After sharing a brief look of surprise, Randall and Loch leaped to their feet, somehow managing not to trip over their chained feet, and shuffled towards the larger boy blocking the doorway with the ease of people used to their restraints. Loch was the first to arrive before the now-opened entrance and looked at their bailer. He was a lean boy in his mid-teens and somehow still retained a light tan on his skin, even after the long winter, which was a clear indicator of the fact he spent most of his time outdoors; from Loch’s memories, he knew the boy standing in his way managed to acquire a part-time job working with the lumberjacks.
“Well, what are you still standing there for, Chester? Help us out of these bloody cuffs, will you?” Loch said, pointing towards the key ring the older boy was casually swirling around his finger.
With a smug, punch-inducing smirk, Chester looked down his nose at Loch and replied, “I don’t remember Mother Superior telling me I had to unlock your chains; she just said I had to unlock the door.”
Randall soon stood next to his friend and gave Chester his signature tight-lipped grin before saying, “Don’t be a wank, Chesty. Just chuck us the keys, and we’ll return them to Mother Leanne’s office when we’re done.”
“Oh no, no. I can’t trust Mother Superior’s keys to you two little monsters. I’m surprised you guys weren’t just thrown to the wolves after what you did. Apparently, Mr. Patterson even brought the constables over; if Mother Superior hadn’t chucked you into the box, I doubt you would have been able to talk your way out of it. All that trouble just over a dying mutant.” Chester said with scorn as he wagged his finger in Loch’s face.
With a quick movement, Loch’s hand shot out like a snake, gripped Chester’s wagging finger, and bent backward, making the large boy squeal in pain. In a rush to help free his trapped finger, Chester dropped the keys, which Randall quickly scooped up. As Randall bent over to unlock his restraints, Chester was trying his full force to free his finger, which was turning purple under the pressure; however, even with his free hand added in, he couldn’t force Loch’s fist apart. Loch gave the other boy a dead stare, knowing that the other boy had no hope of trying to pry his hand apart; due to having to rely only on his right hand for many years, Loch’s good working arm was significantly strengthened.
“Soil you Loch! Let go! Or I’ll tell Mother Superior.” Chester yelled out after several more unsuccessful attempts.
“Next time, don’t be so long-winded,” Loch replied as he released the older boy’s finger while shoving the boy backward slightly as he followed up with, “Now bugger off, you twat.”
After taking a couple of stumbling steps back, Chester shot a venomous glare at Loch while he rubbed his finger before spitting out, “You little scourge, just you wait, you little freaks will all be purged one day.”
“Is that a threat? Do you want to end up like Billy?” Loch uttered in response as his gaunt-like face in Chester’s eyes took on a more monstrous-looking appearance in the shadow of the tin shed’s doorway.
Without uttering another word, Chester merely sneered in mock bravado and took quick steps away, heading across the snow-swept field towards the sizeable barn-like building. Seeing the older boy retreat, Loch turned back to his friend with a cheeky grin, as the dead-eyed look was completely wiped off his face. “Haha, using Billy’s disappearance was such a good idea when dealing with those bullies.” Loch laughed.
Randall shook his head at his friend’s foxlike grin as he bent down to unlock Loch’s restraints now that he had taken his own off. While he was doing that, he replied, “It’s working for now, but you better hope Billy doesn’t just suddenly turn up, or you are so screwed. That psycho will rip you apart. Ha.”
“Ahh, I’m not worried. If that bully turns up again, I might really make him disappear.” Loch said the last part with a little too much venom than a boy his age should express.
After the clinking sound of chains hitting the floor after being freed, Randall stood up and gave his friend another headshake. He didn’t chastise Loch for his slightly evil thoughts as he knew better than anyone how much Billy used to torment his friend. With a simple pat to bring his friend’s attention to him, as it looked like Loch’s mind was wandering. “Come on, mate. We better hurry. Now we are free; we can get those berries off Jack and cure Lacey.”
“True. She can’t be doing too well with just those two nit-wit brothers looking after her. Can you take the keys back to Mother Leanne’s office yourself? I’ll get the squirrel off Jack and head to Grandma’s place to brew the tincture.” Loch asked after Randall reminded him of what was most important.
“No problemo. I’ll cover for you if I’m unlucky enough to bump into her and see if I can scrounge us up some scraps for breakfast.” Randall replied.
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“Don’t worry too much about breakfast. I’ll get Granny to make the squirrel into a broth for us. It’ll be much better.” Loch said as he couldn’t help his stomach grumble in protest at the talk of food.
“Oh, that would be awesome. Well, hurry off then and get us some grub. Just ensure that old Witch doesn’t put you into the broth.” Randall joked with a cheeky grin as he began to make his way toward the larger building across from their previous accommodation, which started to produce the clitter-clatter of multiple people moving about.
Seeing the large building’s inhabitants starting to awaken fully, Loch quickly rushed over to the left side of the building closest to the crumbling wall, where a few bare foliage trees stood. As he arrived at the foot of a tree, Loch looked left and right before letting out a gentle whistle into the brisk air of the morning. Looking further up the trunk, he could make out a smooth hollow the size of a head about eight feet up, as if in answer to his whistle, a black feathered head with a grey mohawk stuck its head out and looked around. Jack the Raven noticed Loch immediately, and after letting out a soft caw in excitement, he leaped from his hollow with the treasured squirrel in tow. After dropping the squirrel in Loch’s waiting hand, Jack took his customary spot on Loch’s shoulder and rubbed his beak on his cheek.
