The Fire Child's Gem (Chapter 1)

by Zoe in a land of daydreams (which my teachers say I visit too often)

Azara awoke with the sun hardly shining, but shining all the same, the air cool against her face with the smell of fresh rain. She sat propped against a brick wall in an ally, not far from the stands set upon the streets selling their goods, but far enough. The cloak was still wrapped tightly around her, but the hood was down. Dark hair spilled out, reaching just past her shoulders, and she looked innocent after just waking. The inoccence would fade, but just then it was there, etched into her body. She yawned and rubbed her eyes, remembering the last night's events as she shivered and stood. The dirt was soft with moisture from the rain, and so were the feeble shoots of grass growing where the dirt cracked, where the ground split as if a minuture earthquake had shaken the world where ants dwell.

It was still dawn, but early enough so that the stands were setting up on the broad street near the ally where Azara had slept. She stretched herself before walking, almost silent, against the ground. She brushed her hand through her hair, and specks of blood came out on her hand. That was when she remembered the events of the night before, and she closed her mouth in anger, jaw clamped tightly as she walked, for minutes, before pulling her hood up over her hair and emerging onto the busy street where the stands were set up. It was a wonderful sight, the market stretching for near a mile, venders sitting at their stands and selling goods, jewlery and food. Food.

Azara resisted the urge to pile herself against the food stands and stuff her cheeks. It had been three days since she had eaten, or perhaps more. At the bar she had resisted the urge to eat, set on winning, getting what she needed... yet it had not happened.

She shook all thoughts from her brain, and shielded herself from her emotions. She had to concentrate, to focus on what she needed to do, to-

But what was it that she needed to do? What was it that she wanted, needed to accomplish? Nothing, other than the mission she had failed last night. There was only her hunger, her poverty, the fact that she was all alone in a cruel world. The fact she needed that gem, but it would have to wait.

For now, Azara decided, it was only important she ate. She was without money though, there was not so much as a penny in her cloak. She grimaced and strode through the street, glancing at stands, until her hunger had control over her. She would die if she did not eat, and she would not die. Couldn't. Not yet. Not without-

She spotted fresh apples upon a stand near her, the fat vender advertising them. He shouted and looked as if he might blow up with all his shouting, burst into flames and still be selling those apples. Did he not realise apples were not important in the grand scheme of things?

Azara soon came to realise they were important, or to her. But penninless as she was she could not buy them. So she had to-

She did not know what she was doing. She had nicked the apple before she could think, and it appeared the vender did not notice, with all the service he was getting. Azara wanted to slap that broad smile off his chubby face, slap each and every wrinkle so that they pulsed, but she did not, just stole away letting the nourishing juices of the apple fill her.

Before long she had eaten all the apple, every single bit she could, so that the core was shrivled and stripped of juice. Azara was hunched over, frightened that someone would realise her crime, but no one did. She tossed the apple core to the middle of the street, where a stray dogsniffed it before being chased away by the stones of a vender selling cows.

Without getting caught Azara stole several more foods, trying not to test her luck, but unable to help it. She needed food, and with it spread in front of her she could not resist it. She kept telling herself she would get caught, but that did not stop her.

By evening she was full. Full. Such a nice word, such a nice feeling. Her mission though, was not done, and she would not rest until it was. She would have to go back to that bar, face Jim again, and get beaten...

No. She would win. She had to. She reached for her knife at her belt, and sighed, remembering that Jim had taken it last night. Why? Why was she failing?

She back-tracked through the town, not stopping, heading to the bar. She would have to go back. Soon. The sun was setting over the old brick buildings, and she would have to rest, to sleep.

She managed to find another ally, even more discrete, and settled into it, lying against the ground, and letting sleep come easily, ignoring the chilling cold. Tonight would not be her last, but Azara knew it could. Any night could.

She slept, and in her dreams were two peolple, smiling, happy, and loving. Loving her. A great thing she felt only in her dreams.