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The cold, salty sea air bit into my flesh as I hurriedly scaled the ladder to the roof of my shop. The last thing I needed was for anyone to see my skulking around rooftops, clearly up to something. I curled my fingers around the top rung of the rickety wooden ladder and hoisted myself onto the roof and scanned around, finally glancing backwards to make sure that no one was following me. Leaping across the slanted tiles, I crossed to the next building.

For nearly the hundredth time that evening, a surge of second guesses and doubts hit me. Can I do something else? Will this even work? Will I get caught? I reassured myself and continued to bridge the narrow gaps between the shops of Holensdale’s expansive market. Hardly anyone would be out in the streets at that time, and even if someone were, I could simply crouch down and remain motionless against the brittle ceramic roofs.

“If only I were flying…” I muttered. The still wind and thick cloud cover were perfect conditions for flying undetected. I twitched my cramped wings uncomfortably in the bulky jacket I was forced to wear. If I could have my way, I would simply take to the sky... but there was Mom. She would never agree to leave home, if we could even call it that.

I briefly flashed back to the year before, recalling a time when Draki could walk in public without fear of persecution. A time when I didn't have to hide who I was, and didn't have to fear ordinary people. Things were different now, and there was nothing I could do about it.

After a good amount of looking, I finally found what I was looking for, an open window. I dropped into the alley, bending my knees underneath me and landing like a cat. The only thing that could be in the alley would be rats and puddles from the gutters. If a human were hiding in the backstreet, I would hear them. It never ceased to amaze me how loud such beings could be when they were trying to be still. Well at least I don’t have to do this in the rain, I thought, glancing up at the dark, foreboding cloud cover that drifted low across the night sky.

I returned my attention to my task. On the other side of the window was a small room-barely more than a closet- that withheld crates and bags of goods, wares, and food. Just a storage room, I thought. Steeling my nerves, I latched onto the windowsill and hefted myself into the room.

I stepped down as lightly as possible, but the window was high up, and the weight of my entire body dropping from the window was more than enough to make the wood creak loudly. I paused in midstep, and my heart skipped a beat. No noise came from the upstairs, and I cautiously proceeded into the next room, my feet lightly stepping, heel-toe.

I passed through the doorway with almost exaggerated caution, taking strong care not to let my feet fall too hard on the rotting oak flooring. I quickly spotted the counter and let all worry go from my mind. I made it! I yanked open the top drawer and picked out two meager silver coins from the change box. Then guilt flooded over my conscience and my hand stopped. This is someone else’s earnings, their money, and I’m taking it.

The little voice of reason inside my head replied without hesitation. You need it Alec, and it’s not all that much anyway.

I can make my own.

When? You’re a Draki, and Draki don’t succeed in this world, they only survive. Your mother’s shop isn’t selling anything and you’re not going to last much longer. Take a few silver pieces, at least.

Reluctantly, I reached into the wooden box and took two silver pieces. This is going to have to continue until something changes for the better. I thought. I’d only just turned away from the cabinet and started towards the door when, from the stairs behind me, the slithering hiss of steel on steel reached out, carrying the menacing thought of the sword that made it.

I stopped in midstride. I could hear my heart thundering against my ribcage. I slowly turned around, and my gaze was met with not a middle aged shopkeeper brandishing a weapon frantically, but instead a calm, cool and collected girl who couldn’t have been older than fifteen, a year older than me. She had brown hair tied in a simple ponytail, revealing dazzling blue eyes and a steady, unwavering, and steely complexion. She had an innate sense of danger about her that radiated from every fiber of her being.

Her eyes narrowed and spoke with pure anger, not a drop of fear. “Who are you and what are you doing in my shop? I can kill you right now for charge of theft you swine!”

I was speechless for a few moments, awestruck at the sheer veracity and force of her words and body language. “ I- I needed money for my shop. We’re going out of business and I only took a few silver coins anyway.” I stammered. The girl seemed thrown for a moment. Rarely did you hear of any burglar taking such a meager amount of money. She recovered quickly however, ordering me to turn out my pockets. Sure enough, only two meager silver coins tumbled out. The girl stared, wordless. I took the opportunity and continued. “I need money. My mother’s shop is going out of business and we won’t last another week.”

Even without meaning to, I added a note of desperation to the last part. It was true. My mother and I would be forced to live on the street. Draki were for the most part rejected by society, and any jobs Mom tried out for, she was turned down.

The girl’s expression was less anxious and angry, and more concerned and curious. “Why? Why can’t you just find work as a deckhand or sailor at the docks? They need every hand they can get.”

I was shaking my head before she’d even finished the question. “You probably haven’t noticed then. I’m a Draki. I get nauseated on the ships and even if I didn’t, nobody in the port would hire me for any work, nor her.”

Her eyebrows knit together and her eyes, almost of their own accord fell on the back of the roomy jacket I was wearing and passed from there to my pointed ears, which she probably hadn’t noticed through my bird’s nest black hair. A look of understanding swept over her, to be replace with one of concern. She sat and one of the stools on the counter and gestured for me to take the opposite one. I sat gratefully, and all thoughts of the would be robbery passed from my mind, and I think hers too. She leaned forward, “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Alec Baine. My mother is Eliza Baine.” I said, without hesitation.

She nodded once and replied. “I’m Rinea Stelwisz. It would be awkward to shake hands, I think, since you came here to rob me.”

So much for that thought passing from her mind. Oh well.

She chuckled a bit and she gave a friendly punch on my shoulder. “Stop worrying so much Alec! The last thing I want to do at this point is get you in deep shit. They’d probably burn you at the stake for having the nerve to rob a human anyway. I can help you out.”

A sense of relief flooded over me. Both from the promise of secrecy and from the offer of assistance. “You can? How? It’s not like you can get me a job anywhere in the port. ‘Hey, here’s a Draki who’s looking for work!’” I said resentfully. “And for another thing, why are you even talking to me? Most humans treat me like a creature who won’t stop pestering them. Some don’t even think I have a soul, and I was trained to talk as some sort of experiment.”

She frowned. “Yes, some people are asses, aren’t they? Before he died, my father was a representative of Draki for the People’s Rights Association. He had several friends who were Draki, too.” She continued, eager to move from the subject of her father’s death, “I’ll think on how to help you overnight. Show up here tomorrow at noon. And wear that jacket. We can’t have anyone knowing you’re a Draki.”

On that parting note I left Rinea’s shop and hurried home (this time via the street). That night I fell asleep pondering Rinea and her proposal of help.

Untitled by Alex Bertolino, on Flickr


Untitled by Alex Bertolino, on Flickr


Untitled by Alex Bertolino, on Flickr


Untitled by Alex Bertolino, on Flickr