Two Tattlers Who Managed To Escape

2. Reunion

Pov: Yohi

Everything turned out quite well, and maybe, just maybe, my life is getting back on track... Right now, I'm on the brink of poverty, but I've managed to land a decent job at a bakery, and I should have enough money for lodging at this modest hotel until I get my paycheck, so things might just turn out fine. Besides, I manage to sneak a couple of pastries during work, which means I spend less on food, though if I get caught — it'll be very bad! But, probably, the bakery owner will forgive me. Despite my negative associations and memories linked to her name, associated with a certain town resident, she's a very kind woman. Seeing my situation, namely my poverty, she took me in and offered me a decent salary, even though my work experience is non-existent. Yes, I lied about my age to improve my chances of being hired, but I just have to hold out until September to be of age, which means waiting for 3 months, and the world won't collapse because of my lie.

— Oh, it's time to head home! — the gentle voice of my employer, Sweet Ann, coming out of the kitchen, said, — Have you cleaned up, Yohi?

— Yes... — I replied, putting the broom back in the closet and taking off my white apron, — Have a good day... see you tomorrow.

— Bye-bye! — waving her hand, the woman said, after which I opened the front door, which hit the bell on it, producing the all-too-familiar ring that I was already tired of, and stepped out onto the street.

It was late evening, but since summer had already started, it was quite light outside, and people were walking around the town. Breathing in the fresh air of the street, I turned towards the hotel where I was staying and, without hurrying, moved forward. Suddenly, my gaze caught a familiar figure. My young runaway brother — Oliver, whom I hadn't seen for 4 days, was cautiously walking along the street, looking around. His hair was messy, his face and clothes were smeared with dirt, and his gaze expressed tiredness and despair. In an instant, he slipped past a passerby like a shadow, and his hand swiftly grabbed a pouch hanging from the unsuspecting man's belt, and by the sound of it, it was easy to tell there was money inside.

The man, initially confused, realized what had happened after a couple of seconds and shouted:

— Thief! Catch him! — his voice piercingly cut through the evening silence. Oliver, like a hunter who had become the prey, dashed off, his steps becoming much faster and more confident, but his face turned pale with fear.

The passersby were not particularly keen to intervene, but there was one red-haired boy, with scars on his face and arm, about 13 years old, walking next to a pink-haired woman, who, presumably, was his mother. He abruptly stretched out his cane right in front of Oli's feet, and he, unable to react in time, tripped and fell to the ground, still clutching the stolen pouch.

Passersby, whispering and pointing fingers at the scene, didn't stop; they just glanced over, only the pouch's owner and a couple of his friends approached Oliver, intending to teach the young thief a lesson. They grabbed him by his soft, light hair, lifted him to his feet, and one of the men harshly kneed the boy in the stomach, forcing him to cough up the money pouch and accidentally spurt droplets of saliva. But the men stopped there, as Oliver was still young, and although his deed warranted punishment, no one wanted to cause him serious harm.

Oliver was roughly tossed aside, and the men, picking up the pouch from the ground, returned to their conversations, walking away from the boy. He just continued to lie on the ground, curled up into a ball, shaking and coughing quietly. I stood, frozen from shock, watching him all this time. He was my enemy, but despite everything that had happened between us, I couldn't leave him in such a state.

I forced my legs to move towards him. As I approached Oliver, he was still lying on the ground, his eyes nearly closed, and his breathing was ragged. I knelt beside him and carefully picked him up, pressing his face to my shoulder. I wasn't particularly strong, and Oliver was already 12, but his build was quite slender, so he was lighter than I expected...