For Those Nocturnal

Rain.

Hour after hour it slunk through the city, sinister and cold, sweeping away the day’s grime and detritus with sheets of slithering silver. It pattered onto awnings and rooftops, darkening and weighing down the canvas and silks with the weight of its depression. A nest of thick, tangled trees of the jungle outside the city’s boundaries lashed and twirled in the wind, their unorthodox dance landing somewhere between a street performer’s routine and the panicked thrashing of a prey animal in the throes of death. The shadows of the great skeleton that guarded the city loomed ominously above, the smooth crescents of ribs and gnarled sky-high bridge of a spine glimmering white in between silver drops. Murky rivulets of fallen runoff patrolled the streets, more meticulous and skilled in their cleaning than any hired street-sweeper--and infinitely more effective at chasing out unwanted refuse.

A nest of children huddled in the gap between two black-stone buildings, their glimmering eyes peering out of their hiding place, mesmerized by the falling of the rain. There were six whelps in all, five boys and a girl. Each was dressed in rags and scraps fished from discard bins and stolen from market stalls, and their long black hair hung in thick curtains of knots and tangles. Though most were huddled tightly together, one had already succumbed to the storm. His body was slumped at the other end of the alcove, where they did not need to meet his cold, glazed, salmon-orange eyes.

They were not even ten years old.

The largest of the siblings was positioned at the front, with the youngest and smallest tucked protectively next to him. She held a dirty, knotted tassel in her scaly little hands, which she gazed down at with wonder. Dingy and faded though the dulled golden threads had become, it was the finest thing she had ever held in her short, un-noteworthy life. And, according to her brother, it was hers to keep. When she saw it glinting in the shadows of a market stall, she had snatched it from the corner without hesitation. Its dazzling, sparkling light had whispered promises of wealth and splendor to her that she had never once in her life known, and she wanted deeply to have just a slice of the grown-ups’ grandeur for herself.

Her brother placed a hand onto her head, his fingers curling between her curling, still-stubby horns and gently stroking her hair. His fingers swished in soothing rings upon her scalp, the precise pattern meant more to calm himself than her; but she still nuzzled into his hand, grateful for any presence. Though they were all the same age, give or take a few moments, only the idealistic girl held the ignorance of youth. Her five older siblings were all too aware of the nest’s gruesome circumstances, but instinct compelled them to stay together--for better and for worse.

Marching boots passed by the front of their little gap. It was a routine patrol, but even still, something about the soft rustle of their fine steel-toed boots struck fear into their cold little hearts. The procession of guards glanced around, hefting their visible weapons with a too-eager shine in their tilted, animalistic eyes. She knew from experience that they surely had more tools of harm hidden in their clothing; tucked up their sleeves, strapped on boots and thighs, elegantly folded into the spaces between capelets and sashes and tunics, hidden like the fangs of serpents. It was simply common practice in the city; even the smallest, young as she was, had a plain little blade squirreled away up her right sleeve. Her mother had told her many core-cycles ago that all good snakes named each of their teeth, so after much deliberation, she’d lovingly taken to calling it Seili.

One of the vipers on patrol swept past the gap they hid in, his boots throwing a mist of rain into the place the nest of siblings had settled. They scuttled back in a scaly tide, trying to avoid the splash. Unfortunately, the littlest one wasn’t fast enough. A spray of dirtied water struck her on the cheek, and she scuttled back, her ratty sleeves barely sheltering her. A hiss of displeasure followed near immediately after, and her siblings pulled back. Even her oldest brother would not protect her now.

The guard’s pointed ears flicked up, and he approached the crack in the wall with a cross between intrigue and hunger. His long, silver-scaled tail swept gently over the street, and he lowered his weapon to point into the gap. Whether he could not see the other children, or whether he was simply ignoring them, none of the nest could tell; but they did not care why he did not engage with them, only that he would leave them alone.

Seized by a feral fear, the smallest of the children tried to run away from the guard, scrambling up from her position and rushing down the cobbled street; but the uneven stones were slick and wet, and she tumbled to the ground with a wince. Her hands were ripped to bits upon the rocks, their jagged teeth tearing gashes into her sensitive skin. Blood poured out in a drizzling cascade, red on red, only to be washed away with the rest of the dirt.

She did not cry out.

Hissing and clicking amongst themselves, the full patrol of guards drew nearer to her; some tilted their heads in concern for the lost child, while others simply narrowed their slit-pupiled eyes. Innocent as she looked, she was just another homeless leech; another bit of filth to be flicked away for the benefit of those who paid to walk these streets. In sharp voices, they claimed that the laws of the city stated that whelps were not to roam unaccompanied; and though the littlest child believed their threats, she held no care for laws anyway. Seemingly annoyed by her lack of responsiveness, they raised their weapons, skipping from questions to direct, brutal threats in an instant.

Still, she did not cry out.

She would not be easy prey.

Hands shaking, she withdrew Seili from its sheath within her right sleeve and faced the guards. They chuckled, not fully believing that such a small whelp was planning to fight back--but their amusement faltered slightly when she lunged. Small as she was, she’d fought more than once in her short life; for food, for a spot to sleep, to protect her brothers, or simply to survive. The guards had been raised in normal homes, within a culture as metaphorically cutthroat as her own; however, they’d never had to scrape and slither merely to keep breath in their lungs.

But she had.

In a dash of twists and underhanded strikes, she cut through them like one of the fabled assassins of the high city; opponent after opponent fell to her humble little blade, for she was a fearsome, well-trained warrior of Thorntangle’s elite, and they were mere fools who had been stupid enough to interrupt her during an undercover mission. Or, at least, that was how she saw it. In truth, the frenzied smallest child with scraped and bleeding hands was unable to do much; but the child did slash through one of the guards’ sleek black-and-gold leggings and cause her to stagger momentarily, leaving the guardswoman mildly surprised at the sight of crimson  blood dripping down her cut-open thigh.

But the fight could not last for long at all, and soon the child was bested. Her blade was plucked from her hand and tossed aside, earning from her a hiss of displeasure at the cruel gesture. The guards thus closed in, emboldened by their small victory; but still, she would not be defeated. She would not be taken down for simply wanting what all the others had.

And so she ran. Faster than she had ever ran before, as quick as her not-yet-ten-year-old legs could carry her, across slick stones and up rain-soaked staircases. Once she found an adequate place, she tucked herself away to hide; and there, hidden by a basket that had been left behind when the rains had started to fall, she took on her other shape. A little serpent, black and red, quickly slithered away from the place where the whelp had been moments before. She coiled up among the shadows, watching through slitted coral-pink eyes as the guards searched from below; when they eventually wandered off, the little serpent allowed herself a moment to smile.

Rhea had survived yet again.