The Lion's Share
Itâs a man, or something like one. A small tengu in dark wings and a darker coat that gives its body a round, soft shape. Pipe smoke rolls out in sparks of color, the sunset fade of its clothes and hat-tassels stark against the encroaching night.
TW- Child abandonment, implied human trafficking, past child neglect, non-graphic violence.
Content- Hurt comfort, slice of life, nonbinary child pov, the horror of being stuck in a farmer's market with a chinese grandpa AND a mexican grandpa
Screen reader's note: Contains passages in Hokkien english, Spanish. Use of gender neutral it/they pronouns.
You're at the beginning.
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Kelpies don't deal in children.
Too tender. Too bony. Too small. Such pitiful meat for all too much effort that would be better spared on a full sized drowned. Besides, children- and their parents- make for very sore losers.
It's just bad sport.
But this particular kelpie, it seems, doesn't care much for sport. Not enough to keep refusing Lynel's request to substitute their mother's life with their own after she wagered too much to walk away from.
Thatâs how it always starts. A wager- a wager of a waterhorse, and whatever dumb motherfucker is desperate enough to bet their own living meat for coin.
(Like Mother did.)
Itâs- itâs a fair trade, is what it is. One life for another. Their little brothers still need Mother to come back home tomorrow, and she'll have one less mouth to feed. It's not like Lynel really regrets the whole thing. They just hope they'll at least get to go to bed first. Or have some food. Dead people are supposed to get last meals, or something like that.
(Lynel isnât counting on it.)
It's nightfall now, and it seems like this kelpie isnât interested in making an easy meal out of the night creatures thatâll be crawling out of the woodwork soon. Lynel supposes thatâs fair. If they had a choice between eating zombies and literally anything else, theyâd go for the latter. Besides, the kelpie had been kicking up that big fuss earlier about not wanting to get their nice clothes ruined. Theyâre barely even willing to touch Lynel at all. In the growing darkness, their presence is reduced to nothing but a clawed hand digging into Lynelâs shirt.
The kelpieâs grip spasms. They turn around, an irritated snarl pulling against their too-long lips as they pull Lynel closer. âBusiness is closed. There are no more refunds.â
âNa?â A figure steps out into the fading light. âWhat refund do yâ think I might be de-mandinâ? Thatâs no child oâ mine.â
Itâs a man, or something like one. A small tengu in dark wings and a darker coat that gives its body a round, soft shape. Pipe smoke rolls out in sparks of color, the sunset fade of its clothes and hat-tassels stark against the encroaching night.
The kelpie snorts disdainfully. âThereâs always some bleeding heart that wants to beg for my debtors.â Their clawed hand clenches down on Lynelâs shoulder. âThis whole night has been a waste of time. Let me pass before the locals think I have a taste for bad meat.â
The tenguâs smile turns sharp, flat. âOh, I donât plan to beg, le. Iâll trade you fair and square.â
The tengu takes off its coat, arms rolling with the movement of its wings as it shrugs the fabric off its body. But the soft bright hues of its shirt does fuck all to hide its full chest, broad shoulders, and powerful arms- thereâs a lithe, practiced ease to its movements, and the stark black feathers around its wings and face glint like copper and gold, the warm tones singing with a soft richness of magic.
The kelpieâs defensive sneer shifts with perked ears and a sickeningly curious head tilt. The disdainful curl of their mouth warps into this leering softness, frightening and hungry, and for some reason, it feels like that's exactly what the tengu wants.
âShuai ge, hereâs whatâs gonna happen.â The tenguâs head jerks to the dock. âWeâre takin' that last ride outta town, and you anâ I are gonna play an ea-sy game oâ cards. Hao le ma?â
âIn exchange for the child, I imagine,â the kelpie teases.
The tengu lets out a coy hum. âI think you wouldnât mind too terr-i-bly if we let âem go either way.â
âThat remains to be seen.â
Lynel hears the click of the tenguâs cane as they walk up to the incoming ship. Itâs an odd thing to have. The tengu sounds⊠not young, really, but not quite old enough to be needing a cane, especially with that all too literal skip in its bouncing step.
It's hard to keep track of the details after that. Lynel never really had time to play those kind of games, and it's not like they can see what the two are playing anyways.
