Clementine hesitated upon hearing the shouts. Not far, just a few blocks down. He turned to head in the opposite direction. He only made it two steps before there came another shout, this one the high-pitched yelp of a toddler. Sighing, Clementine tucked the stack of books underneath his arm and reversed directions once again. He was not alone either. Others came, drawn by the noise. They emerged from their homes bug-eyed and bedraggled. The sun had only just peeked the horizon minutes ago. Clementine was one of the first to arrive on the scene.
Three Mudslingers stood outside Greenberg's school. Greenberg himself was on the school porch with a class of children behind him including one older boy maybe two years Clementine's junior. A former classmate perhaps. Hard to tell with his face swollen and purple the way it was.
One of the Mudslingers hefted a wooden club over his shoulder. "I'm not gonna ask again. Give me the books or I'll take them myself."
"They don't belong to you," said Greenberg, "they belong to the children."
"Not after last night." The Mudslinger pointed his club at the kid with the battered face. "Little Alfie here lost them in a game with us."
"They weren't his to gamble away."
"Not my problem. What's done is done. Now I'm here to collect. One way or another I will have those books. Don't make me have to hurt you, old man."
Greenberg stiffened, "They need those books to help them learn. Are you really so cruel that you'll deny them any form of education just because you couldn't wrap your head around the idea in the first place?"
The Mudslinger grew red but before he could act one of his companions advanced, club swinging. It struck Greenberg's upraised arm and with a cry of pain he fell backwards. The children behind him scattered like startled rabbits. Except for Alfie who ran inside. A few seconds later he reappeared with the books in question. The Mudslinger who attacked Greenberg tore them from Alfie's grasp and tossed them to his stout but muscular companion.
A small crowd had gathered around, but no one did anything. They just watched, same as Clementine. He knew it was too much to expect anyone to do anything. Still, he held out hope for someone to step up, anyone. Alfie kneeled over Greenberg, helping his teacher to rise. The alpha male of the pack having skimmed through the books tossed to him, then turned to leave. However, the Mudslinger who struck Greenberg raised his club threatening to strike again.
A voice shouted out, "Enough!"
Everyone swiveled round, eyes locking on him. Only then did Clementine realize he had spoken aloud. The Mudslinger with the school books turned towards Clementine. A smile broke out on his flat face. Clementine recognized the sneer. The sight of it was enough to dreg up some memories from a lifetime ago. Like loyal dogs the two other thugs reined in behind their pack leader.
"Well isn't this a welcome surprise. Augustus Clementine. Where have you been hiding?"
Clementine cocked his head, "Sorry, do I know you?" The Mudslinger staggered as if shoved by a forceful wind. Clementine hid his smirk. "You do look slightly familiar. What's your name again? Gaz? Spaz?"
"Its Naz!" he spat.
"Sounds about right." Chuckled Clementine.
Shoving the school books in the arms of his goons, Naz stalked towards Clementine until they were an arm's width apart. "What do you want, pretty boy?"
Clementine placed a hand over his heart, "You flatter me. What I want is for you to give Greenberg back the books and leave them alone."
"Books belong to us now. If you're that raw about it take it up with Alfie. He's the one who lost them in the first place."
"What do you lot want with the books anyway? Can you even read?"
The smile on Naz's face turned crooked. "Who knows? Maybe we'll use them as kindling for a fire. Or maybe we'll use the pages to wipe our own-"
Clementine's hand snapped out like lunging snake. It slapped against Naz's throat. The bully stumbled back, dropping his club. Before they had a chance to even register what was happening Clementine advanced on the other two Mudslingers. He struck the first one in the armpit, forcing him to drop the school books. Clementine pivoted to counter the second thug's wild punch, guiding it away from his body before following through with a palm thrust to the man's chest. The blow forced the man back several steps.
In a matter of seconds, he had sent all three Mudslingers reeling. Clementine took a step forward ready to continue his assault, but he stopped himself. That pause was all the time Naz needed to recover. Reclaiming his club, Naz struck Clementine in the shoulder. Clementine dropped to the ground, his own stack of books and folders scattering in the mud. By then the two other mudslingers regained their feet and began kicking him. Each blow dealt was like a shockwave. In rapid succession they made his body tremble. Clementine sealed his eyes shut and waited for them to get bored.
Just when it seemed like the Mudslingers would never tire of kicking the shit out of Clementine someone else joined in the fray. The newcomer was met with gasps and shouts of frustration from the Mudslingers. Clementine raised his head. Naz scrambled in the mud collecting the scattered books while his two friends were beaten back. Their attacker pressed forward. Her flurry of kicks sweeping arcs through the air. Gathering up one last book, Naz turned and ran down the street followed by the other two Mudslingers.
