Falling Feathers Book I - Rogue Without Fear

Chapter II

>>> Autumn Rose <<<
    A week had past since Soren brought me to Shepherd's Rest. I had already started calling it home. I hadn't met many of the towns folk, but Soren introduced me to a few of them. We started with Antony, the town's farmer. His farm was at the Southern end of town. He grew crops every season except winter, and had a few animals. On our way back from the farm, Soren and I talked to Peter and Alys, the owners of the Drunken Hog.  They were all pleasant people, very friendly. The fellow who Soren had told me was named Chase dropped by the inn sometimes, but on the few rare occasions when he did come, he said nothing.
    A hand-full of people came and went, and shared their stories with me and Soren. He mostly stayed downstairs, doing things I didn't know, while I stayed upstairs tending to the rooms or staring out the window. Sometimes I would go across the way to the tavern, or down the street to the farm for eggs. But I never forgot what happened to my parents. I didn't let go. I would never let go.
    I never got bored when I worked. I always had something to think about. Just three days ago I noticed my mother's necklace was missing. I was heartbroken. It was the only thing I had left of my parents, and my old life. Deep down inside, I almost didn't feel like myself. I felt like I was a different person here, struggling to fit in. I was a misfit, the stranger.  I was a misfortune for those who were already comfortable. Everyone was going out of their way to try and make me feel comfortable, but in doing so I only felt worse.
    Soren never told me much about the dangerous folk that he claimed to live in town. I began to wonder if it was a lie he told me, to get me to stay. But the more I thought about it, the more I thought about Chase. I've seen him around with them dangerous folk, was what Soren had said. Was that also a lie? No, I thought to myself. Someone couldn't possibly look that dangerous with out actually being that dangerous. He had to be one of them.
    It was late, and the few guests we had were going to their rooms. Work was over, so Soren and I went upstairs. On the way up the stairs, I paused for a moment. Soren, who was behind me, stopped and asked,
"Something wrong, Scarlet?" I could tell by the way he said my name he was slightly annoyed at my stop. I could hear his hand in his pocket again. His hand is always in his pocket, playing with what ever he has in there. I wasn't sure if I actually wanted to know the pocket's contents, I was slightly terrified at the thought of what it could maybe be.  It could be something dangerous. But I had to know. I needed answers.
    "Soren, what is it that you keep in your pocket?" I asked him, turning to face him. I immediately saw that he was scowling. I'd never seen him frown before. It was odd. The frown on his face didn't look at all like it fit. It stood out against the rest of him. His dancing blue eyes, his scruffy blonde hair, stained with dirt and mud. He looked so free and spirited, then when I saw the frown on his face, it looked how a bird without wings might look.
    "Well, I -" Soren paused. He's coming up with a lie to tell me. I knew it. He actually looked a bit frightened. Then, he shook his head at me, and smiled sheepishly. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." This time, I frowned. How does he know that? Maybe he was right, maybe I wouldn't like it. Maybe he wasn't telling the truth, maybe it was a quick lie he said to buy himself more time.  Maybe, maybe, maybe. If I kept thinking of all the things it could possibly be, I would never get my answer. I wanted an answer, not more stalling and lies. I crossed my arms, filled with determination.
    "Excuse me if it isn't my place Soren, but I know you're been lying to me and I won't have it anymore." I licked my lips, then went on.  "Soren, the truth. What do you keep in your pocket?"  I didn't want to sound too prying or rude, but I wanted an answer. I knew I should be more polite, and grateful for the kindness he showed me, but I wasn't sure if any trust I put in him was placed in the right person. If it's nothing bad, he should have nothing to be afraid of. Why won't he tell me? I saw him take his hand out his pocket. His hand was empty, but I knew there had to be something in his pocket. I looked back up to him. He looked deep in thought, staring at the ground. Finally, he looked to me.
    "It is not your place to ask." He growled. I noticed how he sounded hurt, like he wanted to tell me. What's holding him back? If you want to tell me, why don't you?