“Ah! My bag! Get back here you scum!”

  “Tch! Stop!”

  “Screw off!”

  “Ouch! Out of the way!”

  The usual screaming and yelling of the ever crowded marketplace. The muddy ground riddled with puddles elevated the dirtiness. Rampaging through the buildings were thieves, unchained slaves and aggressors. A filthy sight even for a slum. Nobles and dukes avoided this area with a passionate hatred and disgust. A pathetic hell.

  However, such was a normal day for a girl, whose dignity and innocence remained.

  A Gardener.

  A girl with a long braid, plain and old clothes and yet, striking eyes of sharpness.

  With a basket of milk, plants, and carrots, she walked alongside the street of dust and noise. Looking into the depth of the obscured alleys, another round of bodies lay within. She wasn’t surprised. Deaths were strangely common here.

  Richieton.

  Or at least how it used to be.

  She hopped through the pool of water, her steps carefully and elegantly. She was an ordinary girl of an ordinary family, though, the only person to live with her was her grandma. Her daily life was simple. She would work at a botanical garden in the morning, then return and stay with her grandma for the rest of the day, cleaning the house and cooking for them.

  In the midst of despair, she was the only hope of the slum. She was young, helpful, and kind to everyone. She would share food to the weak, and work harder just to earn an extra cent for the community. Many times, she was invited to the more fancy side of the city, only to be met with disappointed faces of the rich.

  Everyone respected her. No one in the slum dared to touch her, as she was the only light they could ever rely on. In a family, per say, she would be the big sister, ironic enough for a maiden in her eighteen.

  “I should buy an apple for Miss Barber.”

  She tiptoed on the dry surface, bouncing like a small bunny. Her pristine presence brought a warm smile to the people around her.

  “Hey, kiddo. Don’t steal from mister Accountant!”

  Her words came out strict yet lovely as there was no badwill beneath. The kid, shuddering at her shout, instantly dashed away into the small corner of the road. The people laughed at the bickery. Nevertheless, she paid no mind and moved on.

  Her eyes were never laid on the scene around her. The dirt, mud and smoke. Instead, it was the sky.

  The clear and pristine sky. The space where freedom was bound to nothing. The home of the symbol of freedom.

  She watched as the sky slowly turned. Everyday, everytime, she couldn’t get bored watching the movement of the heaven. It was so different from the world she lived in.

  “How beautiful… Gotta work harder today!”

  It had become her inspiration. Her source of commitment. Her happiness. Her everything. A neverland, it was.

  A dog clung to her foot as she went. She shook her head in a mild exhaustion, patting its head.

  “Come on, mister Cookie. The boy you’re chasing is over there.” Waving off the dog running away, she giggled as she departed.

  Then, she came to a stop at a fruit vendor. Without ever asking, the merchant threw her an apple with a bright smile. A fixed routine that had occurred many times before.

  “Today's apple day, right?”

  “Ah! Thank you so much, sir!”

  “Heh, keep it. You did so much for us now. You’re our pillar. Be careful around here.”

  “Yes. I will keep myself safe. Thank you, again.”

  “You never knew what the Lord would do today. I heard he got even more aggressive recently… also, come closer.”

  She leaned in, catching the whisper.

  “I heard he hired an expensive killer, like, mercenary too. Be careful, alright?”

  The Gardener giggled at such, as she lightly punched the cautious man.

  “Ah, don’t worry! I did nothing wrong for the big old man to send an assassin after me. Silly, right?”

  “Yea- yeah… I guess so. Just, you know… be careful, right? Can’t say for sure what that greedy fox can think of. The Central boys, ugh, so annoying. Those bastards never paid an ounce of bread to us poor souls.” The man swung his arm, as if he wanted to punch an imaginary figure.

  “Yes. I will be more careful. You too, mister. Goodbye”

  With a goodbye, the Gardener waved her hand and galloped away. That day was a good day. With lovely flowers and colleagues she worked hard in the garden. The weather was clear and sunny, with extra food to bring back home. Her grandma had also become more talkative recently.

  She believed it was a day graced by God's blessing. Such, seemingly, was true.

  Her feet were agile. She navigated through the busy street, as the path paved itself for her. Yet, as she knew not, a turn of fate would be waiting for the girl.

  A miracle, perhaps.

  Bump.

  A gentle one.

  For the first time ever, she had run into somebody. In the familiar road of her normal life that seemingly shouldn’t change at all. Her ever looping life had been broken by a new presence.

  As she lost her balance and started falling backwards, a swift hand anchored to her wrist.

  A hand that was smaller than hers.

  Being pulled up, she regained her stance with the helping hand. To her surprise, there was a new face she had never seen before. A voice rang out to her floating mind.

  “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

  Standing on the other side, the source of her concern, was the Kid.

  In his presence, she gasped. With just a glance, she knew he was an outsider, and strangely enough, just a young boy who was barely shorter than her.

  A ragged dark cloak, an enigmatic aura.

  She tilted her head little by little, from the shock and her own curiosity, until her eyes placed on the white stain of his chest. She gasped again, and looked down at her basket.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “Oh no!”

  The milk had been spilled all over the basket, from the collision. She hastily rummaged through the content, checking for any damage.

  “Huh? Where is the-”

  The bottle. She then quickly inspected the ground around her, her clothes, and the basket again.

  “Umm…”

  Creeping into her view, was the bottle of milk in the Kid’s hand.

  “Sorry for this. I only managed to catch half of it.”

  Half? Snatching the bottle in a rush, her finger traced the intact outline of the half-filled glass container. She asked herself loud enough to be heard.

  “How did…”

  “Ah. Sorry. I only-”

  “No. I mean, didn’t you use your hand to catch me?”

  “Yes, I did. I used the other hand.”