"Damned outsiders!" shouted Naz as he fled.
Their attacker, a young woman in her early twenties gave chase after them. Her sleek panther tail and curly black hair trailing behind her.
"Kiera!" shouted a new voice pulling up behind Clementine.
The faunus girl slid to a stop, laughing as the three Mudslingers retreated out of sight.
A shadow came over Clementine followed by a helping hand. "You alright?"
Clementine reluctantly accepted it, "I didn't ask for your help."
The young man known only by the strange name of Buckets, heaved Clementine to his feet with relative ease. "Did we need it?"
"Does the hero wait for the Princesses' invitation before rescuing her from the castle?" asked Kiera with a snide grin.
"Is that what you are?" asked Clementine, "A hero?"
She brushed her hands together, slapping off the mud. "No, but you are a princess."
Clementine scoffed and knelt to retrieve his things. When Buckets moved to help, Clementine shooed him away. "Go see to Mr. Greenberg."
Nodding, Buckets made his way to where the rest of the small crowd had gathered around Greenberg's porch.
Kiera stood over Clementine, her arms crossed. "What was all that about anyway?"
"You don't know?"
"We only just got here. You think I would've let it get that far before stepping in?"
"Somehow I'm not surprised. You have no idea the context of the situation, yet you jump in swinging."
Overhearing her question, Alfie stepped down from the porch. "It's my fault. All mine."
"Alfie?" Kiera squinted at the kid's face. "Jeez…What happened to you?"
"I went by the Mudslingers' place last night."
"Why in the world would you do that?"
Alfie flinched and shied away, "I thought I could win. I was winning. But I ran out of stuff to bid. So, I bet the school books to up the ante. But after that the guy I was facing started doing really good."
Kiera dragged a hand down her face in disappointment. "You were hustled."
"I know that now!"
"Should've known beforehand." Said Clementine, "Mudslingers lie, cheat, and steal. That's how they win. You never should've gone there."
"I'll go tonight and win it all back."
"With what?" snapped Clementine, "you have nothing left to gamble with. It's over."
"There's more." whispered Alfie, "There is always more to give."
"What? Are you going to bet your soul?" Picking up his last fallen folder, Clementine stood. "I'm done here. Never should've gotten involved in the first place."
Kiera called out after him, "Where you going?"
"Home." Said Clementine without turning around.
Kiera watched Clementine storm off before heading towards the school porch. The rest of the gathered crowd dispersed as well, their morning of excitement over. The frightened children had returned and were swarming Buckets and Greenberg.
"How you doing, Professor? Sorry I'm late."
Greenberg groaned, "I told you not to call me that."
Buckets finished tying off the sling that held the teacher's arm, "Its broken. Though not too badly by the look of it."
"Aren't you going to ask me how my pain is on a scale from one to ten?"
Buckets' laugh was lighthearted, "No need. Its written all over your face."
Kiera nudged Buckets leg, "Hey, think you can hold down the fort here?"
"Isn't that your job? Where are you going?"
Without answering him Kiera turned to Alfie, "Don't you go back there tonight or ever again."
"But the books-"
"I'll get them." Her confident smile won her peculiar looks from all present. "This time tomorrow everything will be as it should."
Their voices carried through the cavern like echoes in his fractured mind. They walked in a straight line with him, the runt of the litter, in the middle. The sticky ground tugged at his boots the same way his mother's voice in the lead tugged him forward. The line came to an abrupt halt. Sudden stillness gripped his heart. From down the cavern came a sound like an ocean of pebbles folding over each other. It was getting closer.
Something cold jarred him awake. His startled panic practically destroyed the mud pen he had been sleeping in. It was a stable once, but years of no use left it nothing but a few wooden fences and empty troughs. He looked about with bloodshot eyes before spotting the girl standing but a few feet from him holding an empty pitcher.
"Good morning, Runt. Sleep well?"
Runt rubbed at his eyes. "What time is it?"
"Far past time to get up."
He pinched at his damp clothes, "I'm wet."
"It rained last night."
Runt looked at her, then the still dripping pitcher, and said nothing. He hadn't the strength or time to argue with Kiera. He was already late as is.
"Don't bother." Said Kiera, as if reading his thoughts. "You're already fired."
Runt froze, "What?"
"Mr. Flood hired some of Greenberg's alumni to fix up his store. It'll take them longer and it won't be as good of a job, but they're shelves. Don't need to look pretty. Besides, it keeps them out of trouble. Had enough of that already."
Runt plopped back down in the mud. "I guess I can go back to sleep then."
"Not just yet." Said Kiera, "I have another job for you. Your old one."
