The row of gathering crowds divided only slightly to let way to two small children. Giggling, and bristling with excitement, they hurried past spectators and merchants alike; several times, bumping into pairs of legs, or hand baskets. When small bits of fruit or the occasional trickling of lettuce leaves fell upon their bouncing heads, they giggled with delight all the more. They found shelter from the raging merchant at the vegetable stand, and his equally annoyed patron just under a wooden table cattycorner from said booth on the other side of the long stretch of path. Other stalls like it, varying in size and goods sold, lined either side of the dusty street. The air was heavy with the scent of cooking meat, thick smoke, and over-ripen fruits and vegetables.
The sound of the elderly man yelling obscenities at the small children was quickly drowned away by the sound of an old generator kick starting, sputtering and roaring to life behind them. The rickety old generator fumed and groaned, spitting oil and smoke under the butchers display table, and into their faces.
The children coughed and choked, waving their hands in front of their faces to alleviate the rolling curls of dense smoke from their air passages. When the smoke cleared, they beam at one another with broadening grins. Then, burst into giggles once again.
"Reckon Mister Hruag will tell your Mum?" the young boy chokes out finally, hugging his dirty and scraped knees to his chest, the space under the table hardly enough to be occupied by a single child, let alone two. His shaggy and unkempt silver hair strayed in front of his blue eyes, and his smile brightly spread from one ear to the other. "Bet you."
"My Mum? What about yours? Your Mum has a fiery temper, she does." The girl crouched beside him jabbed the boy in the arm with her index finger. The dark skin of her face was smeared with dirt. "Your Mum is downright horrible."
With a sign of reluctant agreement to that fact, the boy nodded his head heavily. It wasn't so much as a nod, as it was a heavy wobble of his neck as if his head was too much for his scrawny neck. The girl gave a sympathetic smile, though not nearly as large as the one that the boy wore before. Staring at each other for a short while, they both jumped when they heard the ear-splitting yell of her name from somewhere in the crowd.
"Aloucia!" the voice called out again, piercing through the tumultuous gathering.
"Speaking of the devil." the boy grinned jokingly, his light eyebrows rising into his fringe, but Aloucia was less than enthusiastic.
"See you later. Come by tomorrow, yeah?" Aloucia muttered softly, scrambling from the safety of their makeshift hideout.
With a nod of his head, he watched as his friend disappeared into the throng of people, shifting between hips, baskets and porcelain vases. The boy remained seated, huddled underneath the wooden supply display table, having nowhere to go at the present moment. Going home now would likely lead to a thrashing. Judging by the looming darkness that dusk inevitably brought, meant staying out in the cold again. He opted for the bitter cold.
The small inland village began its subtle switch from busy chores and last minute haggling between merchants and customers, to the lazy bustle of its inhabitants settling in for the evening. One by one, the village occupants dipped inside their tents and huts. Several of the flickering lights seen through open windows died out, and smoke puffed insistently from various snuffed bonfires throughout. But, through the chill of the night air, there was a bitterly uneasy feeling on the wind that whipped from the tops of the canyon walls. Though the small village remained silent within their homes, each and every human huddled together. Not only for warmth, but for the security they found with one another.
Aloucia and her family were no different. She sat by the windowsill, sipping tea from a poorly hand crafted porcelain mug. The downpour outside began a steady pace against her window. The tea was bitter, and burnt, latching indiscriminately to every single taste bud. She stuck out her tongue and wrinkled her nose, lapping at the air and the roof of her mouth simultaneously to rid her mouth of the taste, but with little to no luck. Aloucia just set the steaming mug of tea down on the seat next to her, and stared at the window. All she heard was the soft shuffling of feet behind her, and the persistent tapping of a pen against a pad of paper.
