I was running, just like I do every midday on the third of Hearthwing after going home from the lumber mill. The hard packed dirt and pebble road beneath me was just as well, as after running for years barefoot I had become immune to the pain of bare skin slapping down on the paths. Running through Captain City was never a bad idea, but not necessarily good either. They were never super busy, yet the occasional cart that rolled through the widely spaced people were known to have knock over a young unwary boy, so much so that they spent the next few months in wraps, tended to so much that they walk out a mass of bruises. And a laughing stock. But I had become nimble and agile over the years, and deftly avoided the cart that sped toward me now. As the side of the cart passed on in front of my face, I turned back and held a grin on my face as the people behind me cried out, throwing themselves to the ground to save themselves from being trampled by the cart. The driver spat, yelling and telling the young "ass-lings " to move out of the way. I couldn't help laughing.

Yes, I was running home just like I always do every third of Hearthwing, running to catch the carriage that would take me home to the village just outside of Captain City. It was an hours walk though, too long of a walk to make every day and still be in time for dinner. Sariya was making a feast tonight. So, yes, I was running to the carriage ride that would take me home on the Third of Hearthwing, to go before the evening sun sunk below the world horizon. Except that it was a little different this time, Coulin and his goons chasing me halfway across the Kingdom for the bag I held in my hand, running through the streets screaming threats and curses with equal vehemence. But I didn't stop; I had no real interest in being pounded today. None at all. The bag bounced against my thigh as I swerved to doge a woman caring flour sacks, most likely on her way home from a mill. More shouts. More threats and curses. I turn sharply down a corner to leave by the south east path. I flinch as a dirt clod breezes by and slams into the wall of the taverns and merchants shop. That would have hurt. Seeing the carts lain by and under the canvas of the merchants deposit, I pick up speed and run at some boxes stacked up in a makeshift stair case. Long, wide, sticks were jammed into the ground that held the canvas up taught. I just hoped they had really made it taught.

Coulin came around the corner with a shouted, " I'm gonna get you ya no good little dung heap!" More dirt clods and rock were thrown at me. I'm happy their aim matches there intelligence. I ran up the boxes, kicking up dirt and dust as I leapt from one box to the next, all four in quick succession, and from there leapt to the canvas. It bulged a bit, but soon sprung me up a bit more as it bounced back from the tension. Whoever was below the canvas arose with a shout, telling whoever in Skies name was on his tent to get the hell off. I kept running, and jumped off the canvas on to the roof top across the street. I fell flat on my face, kept smiling.

"That ugly little Bikkja, " muttered an angry little Coulin, " we gotta run around! Go you little louts! Stop wasting time!"

The patter of feet moving away reminded me once again that I'm now had some extra time to use to get away, time I best not waste. Rising to my knees, I dusted myself off, though I could do nothing about the grime on my face. Or the bruises I sustained running around. A cat slinked up beside me and purred against my back. I rubbed it's head and back , then stood. Walking over to the edge of the building, I lowered myself down with a hand, the other holding the pouch. I dropped down to the earth, then ran to the exit of the southeast path. Fey should be waiting for me there.

As I ran between buildings and the occasional person, I hoped I hadn't spent too much time messing around. We had to leave soon. I ran on, the sound of my feet slapping the bare dirt road comforting. I ran on. About a street and a half away, I heard the swears and shouts of Coulin and his gang.

"Damn it." I ran faster, knowing that they would hear the slapping of my feet on the dirt road and not caring. Jumping, weaving and dodging, I headed toward the south west exit, the exit of my troubles toward the open grasses of freedom. If I could make it there with all four limbs; they were tailing my arse, and I was getting tired.

About three minutes later, the sounds of pursuit had faded, and I ran into an open circle of houses that surrounded the southeast exit. I could not help feeling relief that I had made it through unscathed. Not trampled or slapped, nor had I knocked anyone over. Dry heaving with my hands on my knees, I scanned the sparse crowd for Feyion. The sounds of pursuit were slowly rising. I looked furiously, and found him were he should be; by the gate. Standing, I jogged over to him, handing him the bag with a lick of a smile, a grin I knew he would catch. I was as worn as a mule, but the big grin that broke out on Feyion's face as he looked inside the bag made the whole situation worth it. He bounced with a high laugh, jumped up and hugged my neck, and I could not help but hug him back. With both broke out into grins and laughs and smiles.