Not again, please. Runt rubbed at his face. "I'm sorry, but no."
"The Mudslingers are out of control. Gambling, stealing, and now beatings in the middle of the street…In broad daylight."
"And?"
His indifferent question made her angry, "And don't you think we should do something about it?"
"What would you have me do? Beat every punk I see into submission?"
"Something like that, yeah. Things aren't how they used to be."
Runt lurched to his feet, "What makes you think you know how things used to be?"
Kiera leaned against a stable fence, "Your right, I don't know how things worked back then. But I've heard stories. And I've been around long enough to know that things have gotten worse. The Mudslingers, the group that you started now follow Sned."
"Sned?" Runt struggled to recall the name, "That duplicitous shit? He doesn't give a rat's ass about anyone, why would they follow him?"
"They've been following him for the past several years. Wake the fuck up!" her outburst knocked him back down, "With you gone he stepped up. Like a vulture come to pick through the scraps. He's the only one to have a solid connection outside the city. Sned gets food and supplies. Toys for kids, you name it. He lures them in with what he can provide and from there he appeals to their nature. Let's them do as they please without any consequences."
Runt sat in the mud absorbing all she said like a sponge. There was silence for a while. Kiera's pale brown eyes didn't leave him for a second. He was like a child before her. An overgrown giant of a child and she his den mother. When it was clear Runt would make no reply, Kiera spoke up.
"The one they tried beating this morning was Augustus Clementine."
That name…a hammer to his chest. Drove the air straight out of his lungs. "Tried?"
"I stopped them of course. But not after Clementine fought them." She paused as if puzzled with something, "He was fast. Had them staggering, but then he just…stopped. It's like he remembered he shouldn't be able to fight. I don't know. He plays things close to his chest. I'm worried. Clementine is up to something. He's been up to something for the past six years. You know, up until recently I thought we were the only ones to unlock our aura here. I'm starting to have doubts."
"You're saying he did?"
"What I'm saying is this: Runt, you're my friend, but if you don't put yourself back together then people are going to start dying. The Buffer is increasing in size, squeezing us in. I know you know this. Sooner or later, when our backs are to the Spine, there will be nowhere to cram your head in the mud and hide."
Kiera turned to leave, waving the pitcher goodbye as she went. "Oh, and I talked with the inn keep. You're cut off. See ya."
Runt rubbed at his groggy face. He had hoped to wash Kiera's words down with a morning ale or several, but if what she said was true then that wouldn't be possible. So, he fell back into the mud with a splat.
The Mudslingers had taken up residence near the center of the district. It's there that their influence was best felt. Like tendrils reaching out. The building they claimed as their base of operations looked like what might have been a town hall some time ago. It was larger than most buildings in the Mud District and the only one to be partially made out of stone. That alone set it apart from the rest like a status symbol. Four stories tall, five if one were to count the tip of the building were resided an ancient cracked bell.
Perched on a nearby rooftop, Kiera watched the comings and goings of the Mudslingers. With the sun going down the gang was preparing themselves for another night of games. She knew that's when most of them would be gathered. Better to get them all in one fell swoop.
Moments from leaping off the inn there came a scuffle from behind her. Kiera whirled, pouncing on whoever snuck up on her. She pinned his shoulders to the ground and raised her other hand poised to strike at his face. The young man beneath her had a thin beard and shaggy dark hair that possessed a reddish tinge to it. Buckets grinned up at her.
"Thought I told you to stay with Greenberg?" she growled.
"He's fine. Mr. and Mrs. Flood are caring for him right now and I made sure all the children went straight home. Did you think I was going to let you walk in there by yourself?"
Kiera pressed down on him so that their lips were almost touching. "Going to talk me out of it?"
"On the contrary, I'm here to help."
She pulled back, the playfulness gone. "Sorry, but you'll just get in my way."
"There's too many. You can't fight them all."
Pushing off his chest, Kiera stood. "I'll take my chances."
Buckets sat up on his elbows, "Okay, say your plan works. You beat them all up, take back Greenberg's books and walk away triumphant. You're just giving them an excuse. You show them violence then they will respond in kind."
"What are you saying I do then? They beat Alfie. Attacked Greenberg. Broke his arm. Stole books from children. And that was just this morning. You're telling me I should just let it go?"
"That's not what I'm saying at all." Buckets stood, brushing himself off. "I recommend a different course of action. We beat them at their own game."
"You mean gamble?"
"Exactly."
"That's how this all started in the first place!"
"Yeah, but this time we'll win."
His confidence gave her pause, "I'm not risking it. What even makes you think the outcome will be any different?"
