Author: xtwoleftfeetx PM
Mouse and Dexter live on an island named Pedline with people who own a magical power they recieved at the age of 17. Unfortunately, even after they gained their powers, they are poor so they must steal. No one can expect what will happen in this adventureRated: Fiction K+ - English - Fantasy/Adventure - Words: 2,848 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 1 - Follows: 1 - Published: 02-02-09 - id: 2630651
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Mouse stealthily maneuvered through the trash on the street. Quick, quiet, controlled. Quick, quiet, controlled. That's what Dexter had taught her. She glanced back to make sure Dexter was still behind her and his bright, icy blue eyes pierced through her. He was a better thief than her all around, but he was blind; therefore, she had to lead.
Though he was blind, he had no problem seeing. All he had to do was listen and smell. Their hearing, sense of smell, perception, and Mouse's sight is better than anyone else's on the island. Dexter knows Mouse, not only by the sound of her footsteps, but also by her smell, as by she knew him. No one has an identical smell or sound on the island. They both could know who, what, when, where, and how any time they wanted.
Mouse slowed from her sprint, thinking. This happened every time they crossed over into rich territory. She used to be one of the richest; young Madison Calepsi. She lived with her wealthy widowed mother and got everything she ever desired.
The rich always get pirated, like the sparrows always get ate by the superia, large crane-shaped beasts with no feathers and a leather feel to their blue wings. A night, dark and rainy like this, she heard a rustle on the weak roof. Nothing but a bird, she told herself, for nothing but a bird's weight could our weak roof hold. If it was a bird, it was coming in the drawing room, via locked window. She didn't really believe sparrows could pick locks.
"Who dare awaken my slumber?" She demanded, more authorized and stronger than she felt. The light footsteps continued. "I know you are still here! I can here your footsteps continue!" The almost silent footsteps stopped abruptly. She quickly lit a candle and extended it into the room. A young boy, twelve maybe, same age as her, gazed with extraordinary ice blue eyes, covered with a cloudy film. His hair, natural blue and chopped off at his ears, was barely visible underneath his darkened and dirty sage handkerchief. "You're blind," she said bluntly, but gently.
"I am not, now run along," he said with a sense of pride.
"Humph, a blind thief, how ironic."
"I am not blind," he stated again. This time he sounded weak, offended, and broken down.
"How many fingers am I holding up?"
"Three?" He whispered.
She looked down at her fingers shamefully. "Five," she whispered back. The boy's head dropped, and she looked ponderously at him. "You wait here," she whispered. Few seconds passed before she came back with armfuls of food. Instantly he smelled it and rather rudely snatched it out of her arms and starting engulfing it quickly, as if someone was going to take it from him. "...Your name?"
The boy hesitated, and Madison fiddled with her fingers on the floor, hopeful. After a swallow, he whispered so that only she could here; "Dexter."
With natural manners, she replied, but not her real name. A nickname her deceased father once addressed her by long ago. "Mouse."
"Mouse," he repeated.
"You don't have to whisper, my mother and I are the only ones in this dwelling. Long ago she had lost her hearing to the rough waves of the ocean crashing against the solemn rocks. Dreadful it was, the only way of communicating was paper, and mother did not know how to read. After learning a few written words, she started to understand lip movement. You still have to talk slow for her to understand, but it is better than nothing." This was the longest she had talked in ages. Long conversations weren't very common in her house, and she missed that.
The young boy, Dexter, seemed to be more silent than before. This, as she knew, was due to the fact that he could relate.
"And your dad?" He asked, not caring if he imposed.
"He died trying to escape this island. Says it drove him mad. Found some way to get passed the deadwall and tried to sail away. We were fined for the repairs to the wall, and his body finally floated back to us. We had to watch it decay daily. They wouldn't let us out to burn it." This didn't hurt her much to talk about it, since she already had her nights to cry. Instead she just clenched to her locket he gave her for her sixth birthday.
"I'm sorry, that must have been terrible."
"Indeed it was...and your parents?"
"Mine? Eh. No big story. They fought the remique. They lost. I was given to a rich family. At the age of pre-adulthood, they turned me out on the streets. The remique came, gave me the brand of a ghetto boy."
"Terrible." She looked down and patiently waited for him to finish eating. She was the first to break the silence. "Take me with you." Her whisper was barely audible but she knew he heard her. She made sure to say it quick, as if to prevent herself from taking it back.
He paused. Mouse guessed he was somewhat shocked, though his face showed no emotion. "No, you are not a pirate, you won't know what you are doing."