Letting go of my neck but maintaining the smile, he looked up at me again with that contagious joy of his printed all over his face.

"Thank you, thank you so much!!"

"Hey, " I said, crouching down to my heels, "anytime. If anyone keeps messing with you or you keep having trouble, tells us alright?"

I could heard Coulin and his gang catching up.

"OK,"

"Good little man, now go on ahead. And tell Old Groon that I'll be comin' soon."

"OK, but hurry Kuxalo!"

He ran away, pattering quickly on his little feet. Leaving through the exit, he sped toward the cart I could now see, only fifty paces outside of the gate, freedom on wheels. So close yet so far away. I turned back to the predicament approaching me, the ones with callused skin, foul breath, and musty odor. I know that returning the stolen possessions and running away would not solve the problem; it wouldn't take long for the bastards to become angry with us, chase us down, and pound us to the ground, baying like the horses they pushed away on the inside. But I know that they knew if I couldn't at least beat them, they would get at least give them twice the thrashing they intended to give me. Besides that, we both knew that Calkolh would come for them the next day. And that's not something most grown men want - no one messes with my brother. Grims, whether young or old, are fearsome. And through the light crowd of people, with a red face that told me he was out of breath, was Coulin and the entourage. Coulin himself had a face that allowed most girls to overlook his Ass of an attitude. Long, shoulder length hair, a mix of dark blond and brown, somewhat wavy, and bark brown eyes. While no one could call him ugly, he wasn't extremely good looking either. As a female was to pretty, he was to handsome. And fit. He had some muscle from heavy lifting some objects, showing off across town. His four rude accomplices jogged with him just behind, tailing the alpha dog of the pack with a tail between their legs in submission. Yet they bared their teeth when they saw me. The Drugos were not a nice family to begin with - their black haired, gray eyed sons and daughters weren't much better.

"You should have left good things alone Kuxalo," Coulin said with the edge of warning on his voice. He knew he wouldn't be able to beat me by himself, at least not fairly, but he also knew that when it was five against one, the odds of my victory were suddenly looking grim. Very much not good. So he was being bold now, as it seemed his balls had grown with his companions. He flexed his arms for emphasis, trying to push down my will. We both knew that there was likely to be a rumble coming, and submission was no way to start a fight of any kind. I agreed.

"Sorry, I not used to speaking the tongues of the rotten and ugly, but I would be happy to accommodate any such desires to a ass-kicking." A small crowd of a dozen or so had gathered, and word would spread of the outcome almost as soon as it was over. Being so, saying words that would pop Coulin's swollen bladder head would hurt his reputation. His face turned beet red from equal measures of anger and embarrassment, and I guess thinking of a witty comeback would be too much for him, because he began to quiver with anger and just screamed at his cronies to kill me. Two of the siblings ran at me.

When two boys with the creepiest aura and longest, greasy black hair that covers their eyes and falls over their face runs at you screaming - with teeth bared and spit everywhere - you'd be crazy not to at least flinch. And I'm not crazy. They looked like demons. So I flinched with a shout (manly way of saying scream) and put my two arms out and crossed them in front of me. They tackled me to the ground. I used there momentum to continue rolling, but were holding on tight, which made sure I ended up in a weird position, with my legs straight up in the air, and belly flat against their own , their backs flat on the ground. Grunting, I put all my weight on to my right side, throwing an elbow into one of their faces. I ended up throwing an elbow into Rueckls face, the only one of the Drugos I knew. As soon as he gave his own grunt of pain and his grip began to loosen, I rolled over him to my right, slamming his brother or cousin (or maybe both- yes, Drugos have been known to have this history, through they claim to be "improving") , in to the ground beneath me. I jumped back, and kicked him in the knee and balls in quick succession. His body jerked in a painful spasm as I got up, and he doubled over to cover and comfort his injuries, ensuring he was out of the fight. I stood up and grinned at Coulin, and with my always ready smile quipped, "Now how 'bout that?" He growled, and ran at me with the remaining two Drugos, Rueckls in the process of standing. I threw a dirt clod at the closest one, and allowed the second to get close enough in order for me to punch him in the face. He staggered back, clutching his nose. Coulin was a little further back, so as he came running I put myself into a position to brace for his impending pain. Just as he came to engage, the loud crack of sword hitting stone accompanied with an even louder shout stopped our conflict cold.