"Despite what you might think, the Mudslingers aren't all mindless brutes. They're just lost looking for a purpose in life just like anyone else. They found power through violence. Enough to fill that gap in their lives. I can't fault them for that…If we want this violence to end then we need to get through to them and the first step towards that is earning their respect."
Kiera stared out over the rooftops overlooking the Mud District. "They respect strength. If I beat the living shit out of Sned what makes you think they won't follow me?"
"Because to them you're still an outside. We both are."
Kiera turned to face him but the words died in her throat. She knew he was right, but just didn't want to admit it. Worse part is, he knew that too. Kiera groaned in frustration. "We don't even have anything to gamble with."
In response, Buckets withdrew a bundled stack of notes. They were slightly crinkled and faded as if they hadn't seen the sun in years. The L-shaped symbol marked on their fronts was that of the Lien currency. Kiera gaped at the amount.
"Where did you get that?"
"I've had it since…Well," he gestured around them, "before all this. Kept it in case of a rainy day."
"You've been carrying around that much money in your pocket for six years?"
A wry smile creased his face, "Shall we? It's getting dark. Mudslingers are open for business." Without waiting for a response, Buckets climbed down the side of the building and began striding towards the old town hall. Sporting her own amused smile, Kiera followed suit.
The pair guarding the entrance sat on the stone steps, bouncing a rubber ball back and forth. They each wielded their own wooden clubs fashioned from pieces of broken buildings. There were plenty of those in the Mud District. Kiera recognized them both from this morning. The surprisingly even tempered Leff and his hotheaded best friend Jules, the one who broke Greenberg's arm. Seeing their approach, Jules stepped forward to block the way. His face was bruised where she had kicked him earlier.
"What do you two want?" asked the Mudslinger, readying his club.
"Easy," Buckets held up the money for all to see, "We just want the chance to win back what you 'procured' this morning."
Two grand doors once barricaded the entranceway. One now leaned against the wall, broken off its hinges, while the other was missing entirely. This left the entranceway open. From inside, Naz stepped out into the moonlight. His beady eyes regarded them both with open hostility.
He waved a dismissive hand at Buckets, "You? Sure. But the faunus bitch stays out here."
Baring her teeth, Kiera moved forward but Buckets held out a staying hand. "There's no need for violence here, but I don't go in without her."
"What is she your bodyguard?" Naz spat at Buckets feet, "Forget it. Get lost, both of you. While you still can."
"Want a repeat of this morning?" threatened Kiera.
Naz grumbled a laugh, "Can you fight us and protect your boyfriend at the same time?"
"Like I said, there's no need for violence." Buckets backed away slowly, his arms raised over his head. "We're going. Kiera, come on."
Kiera stood still, a pillar in the mud. She glared at Naz who reflected her own disgust and hate right back at her. Like a mirror. Just walk away Buckets. You tried and you failed, but at least you tried. Leave me to these meatheads. Please. I'll make sure the Mudslingers won't have a leg left to stand on.
Behind her Buckets whispered, "Kiera…don't."
"Now wait just a second!" The voice came from inside the town hall. Sned strutted out into view. The man himself. Leader of the Mudslingers, cloaked in a fancy plaid bathrobe. He inspected his two guests with little interest before he spotted the money. His smile was like something roughly carved out of cardboard. "Now Naz, no need to be rude. All are welcome here. Come in, come in."
Muttering under his breath, Naz lowered his club. The tension eased like a deflating tire. After sharing a brief glance between them, Kiera and Buckets followed Sned inside. A host of candles lit the town hall in an orange glow that brought out the red hue in Buckets' hair. The burning wax was everywhere. Kiera almost knocked one over with her swinging panther tail.
"Watch yourself." Cautioned Sned, "Don't wanna catch that pretty thing on fire." The Mudslinger leader was easier on the eyes than Naz, but there was something even more off-putting in that almost kind face. A mask of halfhearted charm and dry charisma.
Moonlight spilled in from the entrance to the bell tower high above. Its pillar of white light shone on the dais podium on the other end of the town hall. Kiera imagined that at one point elected officials of the District spoke to their citizens from behind that podium. Long ago, maybe. But now it was nothing more than Sned's seat of power.
Mudslingers lounged about all over. Some even hanging out up on the ceiling rafters. There were more than Kiera initially thought. At least fifty. With the sole exception of their leader, the Mudslingers were comprised of the young. Teenagers mostly. Some younger. A few in their early twenties like her and Buckets. It pained Kiera to see former students of Greenberg's amongst the faces. Children were easy to recruit. Their young minds like clay, easily molded. Easily swayed. The promise of comfort and power was an alluring prospect for anyone. Even more so for disenfranchised children.
