Scout Stories: Bruised Beginnings

Old Friends

The apple-seller was a woman in her early forties. She had trails of white in her blond hair that she wasn't doing too good a job of hiding. Several wooden charms hung from leather and twine straps at her neck and even more were wrapped around her wrist. She had wrapped a ribbon around the middle of her boot and that had a silver charm.

Cuno hadn't noticed that one when he was talking to her earlier. If he had he might have avoided the woman in case it had affected him. The only reason he spotted it now was because he was doing nothing but watching the woman.

She was talking to a couple of boys and the woman they were travelling with. She wasn't trying to sell to them, judging by how she poked one of the boys when he was rude to her and admired the material on the woman's skirt. She gave them a couple of apples but Cuno didn't see her take any payment for them.

She looked fine. She wasn't limping and didn't seem any paler or less chatty than the last time Cuno had seen her. He couldn't stay hiding behind a tree for much longer. Someone was bound to see him soon enough and the last thing he needed was to be accused of being a pervert. Cuno took the time to take one last look at her smiling face and walked off before she spotted him.

He could stop to mend the glove. It was rsky leaving it as it was, but he had even less time than he had before his pointless backtracking. Still, a slow smile still spread across his face. He wanted to stop and enjoy the sensation. Unfortunately, he still had a job to do. He thought about it until he saw the town. The he stopping thinking and starting running. He needed to make it through the gates before the guards finished closing them.

He had to rush to get back to make it on time and he still couldn't believe that he had made such a stupid mistake. So he jogged back along the path at a brisk pace. He glanced at the rip in the glove again. It must have happened after he had spoken with her. He hadn't eaten anything since the apple, the core of which he had thrown off to the side. He had broken a small twig off a tree to pick his teeth with after it. That must have been when the glove ripped. He should have known better.

It was an awful habit to have. How many times had he gotten splinters by doing that? Sometimes those little sticks were sharp enough to cut his gums. Why didn't he think that one day they might rip the thin fabric covering his hands. Thinking about it made him rub his tongue across the front of them. It wasn't the cleverest thing to do while running. He ended up biting his tongue.

Cuno cursed and wondered how the day had turned so rotten. A few seconds later the gate of the village came into view, just in time for him to see the gate start to close.