What's so special about kelpie games, anyway? The only two endings are getting a boatload of money or just dying. Why did Mother even need money so bad in the first place? Everything was fine before she got so paranoid. But no, she'd packed off while all Lynel's little brothers were out for school, and Lynel had been stupid enough to follow her.
Stupid enough to take her place. Stupid, stupid, stupid. If only they'd been a little less tired, a little less hungry. What was even the last thing Lynel ate? A corn chip. Their last meal on this godforsaken earth is a corn chip. That's what they'll be dying for, a single corn chip-
âOh, you thieving little MAGPIE-â
Lynel barely has time to flinch as the kelpie surges across the table, clawed arms lunging forward to pin the tengu against the wall. But itâs the kelpie that looks threatened, not the tengu- the kelpieâs fine suit is disheveled with rage, while the tengu limply leans against the wooden surface with a languid smile and laughs. The motion pulls against the red markings on the edge of its eyes like a delighted, blood-tinged squint.
Sightmarks. The tenguâs an honest-to-Ortet diviner.
âYâ really didnât see what was on my face from the be-ginning?â The tengu tilts its shadowed head, letting out a coy sound. âKe ai, le.â
âMost people who want to try their luck know better than to cheat,â the kelpie growls.
âI said itâd be easy,â the tengu laboriously articulates. âI didnât say itâd be easy for you.â Its eyes flick back to Lynel, the first hint of nervousness itâs dared to show this entire round. âAnâ I know you ainât fixinâ tâ keep the child an-y-ways. Yâknow what happens to kelpies that start puttinâ young meat on their ledgers.â
The kelpie relinquishes their hold, like the touch of the tenguâs body burns. âBloody fucking fortune tellers.â
The kelpie starts to leave the room. Lynel shakily gets up to their feet. âWait, wait-â They trail after the kelpie uneasily, following them onto the deck. âWhatâs going to happen to me?â
âWhat do I care?â the kelpie rhetorically asks as they walk off the edge of the boat. âHave a life, human child.â
âBut-â
The water splashes. Lynel and the tengu watch the damp shadow of the kelpie disappear.
After a moment, the tengu lets out a loud wheezing sound, chest suddenly heaving with clicking, rattling breaths.
âAiyo.â A sturdy, red-taloned arm braces across its chest. âKiasi le.â It looks down at Lynel with a worn smile. âGood tâ see that one leave, eh? Big man with their big words.â
âWhy are you acting so scared all the sudden?â Lynel sputters. âIâm the one that was gonna get eaten!â
The tengu frowns. âGin na, I donât want you to be eaten le. Wo hui ben si le, ma? Whole time, Iâm tryinâ to get that one away from you. Why else dâya reckon Iâd get so close to a water horse?â
Lynel can barely understand half the words coming out of the tenguâs mouth, and maybe it shows, because the tengu freezes in place a little bit and slows its next words. Itâs a nice thought, probably, but it really just points out that the guy is barely moving its mouth when it talks, and itâs kind of creepy.
âYou gave yourself away, yes?â the tengu slowly asks. Lynel nods, and the tengu mirrors the motion. âThat okay, le. You are not in trou-ble. Too young. Is there someone I can give you back to?â
âMy- my mother brought me here,â Lynel haltingly answers.
The tengu closes its eyes and takes a deep breath. âIf I take you tâ your mother, she wants you back?â
âOf course she does!â Lynel shouts. âIt werenât her fault!â
The tengu raises its hands. âOkay le! Okay. Then I take you home, okay?â
Lynel nods. Itâll be fine. Theyâll go home and be done with it and be fine.
=[]=
It was not, in fact, fine.
Things were so not-fine, in fact, that Lynel ended up never really going home at all. Because they didnât want to go home anymore, ever again.
Thatâs how not-fine it is.
Fadir Ravenslove perches on the train seat next to Lynel. Fadir Ravenslove- this is the name of the tengu that saved Lynelâs life, and Lynelâs starting to think that maybe itâs not quite a tengu at all. Not with that shadow over its face and the odd lilt of its sentences, like speech was some kind of novelty it doesnât quite understand.