"HALT!!"

Coulin stopped his forward movement, but did not lower his hands or dispel his menacing sneer, or the malice flickering behind his eyes. His lack of assent kept me on edge, hand up and eyes cautious. No one moved. The tension was palpable.

"I said stop!!", shouted what I could only assume was a guard, from the light hum in the still air of the sword striking the earth only moments ago. Coulin lowered his hands slowly in acquiescence, need to pummel by flesh secondary only by a hair to the authority of a city guards man. I lowered my hands just as slowly, not out of reluctance but born of caution. We didn't move our eyes from each other, only sparing a glance to look at our guard. He had on a purple and black trimmed cuirass, padded, and looked to be made of extremely thick leather. The red head of a wyrm with golden horns was embossed on the center of his chest. Dull grey greaves that spoke of years of abuse were worn over padded leather pants. The rest of his armor was all leather, excluding a helmet he wasn't wearing. His face slightly red from the exertion of running over and screaming, but still hard. He had short cut hair, and light brown eyes, a scar on his left cheek, mid-thirties. In all, not someone who I wanted to mess with. From the look of a dog eyeing meat through a fence Coulin was giving me, I think he thought the same thing.

Boeck, I think that was this guard's name, implored, "Now what the hell happened here?" No response. Our eyes were locked onto each others until Boeck's patience ran out two seconds later. He cuffed the both of us on the side of our heads without warning, though quite honestly, I think he hit Coulin harder. "What the gore happened here!"

One of the crowds bystanders chimed up " Coulin and the kids attacked him!", and Coulin whipped his head to glare at the obscured supporter. Soon there were cries of, "He hit that kid with a rock!", "They tackled him...", "He got elbowed in the face..." and, "I've got the rock here, see!"

Boeck raised his first, and the calls faded into a low murmur. He looked at the both of us, sparing equal glances of irritation and scorn.. "This is true?" Not necessarily eager to be smack once more, I gave a quick nod. Coulin remained ornery to a fault, not giving any sort of assent until the city guard glared at him with painful promise, after which he gave a grunt and a nod. He nodded in the direction of the grey eyed Drugo that I had kicked in the crotch earlier, starring bloody daggers in my direction being helped up by the guy I punched in the face and the one I threw a rock at. All glaring. The guard never broke eye contact though as he asked yet again, "What happened?"

We gave the abridged version, having no real love for wasting time here. I kept glancing towards the gate, hoping beyond hope and reason that the cart hadn't left. We wasted another two to three minutes trying to explain the situation without really explaining the reason behind it. Finally the guard let it go with a mild warning and with a promise that if he saw or heard of either of us engaged in this "sport" again, then we'd be charged to latrine duty for a week.

"So, is there a problem?", he asked once again, seeing as he'd never really got an answer in the first place. I stayed silent and chose to let Coulin answer, knowing that he'd never admit to stealing an orphans money and possessions to a grown man and guard no less. He said nothing, instead choosing to glare at me. "Is there a problem?", repeated the guard, this time with a more added emphasis to the question.

Coulin spat, "No, there's no damned problem, " then spat on the ground at my feet with a sneer and turned away. "He's just a bastards bastard." He strode right past his group without lending a hand for help and walked on into the houses, the Drugos trailing behind him. Rueckls just narrowed his eyes at me before walking away with the rest of his group. I looked at Boeck and gave him thanks, before turning to run to the gate exit. I heard the sound of him sliding his sword in its scabbard as I pushed through people, only for him to call to me to stop and put shoes on. I skidded to a pause, and grabbed the shoes tied next to the sac at my waist. I had forgotten! I quickly slid into them and ran off, past the crowd, through gate and beyond the city into the tall grasses beyond.