"I'll let you steal from me. Anything from gold, to clothes, to food. You can teach me how. And besides, not to be cruel, my instincts are of the best on this island. My navigational inter- monologue can guide us anywhere. I have been all over the island. I know where I'm going -" she hesitated, "- with my eyes closed."
He winced slightly, and she clenched her teeth, feeling regret. "Prove it," he said.
She knew from the warnings that thieves needed precise hearing. She reached one finger down to the hardwood floor and slowly tapped his now rising heartbeat.
He nodded his head slowly. "Still, I will be accused of kidnapping. Ghetto boys don't get a trial."
"Ghetto kids mostly stay hidden, and new ones are born everyday. The rich suddenly go poor. It will not be very abnormal." She couldn't believe he was actually considering it.
"My mother will be fine. I'll leave my savings and a suicide note. I'm going to touch the deadwall. She doesn't bother with me. I'm old enough to care for myself, make the right decisions."
With this Dexter smirked. "I guess I have no choice. Grab as much food as you can carry. And gold. Gold goes a long way in the ghetto."
She smiled. That day will forever stay perfectly set into her mind.
"Quick, quiet, controlled." Dexter's voice was barely a whisper. That was her one and only warning, any other mistakes and she would have to be docked pay. She nodded, but then remembered he was blind. "Yes." I am a ghetto kid now, she told herself, I am automatically a criminal.
It wouldn't be much longer now. They will be hitting rich land soon. But first. "Enemy territory," Mouse hissed. Dexter sighed heavily through his nose. A sign of acknowledgment, and, in this case, disgust. The moon, glowing green as it did occasionally, for reasons unknown, cast large shadows connecting to the ancient mud-stone buildings. Perfect, she thought as she slithered into them, followed by Dexter.
They slunk silently through the mysterious, unforgiving dark. Dexter's acute hearing served as a tremendous help. A click of his tongue or a pop of the lips, maybe even a double step said where someone was, how far away, and how to avoid them.
They stayed in the constant dark. A few more feet and they would be out of enemy territory. Ugh, the Proveted, Mouse thought. The proveted were lower-class thieves who stole from the ghetto when someone got a steal. Unlike Mouse and Dexter, the Pirates, who are dirty and smudgy, the Proveted were so miserably dirty you could literally barely see them at night. They always seemed tan, and their hair was always black.
Just a little further.
"Hello lovely," said a raspy voice ahead. Dexter knew he was there before Mouse, but even Mouse knew before Avyeir did. She was planning ways to get around when he finally noticed them. Avyeir stepped into the moon's glisten, his yellow teeth showing in his awful grin.
"Avyeir! Darling! I see you still haven't saved up enough stolen cash to buy yourself a toothbrush," Mouse said sarcastically, with a crooked grin. Dexter's corner of his lip turned up a little as well; though it wasn't until 5 years ago when Mouse left home and took an extra toothbrush for him. Now, Dexter's teeth shines near as bright as hers.
Avyeir scowled at the both of them. Dexter tapped his foot once to show they were wasting too much time. Mouse responded with a sniff and wiped her nose, telling him to be patient.
"Still more dainty than I, I see. At least I have some muscle to camouflage my organs...has your liver shrunk?" She added more energy and sarcasm than she felt, for she hadn't eat in a couple of days. Avyeir looked down, searching for his liver. Dexter's lip curl grew into a grin, though he only grew more anxious. This, Mouse had already sensed.
"I'd love to sit here and gab with you, Avyeir, but I have prior engagements." She spoke as she did when she was once surrounded by rich-folk, or the "Pure". This sent chills up Dexter's spine.
It reminded him of the first time he met her. Then he had no idea what she looked like, or her character, but something told him he could trust her. She later described herself for him. Though he only wanted to hear her talk, he also gained an image in his head of what she appeared as.
"You're about 5'11" so I'm probably 5'3". My hair, no matter how repulsively nasty it should be, stays its glorious natural white color, and silk to the touch. My skin is as white as my hair and my eyes are a gray color."
"Are you fit? Not to be rude, but a thief must be fit," he asked, not only making small talk.
"I know, and yes, I am. I was proclaimed poor once, because I was 1/8 the size of normal pure."
He loved to hear her talk then. He still does now, but her accent has faded away, however the ring to her voice has stayed forever.
"Get away from me!" Dexter heard Mouse shout. Before Dexter could rush in, she had already clapped her hand over both his ears hard enough to bust an eardrum. Dexter heard it right as it popped. At that note, they took off sprinting into Pure land.
They floated like obangees into the luminous street lights. Mouse was fortunate enough to catch an obangee once, but its furry wings and body, and its eight legs tickled itself free from her hands. Catching an obangee, which fly eight miles an hour, means you have great patience, agility, and all around eyesight.