After double-checking that the berries were still in the squirrel’s pouch, Loch wrapped the animal in his tattered blanket as if it were made of gold. Then, he gave Jack a gentle scratch on his head while whispering, “Good job, buddy. Now, let’s head to Granny’s. She might even have one of those glow worms for you.” With a caw in excitement at the possible treat, Jack took to the skies and circled above Loch’s head.
Loch then headed over to the crumbing wall and quickly passed over a part that was half missing the majority of the stones, entering a street about two carts wide. Walking along the mismatched cobblestone sidewalk to avoid the muddied center of the road, Loch entered a connecting street from the orphanage that was known to the area as Sweet Street. It was not the official name but was more of a sarcastic comment made by the residents due to the disgusting smell that filled the area most of the time. The majority of the buildings along this street were shop fronts, along with a couple of rough-looking lodging houses. This was one of the better-kept areas of the district known as The Shambles, which took up only about an eighth of the city known as Hornburg, even though it made up half of the population of the immense walled city.
As Loch began to head down the familiar streets he had trounced upon many a time, he watched as the sleepy town started to come awake fully. With shop owners unlocking doors, while neatly but drabbed dressed shop assistants hung products or wrote the current day specials on chalkboards and placed them upon the cobblestone sidewalks. Loch sped up his walk every time he made his way past a bakery, with the mouthwatering smells of fresh bread wafting out of their open doors or the scent of cooked assortments coming from popup stalls that begun to line up the more heavily trafficked spots on the streets, that many a worker or shopper would pass. Loch was just about to leave the so-called commercial district of the Shambles and head towards the more run residential area when he spotted someone who truly did not fit in. A middle-aged man was walking along the pathway on a direct course for Loch. There were several things about the man that made him stand out in a place like the Shambles, like his clothes; he was dressed in a stylish three-piece suit with a dark red vest, a matching top hat, and a cane with what looked like a lion head sculpted on top. His clothes weren’t exactly out of place; some of the more successful residents of the Shambles also wore suits, but they did not compare to the one this man was wearing. It did not have the look of multiple wears or the sewn-in spots from tears. It was immaculate. His face also had a picture-perfect clean to it, with a carefully manicured thin mustache that had a slight curl to the sides.
However, one thing that truly set the man apart from the general residents of the Shambles was his bearing. With his perfectly erect, confident posture, he didn’t have the slight hunch to the shoulders like the many people who passed him, giving the man the curious but fearful eye; his back was as straight as a plank of wood and exuded strength and dignity. It was mainly reflected in the way he looked to glide along the path, as if every foot he placed was with the complete assuredness of himself and where he sat in the world. Because Loch’s full attention was focused entirely on the oddly placed man, he also noticed the dirty, wrinkled hand that deftly swept in and out of the cane-wielding man’s jacket pocket from behind. The figure of an older, shifty-looking man, with his filth-covered grey hair and scraggly beard, took off from behind the man with something clutched in his grime-covered fingers.
Loch was suddenly frozen in indecision as to whether he should yell out to the dapper-dressed man that he was just pickpocketed or smirk in glee at the clearly well-off man’s misfortune. As his morally better side got the best of him, he began to open his mouth to call out a warning; it, however, was soon left open in stunned silence instead. The middle-aged man only paused for a brief moment once the thief began to run after his successful pickpocket, along with a briefly muttered “Fool” from the well-dressed man; he stretched out his hand to the fleeing thief as if he was expecting his stolen item would just fly back to him; instead, something almost more amazing happened. In a blink of an eye, the suit-wearing man’s hand morphed into a three-finger claw, closely resembling a large eagle’s talon, that was even tipped with razor-sharp-looking curved nails. The transformation didn’t stop there, however, as if his sleeve was a clown car, the well-dressed man’s arm suddenly elongated almost twenty meters within but a moment, the flesh that was revealed from his sleeve did not resemble a normal human skin at all; it seemed to have developed what appeared to be blackened scales, and more resembled a whip as if his arm suddenly had no bones.
Also similar to a whip was the sound of a loud ‘crack’ from the elongated monstrous arm snapping out towards the fleeing thief’s retreating form. The now talon-looking hand grabbed the fleeing thief by the back of his skull, his sharpened claws puncturing the old man’s flesh with ease and bringing the thief to a dead stop, and before the thief could scream in pain or fright, he was pulled back to the gentleman within the time it took to blink however he was not taking in a straight line but was instead brought back in a curve. Shooting straight up into the air as if he were a human kite before being slammed back down to earth and face first into the dirt-covered cobblestones with an earthquake tumbling ‘bang’ right in front of the well-dressed gentlemen’s feet. The force of the old thief’s skull hitting the path caused spiderweb cracks to spread out from the impact spot, leaving a slight depression in the dirt. The thief’s head scattered out in bits as the old man’s face and brains spread in all directions as if someone had smashed a water bomb filled with blood onto the ground.
Loch knew he should probably start fleeing, like almost all the other people who were on the same street. Still, he was stuck staring at the well-dressed man, not because of the casual murder; he had seen people killed in worse ways walking the dark streets of the Shambles at night and not the freaky way the man’s arm morphed but as the man bent down to pick up, with a now normal looking human hand, what looked like a billfold from the now dead thief’s hand, Loch saw that the man’s vest breast pocket, that was previously hidden by his overcoat, held a silver badge pinned to it that looked to be about a finger long. The silver badge was in the shape of a shield with an engraving of a saber coming up against what looked like the palm of a dragon’s claw as if blocking it from descending. Loch couldn’t help but say out loud in his excitement and surprise at the sight, “Hunter!”