Her mother busied herself with chores around the house, mumbling something incoherently about a worthless daughter whom hadn't even bothered to lift a finger to help. Aloucia released an exasperated sigh against the glass of the window, her hot breath creating a small circle of fog. Her father, on the other hand, scratched briefly at his worried brow with the non-writing end of a pen. His palm cupped his jaw uncomfortably, while his elbow remained perched on the desk. He stared intently at the paperwork laid out before him; diagrams and lists, all pertaining to shipping ledgers and available space on a freight ship. Aloucia spied on her father for a moment, using his reflection from the window she sat at. Finally certain he wasn't going to do much else than stare at the documents, she focused her gaze past his and her own reflections, to stare outside again.
Then came the rain, tumbling from the heavens. Lightning brightened the cliff that loomed overhead, the pale stone face gleaming under the dual harsh intensity of the lightning and rain. After another flash of lighting, Aloucia counted the seconds. Her father told her once that if she was to count the seconds after a bolt of lightning cracked the sky and until the thunder rolled by, she would be able to tell how close the bolt struck. Or how far, as the case usually was. One, Two, Three, Four, Five… The thunder rolled deafening overhead, rattling against the windows and through her heart. Five seconds, five miles. When the thunder finally settled in the distance, all she could hear then was the tapping of the rain on her window. It remained so, until…
A low pulsing whine captured her attention. Aloucia thought that maybe it was her imagination, captivated by the pouring rain outside. Certainly not, she thought as the sound came louder still, even at a distance. The pulse of the high pitched whine grew longer and longer with each wave of sound, echoing softly against the canyon walls. When her imagination got the better of her, the sound brought the image of a wailing sea monster to her head, submerged under miles of water. That couldn't possibly be true, she thought. It abruptly stopped with a shuddering pound, like the thunder from before. But she knew better, and this was something different. Just as she was about to turn her head and tell her father, there he was, peering out the same window, his head lowered to level with hers, and his chin just over her shoulder.
"Wonder what that was then, eh?" He grinned stiffly to the young girl, who returned the smile albeit more enthusiastically.
Another bolt of lightning scarred the sky, though this time the father and daughter noticed a shadow stalking through the muck and mud outside. Both squinted through their respective reflections, straining to see the figure.
The figure was indeed human, or looked that way at a glance; walking along on two legs, hands dangling casually by its side, its frame and stature lanky and tall. The atmosphere outside darkened again, leaving little trace of the figure outside. The sky lit up enough again in the wake of another lightning bolt. In that instant, both of them could make out a man, dressed in a well tailored suit and long brown coat. Mud caked and clung to his coat, trousers, and shoes, but still he trudged through the thick mess outside, his hands stashed away deep in his pockets. The man briefly looked at the two startled faces in the window. Another strike of light claimed the man's face. He was young looking, about mid-thirties with a day's worth of stubble on his chin. His hair messily laid flat over his head due to the rain, and side-burns stretched down to just below his earlobes. The steely gaze in his brown eyes was matched only by the storm swirling above. The body moved away before the eyes broke their contact a moment later.
Aloucia and her father stared for a moment longer before retreating their gaze to one another. Her father lifted an eyebrow, and narrowing his eyes at her as if ready to ask, "Who was that?" But the words never came, and Aloucia feigned a careless shrug, until further movement clutched at their attention once again.
The same tall man, stalked past again, heading in the same direction as where he came. Instead, this time, he clutched the limp form of a boy's body under his left arm. And he did not stop to stare at the two gawking faces this time round. The soaking silver locks and gangly limbs of the listless boy was all that Aloucia needed to know that it was her friend from the market.
"Verul!" Aloucia screamed at the top of her lungs, but it was still not enough to get his captor to halt, or even flinch.
Her father was already on the move to the front door of the small hut, shouldering the door open and bounding out into the downpour. Aloucia spun her head around from the front door to watch out her window again, her heart setting a fast pace inside her throat. Moments turned to minutes of waiting, then steadily to a couple of hours.
Aloucia's mother patted gently at her daughters shoulder to ease the torturous anxiety. By this time, several of the towns' people had joined in the search for her friend, told to by her father she could only guess. They darted this way and that through the muddy streets, a few heading to the foot hills. The front door opened again, revealing her father's form standing ridged and soaked in the doorway, empty handed.
