Chapter 1
"MY CABBAGES!"
That was his cue. With that, the vandal made a gracious bow toward the infuriated merchant. The imprint of malicious joy captured his portrait, fully aware of his little crime. The merchant shook in desperation, attempting to cradle the remains of his mauled vegetation.
"SECURITY!"
The words instantly whipped the mischievous expression from the boy's face. The merchant was one thing- harmless. But "The BIG guns", the town security- he was DEAD. One foot fell behind the other, and the kid was off and running. All he had was his agility. Against others his age, he was an unstoppable force of dynamite. But as for trying to outrun the fully grown professionals in pursuit, he had no chance.
He could hear the penetrating shouts of authority from behind.
From the side.
Crap.
And he crashed. Two hands grabbed the defeated prize, drawing a sack over his head. The boy knew where they were heading- and he gladly would have rather gone to prison.
The woman brushed off the remnants of flour from her outer garment as she opened the door. Her face fell flat.
It was her boy.
Again.
With a bag over his head.
She put a finger to her head and moaned. The guard carefully removed the bag, and the boy started inside. A firm hand grasped his arm, aborting his stealthy escape. The mother looked up at the guard with the same unaltered expression she had given a thousand times before.
"What was it this time?"
It was nearly an hour before dawn. The child lay wrapped beneath his blanket. A tiny hand lay upon his growling stomach, which had been deprived of the previous night's supper. He listened to the quiet world around him.
Silence.
Nothing unusual, nothing ominous. Just normal. Yet something….
Somewhere.
Somehow.
Something….
Something was wrong. The boy listened as the door slowly creaked open. He watched as the light hit the back wall of his room.
"Sweetie?"
His mother laid a gentle hand upon him.
"Sweetie-pie, wake up…Please."
The boy slowly sat up as his small hands rubbed his eyes. Tears were painted upon his mother's face, and the hand upon his shoulder shook. It shook as if she was…afraid.
"What's wrong, Momma?"
Silence.
His little palms wrapped themselves around her. He was afraid. Momma never cried. Never-ever. He buried his tiny face in her embrace. Even then, her heart seemed to quiver in fear.
"Momma, why are you shaking?"
The woman seemed taken aback. She absorbed the expression quickly, enough so that the mere child was naïve to miss it.
"Me…me and your father are cold, sweetie."
The boy stared blankly back at her. It was too much for the mother, and the tears only fell harder. With a painful effort, she managed to lay a pallid hand upon his cheek. She took a long breathe, trying to swallow the river drowning her spirit.
"I-I want you…I want you to go outside and get some firewood for us."
The child tilted his head in curiosity.
"But Mommy, it's so comfy. We don't need a fire. Daddy say if we's gets too hot, we's going to turn into roasted leechie nuts!"
The tears only continued to fall harder, but a small smile cracked through the woman's face.
"Honey…"
She pressed his little head against her chest. She stroked her fingers through his matted hair, gently pressing her lips against his forehead.
"I will always love you. Know that. And no matter what happens, what they do, promise me that you will never-"
A crash sounded. The mother's eyes grew large, and she pushed the child away from her.
"Go. GO NOW!"
"But Momma-"
"I said GO!"
The boy obeyed. His tiny fingers raised the sash, and he slipped his petite figure through the window. With one last look he saw his mother sitting upon his bed. He would never forget that petrified look on her face.
And then he ran.
Jet never looked back.