LITTLE star - Ace

#3

Chapter 2

A mad dash

"Have you heard of this man?" Ace asked a woman next to a stand of dried herbs while chewing on a large strip of salted fish he'd snagged from another shop on the way here.

He showed the blonde his chicken scratch handwriting on a blank piece of paper he'd found earlier neatly folded on the side of an empty wooden stand.

"No, sorry," She replied simply, with a shake of her head.

Not one person in this village seemed to know a thing about Wallace D. Fillot. Not Chimi nor villager could help him.

It was as if this man never existed.

"I don't get it," Ace muttered as he dug for another strip of jerky out of his fur pockets. "He has to be here somewhere... Pops wouldn't send me looking for a man who doesn't exist, right?"

He sighed, glancing up at the gently falling snow as it blew flurries onto the browsing crowd. Through the tangles of people and furs, Ace had knocked into about seven more Chimi on his way here. It was taking a lot to remind Ace that there were strange animal people running around.

At least they were cute.

Sliding out of the busy town square, Ace dallied around town, taking his time to watch the oddly shaped, round houses as he passed from under the snow covered pelts above. The lanterns, Ace realised, acted as a kind of naming system for each street. Every singly road had their own iddentifying blue, purple, or green casted light from the translucent paper lanterns hanging from the protective canopy above. It made navigating the mess of tunnels much easier.

To Ace's surprise, it was even warmer along the back streets, the further he got from the merchant areas where igloos and restaurants were farther apart to allow crates, and supplies to be easily hauled in and out of the village, the warmer it got. Around him, the igloos where closer together, taller too as large families laughed and played along the streets.

Up ahead, he saw a group of men hauling large barrels into different houses, the families welcoming them with thank yous and hot chocolate.

A man in passing caught Ace's eye. Scowling ahead was a scowling man, with large white fangs petruding from the sides of his mouth. He towered above the people, a black spotted fur hunter's hat sat over his hard, slanted eyes. The man had unruly blue hair which reached down to his shoulder blades in furry bunches, making him resemble more beast than man. Despite the cold, he wore only a red sleeveless winter coat lined with fur, and thick baggy pants tucked into winter boots, which crunched in the snow with every heavy step the man took. More tribal tattoos ran down his arms, colored blue to match his hair. The lines crept up along the left of his neck and, in an arc, swept across his eye and disappeared under the heavy fur hat.

Despite his height, Ace noticed a slight hunch in his back hidden by his hair as if to make himself appear smaller, mindful of the simple people around him who smiled and waved happily at the icy man.

Adjusting his bag over his shoulder, Ace padded over to the man who was now helping his friends stack barrels of provisions together.

"Yo!" Ace called with a wave.

The man paused, setting one of the heavy barrels back at his feet while his gaze flickered curiously to the young man.

"Can I help you?"

"The name's Ace," He smiled politely. "I'm looking for someone by the name of Wallace D. Fillot. Do you know him?"

He held up the page with the chicken scratch handwriting, and the man stared at it for a long moment, slowly tensing and beginning to clench his hands into tight fists.