{Night 10: Malik's Conviction}

"Th-they'll be okay, right...?" Hassan whispered.

"Of course. They're both strong, physically and magically." his father reassured.

I grit my teeth, digging my nails into my palms. After leaving the quack and Mira to fight the slavers, we'd run to the village. Hassan's father had gathered us all together, and now we were waiting at the well.

Kahil startled me, touching my shoulder. I almost whacked him good in the nose.

"What's wrong?" I asked, frowning.

"... Thank you."

"I didn't do nuffin', brat. I ran scared." I muttered darkly. Kahil was very quiet, looking dedicatedly at his feet as he stood over me. "Well, I didn't! I ran! I can't protect myself, I can only run like a rat in a trash-heap!"

Zaria and Chaya looked at me in concern, and Hassan shuffled his feet. His father said and did nothing. Uriel made upset noises and tried to nuzzle me, but I pushed him away.

"... You stood up for me."

I blinked, looking up at Kahil in confusion.

"No one ever pays any attention to slaves... because I tripped and fell, dropping the stuff I was carrying, I was beaten pretty badly, and I even lost my eye... and not a single person in the streets paid any mind. I took advantage of being left for dead and ran... but I knew... I knew they would look for me... My only option was to keep running forever or die... B-but you...!"

He was crying, tears spilling from his eye as he quivered.

Slowly, slowly, I stood up.

"Rots stick t'gether, don't we? I mean, yer Kahil." I muttered, reaching out to pat his head.

He sniffled, hiding behind his hands.

Before anything else could happen, Zaria screamed happily. Recovering from the heart-attack it gave me, I turned to see Master Alban and Mira coming back. About halfway to us, Mira waved vaguely and turned in the direction of her village. Master Alban waved, muttering something as he came close.

"You brats did pretty well for runnin' away. Whicha ya burnt 'em?"

Zaria wiggled her stick somewhat proudly.

"And th' one was sludged?"

Kahil pointed to me.

"Hassan got us out of the depression faster than we could've climbed using a spell or something." I muttered.

"Impressive teamwork from you all. At the rate you're growing, you'll outdo Kadar as heroes." Hassan's father smiled.

"... Who's Kadar...?" Kahil asked quietly as we all started to head home. Because of the threat of slavers, Chaya was staying the night with Hassan and his family.

"... He was my dad. Died when I was just a baby, poisoned by bandits. My ring was his." I said bluntly.

Kahil said nothing.

"Yer slow! Ur, pick 'im up!" I ordered, tucking my hands behind my head.

"What?! No, wai— Ow! That hurts!"

"Then ya shouldn't walk so slow!"

Uriel bounced over next to me, Kahil clinging to his neck with his eye bulging out of his socket. "I can't help it! My legs are shorter and weaker than yours!" he whined.

"Then we'll hafta start joggin' ya around town at noon an' midnight!"

"What?! No! I'll die!"

"Quit exaggeratin'!" I scolded, reaching out to whack him on the head. He seemed to know I was planning that, and fell to the side so I missed.

We were just coming inside our house when Kahil asked, "Hey, Mal? Did your dad ever do anything like you?"

My mom wasn't there, I noticed. Probably out looking for supper. I was on my own this time around.

"I don't understand."

"Anything like the cat and me." Kahil elaborated, climbing down from Uriel's back and moving over to his spot. This was where he was always chained up.

I was quiet, thinking. I looked at Uriel, then Kahil. Remembering that I still couldn't trust him not to run away, I moved over and reattached the chain to the wall.

As I did, I murmured, "No... I don't think he did..."

"... Then haven't you already outdone him as a hero...?"

I wasn't able to answer.

That night, I couldn't get to sleep, thinking about what Kahil had said. I wound up going outside and running to the well. It was quiet and still outside, especially around the well.

Exhaling, I watched the steam of my breath heat the moonlit-air. It wasn't that it was cold out, it was that my sudden late-night run had tired me out and made my breath hot, escaping in steamy pants. The small, almost invisible clouds of heat disappeared rapidly in the silver moonlight.

Had I become a bigger hero than my dad?

I dug into my pocket for the ring. Taking it out, I slid it onto my right pointer-finger.

To my surprise, it all but fit.

I gasped a little, flexing my fingers and turning my hand about. The ring slipped around some, but stayed on pretty well for the most part.

I stared at the silver claw that now adorned my hand.

Kadar, my father, once wore this ring. It was like a part of him.

I looked up to the moon, blinking.

He had been like a leader for the Rotters. Someone that Rots as anarchists were willing to follow loyally. He fought against bandits, slavers, and pirates countless times, turning them away and driving them back. Because of my father, the border of the Rotter-turf had been maintained and guarded, in a sense.

I wasn't doing anything like that.

... But... he had only saved Rotters.

... I had dragged a snow-sabre out of the ocean and was raising it... I had pulled a Not-Rot boy from slavery and was kinda raising him too... It wasn't anything major. It wasn't like I'd single-handedly beaten up a shark to save Uriel. And I'd run away in fear from the slavers today. I was just a snot-nosed brat who happened to have done a few good deeds.

In the eyes of Uriel and Kahil, though, who had never met or heard of my father, was I better?

I ground my teeth in frustration as my thoughts went in circles. It wasn't like I was living in his shadow— Why was I so hung up on this?

Unable to draw a conclusion to that question either, I swung my legs over the edge of the well and sat on the weathered stones. I kicked my feet back and forth, periodically hitting the bucket-rope. This caused it to swing around. Below me, in the darkness, I could hear it hit the sides a few times. If I closed my eyes and concentrated, I could faintly hear the water rushing past. I stopped kicking and tilted my head back. My heels rested against the inner stones of the well-wall, and I curled my fingers over the edge so I wouldn't fall, either forward or back. The well-water wasn't burbling or rushing, not flowing or passing idly by, but... it was moving. And I could hear that motion, relaxed and easy-going as it ran it's course.

That was how I wanted to live my life. But in this filthy world where we lived every day as someone else's stepping-stone, that just wasn't possible.

My eyes slid open a crack, staring up at the dusty moon.

My dad, Kadar, had been a hero.

It wasn't that I wanted to be a hero. I just wanted to change how people saw us. Everyone looked down on us and treated us the same as the garbage they threw into our country. I hated that and wanted them to see us as more. Because we were. Rotters were just as good as any other human on this fucking mudball.

"... Hero or not, I'll make the damn Not-Rots see that... that they can't ignore us and treat us like we aren't good enough to lick the dirt from their shoes... We have our pride too, and mine won't stand for this shit..." I muttered, pushing the questions I had bouncing around my head out.

I wasn't living in my father's shadow. I wouldn't stand for living in the shadow of everyone else, and I doubted he would either.

OOOOooooOOOOooooOOOO

A/N: I'm alive!

School's a bitch. And since I'll be going to college directly after I graduate, I've got a buttload of crap to do, job-hunting included...

Anyway, enjoy the chapter.