Still, they acted like children. Many were giggling amongst themselves or playing games provided for them through Sned's connections. The whole scene better suited a playground than a criminal base. Their smiles vanished when they saw her. That's right kids. Here I am, your harsh reminder of reality. Look upon me now and shiver. Because one day soon, you too will have to grow up.
Such sour thoughts left Kiera bitter. Buckets and Sned took seats at a table opposite of each other. At their respective sides stood herself and Naz. The role of bodyguard fitted them both in this situation. Sned drummed his knuckles on the wooden surface of the table.
"So, what would you like to play?"
Buckets didn't even seem to hear the question. He was too distracted lost in all those hostile stares regarding them. Sned waved a hand and all at once the Mudslingers resumed whatever it was they were doing before they walked in. Shaking himself, Buckets turned to face Sned.
"Sorry, what was that?"
"You're my guest," said Sned, "what game would you like to play? Usually I can suggest a game that best fits the player, but I find myself at a loss." Sned dragged his tongue across his front teeth. "How long have you two been here now?"
"Six years." Answered Kiera.
Buckets nodded, "Ever since the fire."
Sned smiled and wagged a finger between Buckets and Kiera. "You two know each other before that night?"
"Nope."
"Well…at least something good came out of it I suppose."
Upon hearing that comment Naz stormed off. His sudden flight caught Buckets' attention. He wasn't alone in taking notice. Kiera realized it as well. The majority of the Mudslingers were some of those who lost the most in the fire. It was a long moment before Buckets brought his attention back on the Mudslinger leader.
"Why do you ask? About us, I mean."
Sned's shrug was careless, "Curious is all. You two have called the Mud District home for the past six years and yet I don't know a single thing about you. Besides the faunus' feisty nature. Her desire to stick her tail where it doesn't belong."
Buckets smiled through the veiled warning, "Well we never really talked before. Have we?"
"The fault is mine. Now tell me, what game would you like to play?"
Spotting a pair of six-sided dice on the table, Buckets leaned over and plucked them up. "I prefer chance. Weighing outcomes and betting on them. I have no interest in complicated mechanics and considering the looks we're getting, we're not welcome here long either. So, why don't you roll the dice. As they bounce I guess the outcome. If I guess correctly three times in a row then you let us leave with all the books Naz here took this morning."
"And if you guess wrong?"
Buckets pushed the bundle of Lien forward on the table. "Then it's all yours."
Sned's grin broadened, "Deal."
Kiera leaned close to Buckets' ear. "What are you doing? That's worth ten times as much." she hissed.
"Trust me?"
"The roll will be completely random."
"Trust me?" he repeated.
Kiera sighed, "You better know what you're doing."
Obviously pleased by their small squabble, Sned asked, "Are we ready to begin?"
"Whenever you are." Answered Buckets.
Sned held the dice in-between his fingers. With flare, he tossed them across the table. They bounced once then twice.
"Three and two." predicted Buckets.
The dice bounced another two times before coming to a stop with one die landing on three and the other on two. Sned stared a moment before chuckling.
"A lucky guess."
Buckets nodded in agreement, "Again?"
"Again." Sned swept up the dice and after an elongated shaking in his hand he spilled them out once more. This time they only bounced once before Buckets called it.
"Five and a one."
The dice bounced and rolled across the table. When they came to a stop the whole town hall went quiet. All the Mudslingers who were pretending not to pay attention were now fully immersed. Sned stared. He smiled but the effort strained his face. Neither player said a word as Sned retrieved the dice. Buckets watched his hand move back and forth, jostling the small wooden cubes. His eyes were focused and his face blank.
Again, the dice flew out. They bounced once, twice, three times. The sound of them hitting the table echoed throughout the town hall.
"Four and a three. Bringing it to a total of seven."
The dice rolled some more before coming to a stop. Kiera had to cover her mouth to stifle a laugh. Sned stared at the dice, his smile twitching. Having watched from afar, Naz returned to Sned's side with the books tucked underneath his arm.
"How did you do that?"
Buckets shrugged, "Luck I suppose."
Dumbstruck, Naz set down the books. When Buckets reached out to grab them Sned caught his wrist.
"Wait," he said, "You're gonna stay and give us a chance to win it back."
Buckets offered up an apologetic smile, "Sorry, but you no longer have anything left that interests me."
When Sned didn't release his grip, Kiera clenched her hands into fists. "Is there a problem?"
Sned eyed her, his face taut with rage. The surrounding Mudslingers rose to their feet but moved no further. Kiera noticed that a good portion of them looked to Naz for guidance. Their conflicted feelings were plain to see. Naz made no move to reach for his club, which was slung over his shoulder. Kiera suspected that his hesitation, if it was that, was all that prevented the rest of the Mudslingers from attacking. Amongst the crowd there were a handful of older boys who flocked towards Sned's side. Their intentions were not so conflicted. Kiera recognized them. Sned's loyalist. His own personal honor guard comprised of the worst the Mud District had to offer.
