Very thin and pale fingers appeared behind the wall, stretched to the extreme. They crawled towards a piece of stale bread that had felt on the dusty ground, as endowed with an autonomous life. Sometimes, they stopped, clenched. Then, they craned towards the bread. The blue nails were nearly achieving their aim when a large leather boot crushed the little hand. The fingers clenched... and moaned. A huge, hairy hand plunged, grabbed a wrist and ruthlessly pulled it up, with a noisy laughter.
-Ah ! I got you, little spider !
He could wrap the wrist between his thumb and his index. The said wrist was hardly thicker than the man's finger. The wrist owner appeared in the light. He was a boy, a very young, very small, very thin, no, very skinny kid. Very fair, too. The man pushed aside some long dishevelled locks, mud stained, and stared at his prey's face.
A very young boy, indeed. His strained and dusty features were striped with the track left by the tears. The little chin was defiantly raised, and extraordinary blue eyes looked into his owns. They clearly blinked away new tears, and the man could see the boy's struggle to control himself.A brave child.
But the kid couldn't help avidly peeping at the stale bread, on the floor. The man followed his glaze, and coarsely sneered.
-My little spider is hungry, isn't it ?
The boy shivered, but he still defiantly tried to hide his fear. Th man pinched the hollow cheek, and bent towards him.
-Well, boy, name your price... what will you give me, for this piece of bread ?
The blue eyes that were brimming with tears suddenly dried. The kid stiffened, and blanched more, if it was possible. The mix of despair and defiance made way to another mix. An unfathomable panic. An as unfathomable hate. The despair and the defiance were childish. The panic and the hate were those of a very old man.
As quick as a snake, the boy turned his head and bit the man's hand. He bit it with all his might. The man cursed and released his grip.
-Damned little bastard ! If I get you...
But the boy was already far from the cabin.
-And what did you want him to give you, man ?
The man was wrapping his bleeding hand with some piece of cloth.
-It's just what I say to my son when he asks me... It's a joke ! This little...
-I think that this little boy had already heard that... He might have had to pay for food... To pay a very high price.
The man was puzzled and stopped wrapping his fingers.
-What do you mean ?
-Are you so dense ? He is a very cute kid, with his long fair hairs, and his blue ...
The other man stood up, horrified. He rushed to the door, opened it and yelled.
-Boy ! Boy ! Come back ! It was a joke ! I didn't mean... Come back, we'll give you some food ! Boy !
The words were lost for the kid. He had run, run to the end of the world. Hunger, fear, sadness forced themselves from his eyes in tears, from his mouth in gasps and moaning. He dropped to his knees, sobbing. He clenched some twigs, some dead leaves in his hand and closed his eyes. That was bread, he decides. That was cakes. That was delicious food. He ravenously swallowed it, forced himself to chew it. Then, he brought up the horrible mixture. Exhausted, he rolled in a ball, and cried. The morning after, he stood up, looked at the sun rise. He didn't cry anymore. He had no more tears to shed. He slowly raised his hand towards the sun and swore a solemn oath. He would never be so hungry, from this precise moment, for his whole life. Never.
-Illya, these were my fried potatoes...
-You let them cooling...
-You know what ? You are the worse glutton I ever met !
-Yes.