It was safe for Mouse to walk in the streets. Often sajas, or spirits, roamed through the island and disappeared in the deadwall surrounding the horridly ancient state of Pedline. However, Dexter still needed to slither through the darkness. She could sense his agitation emitting off of him like a heat lamp. Concentrating hard enough, she began to put use her new-found talent. She cleared her mind and searched for his, and then bit her cheek.
"Its not fair. I turn seventeen soon! I should already have my gift. I'm so behind everyone else on the island. Dammit!"
She smiled. "You're about a nine on the jealousy scale there." He hissed playfully, then realized they were coming up on their target. Calamma Des Medaghakha's three story house. And, oops, there was requim , or reinforcement, guarding.
Mouse cursed under her breath and they slipped into the nearest abandoned house. She looked questioningly at Dexter as he winced and grabbed at his back. "Are you alright?" She asked so quietly that she didn't even disturb the air.
"Yeah, 's nothing," he whispered back. She doubted him but left it alone.
"Okay, I think we can slip in through the wind vent, and then--" she cut off as she watched him grimace and wince and hiss in breaths.
"'s nothing," he tried reassuring her.
"Okay, thats it. I'm taking you to see Sleak. He'll know what to do."
"No. Just look at my back and tell me what you see." He raised up his thin navy shirt and instantly Mouse stifled a scream.
"What? What is it?" He demanded.
"We gotta see Sleak, now." Her tone was serious, but her touch was soft. Dexter couldn't tell her no. He thought the pain impaired his judgment, but he still knew he couldn't tell her no.
They made it through the proveted easier than before. Mouse assumed Avyeir was with Lacey, or that he felt her "urgent, will kill anybody who gets in my way" mood. Either way she didn't care. She needed to get Dexter to the only doctor that would treat ghetto kids, since he himself worked his way out of the ghetto.
She was practically dragging Dexter along the way since he was in too much agony to walk it his own. She could hear his thoughts over everyone else's, and all she could hear was screaming. She thought back on the day she finally got her gift, no more than a week ago on her birthday. Then she realized that Dexter was loudest to her, because she cared most for him. She could hear him all the way across the island.
Wait. She stopped to think. Dexter's birthday was close to hers, but it was after hers. He turns seventeen today. His magic is finally settling in. She cursed and began running faster.
The power given with the age of adulthood was never, ever the same. Doctor's had guessed at some powers soon to be given, and Sleak had a list of them all. He would know about the knots appearing near Dexter's shoulder blades.
She knocked hurriedly on the driftwood door, and could hear Sleak stir inside. She tapped her foot impatiently on his sidewalk of leaves.
A plump man, bluish in the face eased the driftwood open enough to peer out at two fresh adults, eyes big with worry.
"What brings you two at my door tonight?" He asked, a little sleepy.
Sleak knew Mouse's father way back. When Mouse was four they developed a secret language.
"Ghadmen darkchet magh," which meant, "I need a favor."
"Step into my office. No, not you Dexter, just Mouse," he said as Dexter began to follow. He handed Dexter a leaf to burn to fill the room with a relaxing fresh aroma, then led Mouse through the nearest door.
"Your welcome," he said. "So, what is it you find so important to wake me up at mid-dark?"
"Its Dexter. I need the list of powers you and your friends created. Today is Dexter's seventeenth birthday, and he has knots near his shoulder blades."
Sleak took a moment to take this in, and didn't really look persuaded.
She slid her sharkskin pack off her shoulder and threw some more aroma leaves at him. He took one, set it ablaze, and then searched for a scroll. She breathed through her mouth.
He found the parchment in a drawer in the old, rugged desk, then singled out a book on birds.
"Your friend's gift is of the avian decent. If I could look I'd be able to confirm, but I'm near positive the little twerp is sprouting wings."
She wanted to growl at the twerp remark but left it be. She realizes that Sleak wanted her with her mother, not with a young man.
She followed him out into the main room where Dexter sat, relaxed. She pulled him up and saw that the knots were now visible through his shirt.
"Pokhett masut rofkhag." With that the doctor turned and squeezed his way to his bedroom.
Dexter looked up at Mouse confused. She leaned down to his level and started to help his body move, since the burning leaves paralyzed the muscles for hours. "What that meant," she said, "was that you are growing wings."
"Oh great, my powers."
She couldn't tell if he was being serious or sarcastic so she just struggled into position and lifted him onto her back. She used all her strength and energy to carry him six blocks away, and lay him on the stacks of blankets and pillows on the floor.