After a long glare at Naz, Sned released his grip. "Of course. Be on your way then."
"Gladly." Kiera helped Buckets gather up their winnings. The Mudslingers watched them as they went. Kiera spared them one last look before leaving the candlelit town hall. They weren't smiling nor glaring. There was something new in their faces and Kiera didn't recognize it. They walked in silence past the stone steps and down the street. When they turned the first corner, out of sight of the town hall, Kiera spoke.
"What did you just do?" she asked, exasperated as if she had held her breath on the way out.
Buckets glanced at her with a small smile. "I think, I just made some progress."
The roof leaked droplets of leftover rainwater onto the plant's leaves. Clementine knelt before the withered plant and watched it die. The stem had shriveled to half its size in the past week alone. A thing once blossoming with life, now dead. A small tragedy in the grand scheme of things. Still, the tears trickled down his cheeks. A rage burgeoned within him and he flung the now dead plant with a hiss. The pottery shattered on impact and the remains of the plant flopped to the floor.
He stood there seething for an unknown amount of time when there came a knock at his door. Clementine dragged a hand down over his face, feeling the heavy bags beneath his eyes. With a sigh he called out, "Come in."
The front door creaked open and not long after that Kiera stepped into the room. "How you feeling?" she asked.
"I'm fine."
"That was quite the beating you took this morning though."
Clementine knew what she was hinting at and didn't like it. "Why are you here, Kiera?"
"I have something for you." She held up a book in her hand. Its old weathered cover was instantly recognizable. "Found it mixed in with Greenberg's books. Figured Naz accidentally took it in the confusion."
Clementine squinted her, "How did you get them back?"
"I didn't. It was all Buckets. He gambled against Sned and won. Did more damage than I could ever manage with my fists alone."
Clementine moved away without taking the book. "You sound amused."
"You should've seen it. The look on Sned's face when Buckets beat him. Priceless."
"He won't let that slide."
She shook her head, "They won't. He beat them at their own game. I think…I think they respect him for that. Just like he said they would."
"Maybe they do now, the Mudslingers I mean. But not Sned. By the sound of it you humiliated him. Wound his pride and he will strike back."
Kiera chewed on his words before replying, "I think you're being a little overdramatic."
"Maybe, maybe not. Just be careful."
She nodded and slapped the book onto her palm, "You want this or not?"
"Just leave it on the kitchen table on your way out."
Kiera skimmed through the crisp yellow pages, "You enjoy these?"
"For a time."
"Never figured you the type to pay fairy tales any mind." Her eyes searched his living room, glossing over the packed bookshelf where Clementine kept the majority of his collection. She was slow to read the titles inscribed on the book spines. "The History of the Four Kingdoms…The Great War...Myth of the Grimm…The Properties of Dust. You do a lot of reading, huh?"
"Do you?"
"I prefer pictures."
"I'm sure you do."
She smiled at his lazy mockery, "You know, ever since arriving here Buckets has made friends with just about everyone. I don't even think he intends it. People just like him what with his infectious smile and eerie optimism. While he befriends all the nice people in the Mud District I look out for the rest. The troublemakers."
"Am I one such troublemaker?"
"I don't know what you are."
He raised his hands, "Look and see for yourself."
"Once you may have been that easy to read, but not anymore. You want to know what I see? You're drifting Clementine. Farther and farther away you go and I don't even know where. You hide things from everyone, I know I'm no special case in this."
Her words sent him pacing around the living room. "What do I hide, huh? Tell me."
"For one, I know you sneak into the city every night. I know you can fight. I saw you. I know for some reason you don't want people to know you can fight. After what Naz did to you this morning you shouldn't be able to walk and yet here you are. Without a scratch. So I know you unlocked your aura. How else would you be able to protect yourself?"
Clementine's right leg throbbed, an echo of a pain long gone. "Maybe I'm just more used to beatings than you think."
Kiera took a deep breath, restraining herself. Clementine knew she probably wanted to throttle him right about now. That's how she handles troublemakers. Despite her attempts to hold back there was always that instinct towards violence that usually got the better of her. It was only Buckets' disarming presence that kept the Mudslingers safe. To his surprise, Kiera composed herself. Her eyes moved behind him where they caught on something.
"What happened to your plant?"
