Nothing- A Young Ashes Story
Story written based off of A Song About Nothing by MALINDA
Words: 1,694
This story contains explicit language, accidental injury, description of injury, blood, extreme poverty, homeless youth, fantasy prejudice, and reference to implications of harming youth.
The streets of my city get quiet as the sun sinks lower and lower beyond the horizon. I slide off my perch, my tail balancing me until my legs remember that they have a job to do. I drag my hands through the tangles of my hair in an attempt to smooth it out. My hand catches at the same time my legs feel solid enough under me to move again.
“Oh, come on…” I grumble at the tangles my fingers got caught in. Maybe Wera was right and I need to cut it short.
“OW! Shit!”
I jerk my arm away from my hair. My fingers take another tug to pull free from the knots then carefully slip out of my jacket’s sleeve. I pull my arm to cradle it next to me, blood seeping out of the new slice down the length of my forearm. Wera was definitely right about needing to find a solution to the jagged edges of my horn.
With my uninjured arm I pull free a strip of torn fabric away from my belt and quickly wrap up my forearm. I’m supposed to learn healing magic soon. Maybe Wera will give me a lesson when she fixes this.
Stepping up to the edge of the roof lets me see the drop down the hill and into the Burrows. I should head home. It would be the smart thing to do. Curfew is soon- once the shine of the moon is the only light source in the sky amidst the scattered stars, but I don’t want to go back yet. Even if my arm is sore and some of the shadier folks are going to start poking their sleazy heads out of the holes they hide in during the day.
Taking in a big breath I sigh, loud enough that if anyone else were on my rooftop with me they’d hear. I hate being responsible. Getting down how I normally do will be harder… but what’s the fun of giving up and using the stairs. A smirk crosses my face while I size up the flagpole a short jump away from where I’m standing. I don’t really need two arms for it.
A few steps back gives me the running start I need to leap off the edge of the building. For a few short moments I’m weightless before my good arm catches the pole. The inside of my elbow impacts hard into the metal, forcing an exclamation of pain from my lungs. Despite the jarring impact I manage to swing my leg around and catch the pole, much smoother this time, with the back of my knee. My jacket and pants let me slide down easy enough and reach the ground mostly fine.
The most important thing when walking through the Burrows is to make sure everyone knows they shouldn’t fuck with you. Thus… the curfew. Wera says that it’s good to have confidence and walk with it, but until I can fully back it up it doesn’t matter that I’m fifteen. Most of the asshats here will try to take advantage of me for something.
Slinking into my own Burrow doesn’t take long. A warm smell of soup and curing meats greets me. “Wera!” I look up to see my mentor and let the cold facade of street confidence wash away. “I didn’t think you’d be back already.”
“It seems like it’s a good thing I was.” The older dwarven woman chuckles warmly. “It looks like you were going hungry tonight. I thought I left enough for you to have until I got back.”
“Well, technically you did since you’re here today instead of tomorrow.” I counter, shrugging the other side of my jacket off to hang it up at the back of our little shack.
Wera looks like she’s going to make some sort of comeback before she properly looks me over. Her jovial mood and soft smile fizzles away quickly upon seeing my arm and the blood seeping through the wrap I put over it. “What is that?”
I never like it when she pulls out her mom voice. “It’s fine. I just…” I motion to my horn. “I’m still getting used to it is all.”
“I told you we need to do something about that.” She says sternly as she walks over and holds out her hand. I dutifully place my wrist in her hand.
“I wrapped it immediately with the cleanest fabric I have. I would have cleaned it better, but I know how you feel about me using magic without you around.” I try to explain as she unwraps my arm to get a better look at it.
“You did a very good job with what you had.” Wera’s tone softens again. Pride wells in my chest and I can’t help the smile on my face at her words. “And it’s a good thing you didn’t cast anything too. They’re starting to enforce their laws and if you’re even suspected of casting they’ve been locking people up. We need to be careful.”
My pride sours to worry. “People aren’t going to come after us, are they? Everyone around here knows you and what you can do. I don’t trust they wouldn’t turn us in for a quick coin.”
“We’re going to be okay for now.” My mentor smiles softly, hovering her hand over the slice down my arm. “From now on we only cast around those we know won’t turn us in. If they try to catch you, run. You know the Burrows better than them. You can get away.” Wera plucks at the River and hums softly, moving her fingers like she’s strumming a harp. Numbness seeps into my arm around my wound just before the cut seals itself up, leaving only a scar. She turns my arm side to side and pokes at the scar, nodding in satisfaction at her work. “There. Now, clean yourself up while I finish up dinner.”
A nervous hum vibrates under my teeth. “What if they come after you?”
“Then I’ve got friends I can call some favors in for. Don’t worry about me, kiddo.” She waves her hand to dismiss the conversation. “Like I said. Clean up. You know the spell.”
“Okay.” I grumble, anxiety picking at my lungs. I try to ignore it and sit down on the stool at the side of the room. With a deep breath I focus on the space around me, looking for the Flow as it moves around us. Once I find a faint trickle I carefully reach out for it. “I went up to the abandoned warehouse today and sat on the roof for awhile.”
Wera hums an acknowledgment from her place at the pot. “And what did you see?”
“Nothing super interesting. There were a lot of people going about their day. The market is starting to set up now that the worst of the cold is gone. I think that the buskers are going to be out first this year, but that the guard are going to drive them off until the stalls can be properly reset.” I can tell that I’m starting to slowly entice the trickle towards my outstretched hand.
“Didn’t they set up around the buskers last year?” Wera asks, easily wrapping a finger around a tendril of the Flow and putting out the smokeless fire in the center of the shack. The ripple I’m reaching for wavers, but doesn’t leave.
“Well, yeah. But everyone complained. The sellers said that they had to set up further apart which meant they couldn’t co-sell anything with anyone. The buskers said that the stalls were put too close to where they were performing and didn’t have enough space. And anyone walking around were saying that it was too spread out and they had to walk too far. I think they tried it because the buskers have been complaining about how the market is too cramped for them to properly do their stuff anymore despite the fact that there have been some areas scattered throughout for space for them.” The ripple gets close enough for me to slowly wrap my hand around and feel as magic floods into my arm. Next step…
“As for me, I wasn’t a fan of everything being so far apart. It spread everyone out which made it really hard to swipe anything. It was easier to see when someone dropped any coins, but the extra visibility made it so that it was really hard to actually get to it before someone else did.” I take a deep breath and take in the last of the magic I can from the ripple. I feel the low rasp in my voice as I speak in Infernal. “Clean up.”
Starting from the hand I reached out with- the one Wera just healed- all the dirt and grime and blood fleck away, leaving my gray skin spotless. I feel my face relax from my focus to a big grin. “I did it!” My tail lashes excitedly behind me.
Wera’s expression matches what I assume mine is. “Well done kiddo.” She takes the four steps to cross the room with a bowl in one hand and ruffles my hair with her other. “That was very well done.”
I bat her hand away from my head. “That mess is bad enough without you making it worse.” I can’t keep the laugh from my voice.
“Want me to help you with that?” Wera holds out the bowl towards me.
I nod. “If you wouldn’t mind.”
“Of course.” Wera chuckles and steps behind me, pulling out a comb from her side pouch as she does so to start pulling it gently through my hair. “I’m going to braid it like my beard until we can figure out a better way to take care of it, okay?”
“Okay.” I finally slouch a little and let my shoulders drop. “Will you tell me a story?”
Even though I can’t see her, I can feel Wera practically beaming behind me. “Happily!” She gently tugs out a knot and begins. “A very, very long time ago there was a continent called Etrela…”