"I can handle it, it's not that bad."

"Arnesen, he needs more help than just bandaging."

"Na, you take care of everyone else and then come get him."

The woman, "Na" sighed. "Alright, Arnesen. I'll be back in thirty minutes." She then stalked off, ringing a small, hand-held bell as she walked among the children. All of them protested going to bed when something so interesting as an injured stranger was in their presence as they were herded into the hallways. The boy, Arnesen, did not leave, however. Lukas wished he would, it was awkward for him already, seeing as he felt embarrassed at this point.

"My name's Arnesen, by the way." The boy said as he pulled a small box out of the wall. Lukas nodded curtly.

"I assumed as much," he whispered. Arnesen froze when Lukas spoke, but resumed whatever he was doing rather quickly.

"Is that so," he muttered in response. He now exposed what was inside of the box; numerous cloth pieces and a jar of poultice. There was more inside the box, but Arnesen had not seemed to find the rest important at the moment. "Shirt," Arnesen said sternly, holding out his hand. Lukas shot him a baffled look. Arnesen smiled a bit and repeated himself. "Your shirt, take it off. I need to clean your wounds."

Lukas was hesitant, but he slid the shirt up and over his shoulders, handing the rags of what had once been a decent shirt to Arnesen. Arnesen set the shirt down next to him before he put some poultice on his hands and began to rub it on his hands. Lukas winced at Arnesen's hands touched the wounds on his arm, the poultice stinging the cuts and bruises. Lukas bit his lip and did not complain, however.

"So, what's your name? I told you mine, so it's only fair if I know yours too." Arnesen stated as he put more of the poultice on his hands and rubbed it onto Lukas's other wounds. Lukas waited for the immediate pain of the poultice to subside before he answered.

"They call me Lukas." He responded quietly. Arnesen smiled.

"Well, Lukas," he started, pausing as he applied more poultice, "you got yourself beat up awfully good. What did you do to anger them so much?" Arnesen was asking questions to pass the time, but also because he was curious. Lukas, on the other hand, had no initial intention of answering, but it seemed that his answer jumped out of his mouth before he could contain it.