The question punched Clementine right in the gut. He turned to hide his pain. "My sister used to collect them. Among her many jobs she worked in Old Gran's garden. She brought extra seeds home to grow herself. Can you imagine? Hard enough to get things growing in the garden as is. Her plants used to cover every windowsill in the house. Under her care, they lived full lives. I've tried, but they just keep dying on me."
Kiera moved up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "You need to let someone in, Clementine. It doesn't have to be me, just someone. Before you drift so far you no longer recognize yourself in the mirror."
"Please go."
She squeezed his shoulder before turning to leave. The front door shut behind her. Clementine knelt by the wall where the dead plant laid. He scooped it up, cradling the dead thing in his palms. On his way out he stopped by the kitchen table where Kiera left the old fairy tale book. The illustrated cover was faded beyond all recognition. That mystery still called out to him like a song. Clementine forced himself to move past the book.
It was far later in the night than he had expected. Outside, the street was empty. Only the glimmer of light from a few neighboring windows remained. The district slept. There was no better time to wander. Clementine stepped out into ankle deep mud. He trudged through the dark, not needing light to guide his way. The path had become seared into his mind over the years. In his hands, he carried the plant as one might hold a child. As he got closer to his destination the ramshackle streets of the Mud District blackened into charcoal husks. The fire claimed a large chunk of the Mud District, five blocks wide and three deep. Splintered skeletons of buildings were all that remained of a once popular part of the district. In its core were the graves. Buried right in the middle of the street. Twenty tombstones carved out of wood.
Clementine stopped in front of his sister's grave. He rested the dead plant up against the tombstone where so many other plant carcasses remained.
"I couldn't get this one to live any longer than the others. I'm not getting any better at it I think, but I'll keep trying. I remember you struggled with them at first-or at least I think I remember." A despondent chuckle leapt from his throat, "I don't know anymore. Memory is a funny thing, isn't it? Each time I remember something from those days it's a little different. Like I'm painting on new layers. Ones I prefer. Eventually they'll get so distorted they stop becoming a memory and just an imagination."
Clementine turned away, unable to face the tombstone anymore. Tears filled his eyes. "Farewell for now, Risa."
He left the marred graveyard, but not in the direction he came. No, he went north. Deeper into the Mud District. The Spine loomed higher with every passing step. There was an ample amount of space in the Mud District for the three hundred or so people who called it home. However, more than half of the district had become unlivable. The closer one got to the Spine's cliff face the more unstable the ground became. Sinkholes churned like great maws steadily shredding buildings into pieces. It got worse with every day. Nobody risked travelling such parts much less live there.
The mud pulled at Clementine's bare feet as if trying to swallow him. Had he been a sickly boy he might've gotten stuck. Many wandering critters often get snared here. On bad days they would be dinner to those who first came across them. The tops of buildings protruded out of the mud like grasping hands outstretched. Clementine heaved himself over and through the window of a half sunken home.
The ceiling was mostly gone, torn away by the wild forces of nature. Inside, Clementine had only the light of the stars. Its bleak glow cast the half buried home in tones of gray. All that was left in this place were a few broken chairs and a table. Whatever else there was had been picked away by looters long before Clementine arrived. But now this was his place, his secret. One of many. He unlaced and tore away the tarp that shielded his things from the weather. It wasn't much, just a simple map of the city covered in markings and pinned with various papers and articles. Things he had spent years collecting and stealing. Gathering it all here, his modest hub of intelligence.
Clementine stood a moment, studying his collage of information when the building pitched in the mud ever so slightly. He spun around to find a giant climbing through the window.
"I didn't mean to startle you." The giant man swung his last leg inside and cautiously straightened to his full height. As tall as an Ursa. In the moonlight shadows danced across his muscled arms. He had dark skin bronzed by the sun and hyper blue eyes that glistened like two chipped icebergs.
"Why are you here?" hissed Clementine, "How? Without me even noticing…"
Runt moved past him and examined the table. "What is all this?"
"You shouldn't be here."
"Neither should you. No one should. These parts shouldn't be disturbed. Another sinkhole can pop up any time."
"I'm not afraid." Said Clementine.
Runt regarded him with a brittle smile. "No, I suppose you're not."
"Did Kiera ask you to follow me?"
"No. I saw you at the graves and thought you looked troubled."
"What do you care? We're not friends in any sense of the word."
"Right, we never had an opportunity to get to know each other. My name is-"
Clementine stopped him with an upraised hand, "I know who you are."
"As I you." Runt tapped on the blueprint pinned to the table. "This is a map of the city. Administration, Flower, Trade, and Craft. All the districts but our own. And these markings…They're patrol patterns. Why do you have this?"
"I'm a thief." Explained Clementine, "It's good to know the ins and outs of the City Guard."