Theyâre sitting close enough to touch. Neither of them do.
Lynel looks up to find the larger⊠raven⊠thing staring directly into their eyes. Lynel startles, just a bit, and Fadir draws back slightly, eyes turning away.Â
âPaisei,â Fadir mutters. âPaisei.â It clicks to itself. âAh- ni- ni hui-âÂ
It stumbles and stutters over its words, mouth opening and closing out of sync with its odd little sounds.Â
âDâyou want tâ talk about it?â it finally manages.
âNo,â Lynel lies. âWhy did you give my mother all that money?â they ask instead.
âShe donât deserve tâ go hungry on ac-count of coins,â Fadir easily answers. âAnâ she has kids to feed, besides.â
âYou need to eat, too,â Lynel quietly insists.
Fadir chuckles. âI donât need money tâ do that. Besides, I can just get more, le.â
A silence passes.
âItâs cus she stopped,â Lynel suddenly says. âShe- she waited- she-â
âHes-i-tate.â
âThat. You showed up in that house with me and a bunch of coins spillinâ out your sleeves like broken jug, and she- she hesitated.â Lynelâs voice turns small. âLike she wasnât sure she wanted me back, even if you paid her for it.â
Fadir tilts its head. âI think she is very stressed all the time. Only her in that house to take care oâ yâall.â It gestures with its fingers. âYâleave anybody alone like that too long, their brains get cruel, le. Makes âem think things they donât want to. It ainât her fault.â
âI donât care.â Lynel curls up against themself in the seat. âShe still thought it. I just- how am I supposed to back home, if Iâm always gonna know she did that?â
Fadirâs smile gains a sad tilt.
âI donât care if she didnât mean it,â Lynel shakily whispers. âI donât care if she loves me. It wasnât enough.â Their eyes start to flood with tears. âI wasnât enough.â
Fadir stares at Lynel for a bit and lets out a sigh. âIâm not tellinâ you tâ go back home for anything, am I?â
âIâm not going,â Lynel insists. âI donât care where you put me, just not there.â
âOkay, le.â A taloned hand hesitantly rests in Lynelâs hair. âI know somewhere you can stay.â
âJust for a little bit,â Lynel promises. âAnd then Iâll- Iâll leave. I promise.â
(And they never did.)
=[]=
Thereâs a routine falling into place at Ravenslove Tower, and it goes something like this.
Lynel wakes up in a room they donât share with anyone else, in a clean bed with a blanket that doesnât have holes in it. The window does have holes, but theyâre like⊠on purpose holes. Lattice? Something.
Thereâs also a full staircase of chests and drawers that Fadir said they could use. A full staircase! It doesnât have a lot of stuff in it, but Fadir said they could work on that. Lynelâs⊠almost counting on that, actually.
(Almost.)
They go down their staircase, past the workroom and towards the hearth. Fadir passes a quick bowl of fruit towards them across the table and asks them to check if the chickens have any eggs.
âAlright, just this once,â Lynel allows. âYou canât make me do it again.â
And it never did. (It never does.) Fadir never really gives Lynel chores, just⊠things to do if they have the time. Thereâs a lot of things to do around the house. Fetch the eggs, fill the trough, turn the chickens out, check the garden hasnât done anything odd, see if the snifferâs brought anything in for the pantry.
Fadir absolutely doesnât ask Lynel to do much more in the house than keep their own room clean or wash up their dishes if they arenât busy. In fact, Fadir seems pretty insistent on Lynel not fussing around with anything inside, especially not the work room.
(Lynel doesnât know whatâs inside the work room and theyâre too scared to ask.)
Thereâs also the⊠guy(?) who lives in the walls. A fluffy haired imp in a crop top that swaggers around outdoors in a leather jacket, chaps, and tiny white boots, judging Lynelâs chicken related ventures with a scrutinizing black gaze. His name is Kibble. (Allegedly.) He doesnât seem to do much more than bother chickens, bother Fadir, and steal deli meat from the ice box.
He also shows up when Fadir goes shopping, so thereâs that. Shopping isâŠ
âŠitâs gotta be one of the events of all time.
