#urchinassassin

[twelvesavethequeen]

Entry 113,

[The text is messily scrawled all over the page, lines of text seem to be written over one another and only a few words at a time stand out enough to be legible. Among these are, in order: “Grey and me”, “Garleen idjits”, “Wine”, “Wine” again, “Friends”, “Wine” again, and finally “Best night ever!” In addition to this there seems to be a man’s handwriting snuck into the margin of the page saying “Grey wuz her” before violently trailing off.]

[ink-long-dry]

Grey Mouser nickname!!

It was some bells before sunrise when Bear woke.  It was the prime time of the day to fish, and--like clockwork--the Highlander traversed through the Sandsea as quietly as he could so as not to disturb the others. His steps were light upon the wooden floor, trained to be so due to living as a hunter in the wilderness. Behind him was the small pitter-patter of paws; it was Brave one, his cub, trailing so close to his ankles that his nose would accidentally bump into them on occasion. 

As he passed by the rooms he made a mental note to remember each occupant. He enjoyed learning more of those that made residence here. This communal nest felt safe and warm, and Bear felt it was right to try and understand all that called Risk home. Passing by Grey Mouser's room, he made a note of the young man too. He was one that was a little bit more difficult to understand, if only for his manner of speaking. He was bold, perhaps a little brash, yet he had a good heart. Bear could see that. But as he drew close to the door, he heard a different sound. At first, Bear thought it to be the sniffling and shuffling of Brave One, but it was too muffled to be so. It was only when Bear stopped just outside the door that he distinguished it to be the young urchin himself.

Bear knelt down carefully and trained his ears to the sound coming from beyond the door. Amidst sniffling and rustling of sheets came sounds of pain. Anguish. ".... let 'im die.... I let 'im die..." It sounded almost feverish. Big, gaping breaths were interspersed with his words. A nightmare.

Later, the afternoon sun found Grey and Bear all but bumping into each other just outside the Sandsea, the make-shift net filled with fish threatening to topple onto the floor. "Feck, big lug as y' are, dinnae even see ya--" Grey exclaimed before he was halted by Bear's heavy hand patting the other's shoulder. Then, from a small pouch loosely tied around his waist, Bear withdrew a small, reddish stone and held it out to Grey.

"Wha's this then? Fer me?" Grey blinked as he picked up the rock from Bear's hand. It was very warm to the touch--not quite burning, but feeling close to it.

"Desert rock. Fire burn inside. Strong and bold. Singing Drunk teach Bear word, 'symbol.'" Bear nodded, in affirmation of his own words. "Burning Coal have strength. Keep close at night. Stay warm. Bear give this to Burning Coal. Take."

The young man simply stared at the strange Highlander as Bear nodded once again and made his way into the Sandsea, shifting his grip on the net of fish, Brave One eagerly running behind him. 

"Burnin' Coal?" His hand closed around the warm stone.