Hemorra pulled her dark hood closer around her head, hurriedly stuffing her stray red curls inside of it. She glanced around, shifting closer to the wall at the leers of the other ruffians occupying the dark alley. She should have been used to it, but they never ceased to unsettle her, especially since she knew just how easy of a target she was. She would have left if she could, but she had to wait.
"Come on, Rae. Where are you?" she murmured anxiously.
Her question was answered soon enough as a slender form entered the alley at a brisk pace with a stride Hemorra would recognize anywhere, hooded just like herself. The figure didn't slow, but she knew what to do, falling in step behind it.
"So? Anything good," she whispered.
"Not now," the other hissed back.
She knew they couldn't see her, but she nodded anyway, swallowing the harsh sting of the words. "Sorry."
"Shh!"
They continued to weave quickly through alleys and backstreets, filled to the brim with questionable characters, until they emerged onto a street only a tad less terrible than the others. They walked down it some way, until they entered a small building they both knew as home. Only then did they remove their hoods.
"Will you tell me now?" Hemorra asked.
"You'll see when I show father," her sister replied, shoving into a small, barren room they called their own.
Hemorra could never help but compare herself to her older sister, Raela. She was everything Hemorra wished she could be. Her sister's short dark hair and slender figure made her the perfect thief--something she was quite skilled at. Hemorra was similarly petit, even more so with her young age, but her unique and wild hair would always give her away. Rae was strong in both form and will, ruthless in getting things done. She never hesitated to do what was necessary, and she was always able to follow through. Hemorra couldn't hurt a fly, even if she wanted to, which she never had. She knew herself to be weak, and she knew that she could never begin to hope to be like her imposing sister. Some days it hardly seemed they were related, if not for the similar grace they both shared.
Hemorra sat down on the rotting floorboards that creaked in protest against her small weight as her sister pulled out a stale half loaf of bread from a small cabinet, splitting two chunks off. She caught one of the chunks her sister tossed to her as she had already begun chewing on her own.
After swallowing a stiff bite, Hemorra broke the silence. "When do you think he'll be back?"
"Soon," was Raela's response, and with that they both continued eating in silence, waiting.
As Hemorra was finishing her last bite,her sister already finished with hers, the door to their shared room opened. Hemorra saw Raela tense and put a hand to her waist, but when they both saw the familiar rugged head of their father, she relaxed.
Hemorra wanted to rush to him, to wrap her arms around him and embrace him, but the last time she had done that, she had been chastised for her volume and told that she was too old for such displays of affection. Her father preferred they not show any affection at all, saying that the streets were no place to get attached, even to family. It was the reason Raela had moved to her knife before she saw it was their father, because they both knew that one day, it might not be.
But even though she could not embrace her father, she gave him a smile, one he did not return. She had never seen him smile. Rae told her he hadn't smiled since their mother died. Instead he gave her a nod of acknowledgement.
"Afternoon girls," he said in his low voice, sitting on the floor opposite of Hemorra with a groan.
His ragged clothes were similar to their own, though he was far more rumpled and dirtied. The years were beginning to show on his once-handsome face, making him even more grizzled in appearance. He was a thief just like them--or more accurately, Raela. He was the one to teach them everything they knew, passing on his one skill that had helped them survive all these years. It was why today was so important.
Rae approached him, dropping a small leather pouch into his lap. Hemorra watched in anticipation as he picked it up and raised a brow.
"What's this?"
"Had a good day in the city, today. Musicians distracted 'em while I did my work," Rae replied coolly.
Hemorra waited for her to credit her for her part in their scheme today. It was the first time her sister had let her come on her thieving escapades, and it was only because she had presented a veritable plan to her. She was the one that knew the musicians would be there. And while they played, she knew she could distract the people further with her attention-grabbing appearance, and Rae would pick the many pockets that looked too full for their own good with no trouble. That was what they agreed on. And by the size of their pouch, it was a good plan, too. But instead of giving her any credit, Rae merely shot her a stony look that told her to keep quiet. And she did, too weak to put up a fight. She again swallowed the sting of betrayal.
It was almost made up for when their father gave a hum of approval as he weighed it in his hand. "Good job. There's a lot in here."
Raela smirked proudly, and even Hemorra smiled a little until her father shifted his gaze to her.
"What did you do today Morra?" he asked, all signs of approval gone.
"She did what she always does, right Morra?" Rae gave her a meaningful look.
She nodded weakly, almost whispering, "Yeah, of course. I tended the garden."
She watched in pain as her father nearly sneered at her. "What good is that garden ever gonna do us? It's a waste of time."
Hemorra frowned. That wasn't true. When the plants gave fruit, they would have more to eat. It wouldn't just be stale bread and other foods they were able nick. They would finally have their very own food, and maybe even be able to sell some of it for a profit. They could quit stealing for everything they needed. That's what she wanted. But she said nothing, only hung her head in shame because she knew it to be a silly and feeble hope, especially to rest on something as ridiculous as a patch of vegetables growing behind an abandoned building.
"Well, what would she do in the meantime?" Rae asked him, giving her a spark of hope until she continued, "She's no good at stealing."
Their father merely grunted in agreement. Hemorra watched through her hair as he pulled his arm back and tucked their pouch securely in his coat, almost gasping at the unmistakable sight of blood on his shirt. She almost though it was his own until she saw that his shirt had no signs of tearing anywhere near that spot. Her stomach turned at the thought of someone else's blood on her father. But before she could think any more on it, his coat once again closed around him, cutting off her view.
"Get some sleep," was all he said before laying down where he sat turning his back to them.
Raela walked to the corner of their small room, picking up their only blanket, worn and riddled with holes. She sat down next to Hemorra, laying beside her, indicating for her to do the same. When she did, Rae wrapped the blanket around them both.
They both laid there in a silence broken only by their father's loud and even breathing, not quite a snore, but something close.
"Why didn't you tell him?" Hemorra asked quietly, knowing her sister was still awake.
Raela sighed. "If he doesn't know you're thieving, you have an excuse to keep that silly garden of yours."
Hemorra realized she was right. How could she have not thought of that? The fact that her sister had only made her feel more inadequate. She wasn't just strong, she was smart, too. Hemorra reached out and held her sister's hand, squeezing it. "Thank you."
She heard her sister sigh again as she pulled her hand out of her own. "You should just focus on that garden. Face it Morra. You were never meant for thieving," she said bitterly.
Hemorra frowned. "But today went well."
"Yes, but you weren't the one picking pockets. All you did was dance."
"But-"
"Go to sleep."
Hemorra snuggled deeper into the threadbare blanket. "Sorry," she whispered, then did as she was told, hoping that someday she wouldn't be a burden to her family.
Before she drifted off completely, she heard her sister speak. "We'll go again tomorrow."
She couldn't help but smile at that.
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YOU ARE READING
The Beast
FantasyThorns are wicked with barbs that ensnare and bleed those foolish enough to come too close. But their presence is often a defense, made to protect that which is lovely and delicate. Could the same not be said of a beast? "When I tell my stories, I'm...