âZhe ge, ne?â Fadirâs knobbly hands lift a papaya out of a cardboard box. âGei ni hui kan.â
âFuckinâ uhhhh-â Kibble squints at the fruitâs freckled surface. âIt looks a little too green. Thereâs definitely some better ones in the box.â
Fadir lets out a short hum and puts the fruit back, hand hovering over the pile. Kibble hops off its shoulder, bouncing off the wood of the stall to disappear into a nearby barrel, only visible by the remnants of his long tail.
âYou go pick something out,â Fadir offers suddenly. âAnythin'. I pay for you.â
Lynel points questioningly to themself.
âTheyâve got nearly everythinâ âround here,â Fadir insists. âBound tâ have somethinâ you like.â
Lynel ducks their head between their shoulders. âCanât you pick it out with yourâŠâ They gesture vaguely at the black shadow covering up Fadirâs face.
Fadirâs expression seems to freeze for a moment. A statue held in place. And then its eyes stutter back into motion, and the moment is gone.
âI want tâ see what you choose.â Its hand briefly taps at Lynelâs knuckles. âWhat you choose. Ne?â
Anything, it said. Anything at all? Thatâs, uh- thatâs sure a lot of thing. Lynelâs not really sure what to do with that. But⊠Fadir didnât say they had to pick something out right now. (Right?) So- Lynelâs just going to look around a little bit. They donât want to go too far away.
Just a little off to the side, thereâs a candy stand, its boxes piled high with every sort of sugary thing it could manage. Candied flowers, rose jams, pumpkin slices, even candied meats. And right in the corner, nestled between some candied nuts and colorful chocolates, was a little box of marshmallows.
Lynel was never allowed to have marshmallows before. Mother bought plenty of candied fruits and meats when she could (it lasted longer than anything fresh), but never marshmallows. Large, fluffy, and devoid of substance. Fadir would never let them eat something like that, not while it fusses over how thin it thinks Lynel is. Surely not.
And yet, and yet, and yet. Lynelâs hands still end up wrapping around a little box of frog shaped marshmallows.
âWa!â Fadir sidles up behind Lynel to stare at the candy cart. âPowder sugar le! I can sugar my basil flowers.â
âYou candy your flowers?â Lynel asks. âI guess it makes them easier to sellâŠâ
âSometimes, le,â Fadir concedes before its smile gains a coy squint. âBut! They are just good tâ have, ne? Not very good, but-â It lets out a sharp chirp. âYâ donât need everythinâ tâ be all well nâ good all the time-â
Its body suddenly stiffens, feathers puffing out like an angry catâs hackles. Lynel follows its gaze to findâŠ
âŠKibble. Just standing there. Holding a single avocado and the smuggest possible grin on its face.
âNo,â Fadir tersely says.
âItâs on sale, señor,â Kibble teases.
âNo sale,â Fadir denies. âOnly death.â
âIt is in season!â Kibble insists, pushing the avocado closer. âYou deny Ortetâs bounty?â
Fadir clutches its cane and hisses. âI de-ny you want to kill me! Poi-son me!â
Kibble hoists the avocado over his head. âThe power of Ortet compels you!â
Fadir lightly bats Kibble away. Instead of just dropping the avocado like a normal person, Kibble decides to fly backwards into the supporting wall of the stall and ricochet directly into Fadirâs face, allowing the offending fruit to drop directly into Fadirâs hand.
A single weary golden eye looks down at Lynel as Kibble scrabbles for purchase on its hat.
âEvery day I wake up,â the raventhing ominously mutters.
Lynel wheezes out a loud laugh.
âAiiiyi, wo tai lao le,â Fadir sarcastically despairs. âNo face. Children laugh at me.â It offers the avocado to Lynel. âYou want my poison? Human fruit, good for you.â
Lynel simply offers up their marshmallow box like a meager shield. âCan I just have this instead?â
Instead of saying yes or no, Fadir places another marshmallow box on top of Lynelâs.
âSo you donât run out,â it offers.
âIâm not even gonna stay that long,â Lynel mutters. âI probably wonât even be here by next week.â
âAnd then you wonât run out while youâre gone,â Fadir simply says.
âR-right. Until it runs out.â
(And it never did.)