"But that's not all there is. Locations with descriptions written in…Are these music notes?" Runt's finger hovered over a red X where the Buffer was meant to be. The trepidation in his voice betrayed the anxiety he was trying so hard to hide. "What are you up to Clementine?"
"I think it best for you head back now, tell no one about this place, and leave me alone."
"I…I can't do that."
"Can't?" scoffed Clementine, "You never had a problem with not doing anything before. But now that it hinders me, you finally decide to find your spine?"
"You don't know the first thing about me." Rasped Runt.
"Oh, but I do. Even as a kid I knew what you were."
"You still are a kid."
"Is that what you truly see?" Clementine stepped forward so that they were inches apart. He looked up into the giant's breathtaking eyes and held that stare. "I stopped being a kid the day I got this." Clementine traced a finger down and around his left eye. The horseshoe-shaped scar that surrounded it was easiest to see in the moonlight. "A gift from a guardsman's boot."
"Is that what you're doing? Trying to get payback on the guard that beat you?"
Something less than a smile tugged on Clementine's lips. "I have something to show you." He unpinned several articles and slapped them down in front of Runt. "Check the dates."
Runt did as he was told. The light in the big man's eyes dwindled. "What are these?"
"Newspapers from the week of the fire." Said Clementine, "There is no mention of it in any of them. Why do you think that is? Our suffering, our loss means nothing to those outside this district. We are just an eyesore to them. Something to be cut or burned away!" Clementine's voice grew cold. "My sister was one of many to die that night and they ignored the fact that it even happened. I cannot forget. I won't! Can you?"
Runt's mouth opened and closed but no words emerged. The giant was brought to the edge of tears. Clementine hadn't expected that vulnerability. It disturbed him to see the former leader of the Mudslingers dragged so low by just by a short exchange of words. Clementine shuddered at the rawness of the man's pain. He forced himself to briefly look away. When he came back around, Runt was gone. Vanished without so much as making a sound.
Runt rushed out into the night in full retreat. Fleeing from sorrow and the memories of fire. They pulled on him like chains shackled to his ankles. He'd never be rid of them. They'd always be right behind him, whispering in his ear. And now something new pursued him, Clementine's judgment. His cryptic map left him troubled, but not nearly as much as his violet eyes. There was more than a glint of a secret hidden away in them. One that promised disaster. The intensity of the stare, highlighted by his pale scar. It had shaken Runt…The man's rage. Man? The boy is only sixteen years old. But he has the solemn of someone far beyond his years.
Clementine's face haunted Runt the whole trudge back into the main parts of the district. The boy had awakened something within him that had laid dormant for so long. It was slow to move again. The cobwebs resisted the stirring of emotions. Runt ambled along with no real destination in mind. He was drawn by the sound of snapping wood a few streets away. As he drew closer he could pick up the murmur of voices. He arrived upon the scene. Old Gran's garden fence was destroyed. Fragments of the wooden barrier were scattered across the mud. The rows of vegetation were picked clean and destroyed.
Only five remained by the time he arrived. Mudslingers. Their laughter dwindled to silence when they saw him.
"Runt…what are you doing out here? Figured you'd be passed out in some alley by now." The laughter resumed, but died as quickly as it started. Whatever they saw in Runt's face unsettled them.
"It's Naz, right?"
"Surprised you remember me."
"I never forget a face." Runt looked over all the others. "I haven't forgotten any of you. There was a time when you all called me by my last name, Braun."
"We followed you because we thought you had a plan for us. Those days are over. We've moved on. Sned's our leader now and he's not holding us back none. We could've taken this place over years ago if it weren't for you."
Runt regarded the ruined garden and recalled what he overhead Clementine say at the graves. "Is that what you're doing now? Taking over?" he laughed, "You're forgetting something, Naz. I never had a plan. Never hinted at one either. You've blinded yourselves to your own past. Convincing yourself with lies either self-fabricated or straight from Sned's mouth. You didn't follow me because I had any sort of plan. None of you did. You followed me because you knew, that I was strong and you weak."
The five them shuffled their feet and began murmuring amongst themselves. Naz's thick neck bulged like a pipe ready to pop. He hefted a wooden club in his hand and charged. The war cry that escaped his throat boomed across the street. Half bravery, half stupid. He leaped so that his exaggerated overhead swing could crack Runt on top of his skull. It never reached that far. Runt caught the club with his bare hand. With one arm he pulled it back and whipped it out again, sending Naz flying through the air. He skipped in the mud, coming to a stop at his companions' feet. Using both hands Runt snapped the club like a toothpick and tossed the pieces away.
The others didn't have time to react. In five easy strides Runt was already upon them. They were children to him. He tossed them about like dolls. It was over in seconds.