  “Other… hand-”

  Snapping her out of a glance-turned glare, the distinct white stain of milk.

  “Oh crap! I’m sorry! I gotta-”

  “It’s okay. I can just-”

  “No! You! Follow me! We will fix this shirt now!”

  A frantic voice led the conversation. Cutting in turn, she pulled him away from the ever argument of duty. Her grip, firm and tight, holding to a boy she had never met.

  Unbeknownst to the young maiden, the first step into the first change of the moving sky, she had.

  --

  The basket of food lay on the table of timber.

  Splashing water by a well.

  Rubbed against the quickening motion, the jacket’s filth was cleansed of by the masterful technique of the Gardener. The Kid, sitting tautly by the table of a modest room, leaned his head over the back of the girl. As still as he might be, curiosity drove him.

  “Are you done… miss…” He called through the window.

  Hanging the piece on a thin line across the window, the girl meagerly returned his gaze.

  “Oh, erm. We haven’t introduced ourselves yet. It was my fault. I’m just a Gardener who lives here with my grandma. It’s nice to meet you.” She nodded, hanging the wet piece on a wire above.

  “I wasn’t paying attention either. If anything, please let me apologize-”

  “Whoa, whoa! Don’t be so tough on yourself. You’re younger than me, right? How old are you?”

  “I’m… well….” The boy diverted his eyes away, unwilling to answer. An irony, that was, for him to know not himself.

  “Where did you come from? Did you come from the neighboring cities? Or well, the uptown? You know, I would be in deep trouble if I mess up someone’s clothes from uptown, the nobles, so delight me.”

  “I come from Aiver.”

  “Aiver?” She repeated with novelty.

  “Yes, Aiver.”

  “You can’t possibly mean the corner of Louisine. It’s like, a few cities apart. Did you come with your family? Then why here, all of the places? You know the news about the big old Lord Philleo , or Richieton, is spreading like wildfire, right?” She inquired with utmost interest, wiping the water off her hands.

  Faced with a visible confusion, he changed not his tone with a steady reply.

  “I came here from Aiver, yes. And I traveled by myself.”

  “You must be… joking?”

  Her sentence ended on a hesitant note, seeing the unchanged face of the Kid. The uncanny texture misplaced on a normal boy, such deviation from common sense petrified her.

  However, only for a moment did that feeling last, replaced by another sensation.

  A childish curiosity. Such drove her to rush to his side, grabbing his shoulder with a newfound strength.

  “If you really came from Aiver, then, what was it like?! The other cities out there!”

  Her sudden enthusiasm lightened the space, the previous doubt chased away.

  “How was it?! Tell me! Is it like, all amazing out there?!”

  Her grip on his shoulder rocked his frame left and right, the excitement escaped from her breath. Like a comedic notion, as their role of the conversation swapped. The ever motionless boy was frightened by the girl’s shift of voice.

  “I mean… out there… there was… a lot of…” His sentence fragmented in pieces under her intensity.

  “Ah! My bad! I’m so sorry!”

  Backing off, she calmed her beating heart with a hand on her chest. It took her a whole minute to remake her manner as she hastily tended to her hair and gave an awkward smile. Her face reddened slightly out of embarrassment, for such indignity to be seen.

  “I just… you know. I want to know how it feels to be out there. So, if you’re uncomfortable, you can just… wait here, okay? Until your clothes dry.”

  “Thank you for letting me stay.” The boy bowed, only to be stopped by the reassuring hands of the Gardener.

  “Don’t mind it, okay? You’re our guest.”

  “Is there anything I can do in exchange?”

  “What? Don’t be silly! You’re here because of my fault from the beginning. Just hang around until you find what you need, okay?”

  “I just-”

  Before his plea could be heard, the playful girl vanished through the front door. He hesitated whether to call for her, as this was his first time ever to talk to someone as his peer. Still, he decided to withhold his desire to repay.

  Left alone, he glimpsed around the household. Taking into the sight of moldy walls, the creaking floor infested with holes, and strangely, his attention was caught by a window of plants.

  A flower box.

  He stepped closer, his eyes wandered through the small garden protected by the wooden fences and strings out of old fabric. Such was the only place to be shed with sunlight.

  With a faint touch, he felt the warmth reflecting from the vines, the leaves of the unknown flowers. He had never learned of plants, aside from ones beside the dusty trail. Despite their origin, he always found these lives beautiful. Each one of them was born, grew, and bloomed to their own definition of perfection.

  “Who is it?”

  Cutting through his focus, a quiet high-pitched voice from the depth of the cozy home. An old woman in her sixties, her back bent, slowly peeked out, leaning on a cane no younger than herself.

  The grandma of the youthful Gardener.

  Before her appearance, the Kid quickly returned his hand to the waist, giving a polite bow.

  “Sorry for the intrusion, ma’am. I’m-”

  “No need to tell me. My sweetheart brought you in. I heard the conversation.” Her words were sharp, disposing of the nervousness dictating the flow.

  “I can hear it. Don’t just name me a slow and sluggish old woman, will you?”

  “Sorry, ma’am. I don’t intend to do such a thing.”

  “You’re a good boy, really, huh? Though the gun hidden behind you is a bit ominous. I hope you aren’t just a pretty thief who’s really good at deceiving people.” She spoke, pointing her cane towards the firearm with a joking yet accusing tone.

  “I promise, I’m not a thief.”

  “Well, can’t trust anyone in this hell hole-”

  Before her eyes could manage, the weapon was displayed in his hand. Gripping the barrel, his showcase of goodwill pierced through the suspicion. The woman laughed at the offer, waving off the gesture.

  “Haha. Can’t believe what I just saw, or couldn’t. What a fast lil mouse. Or has my age defeated this body?”

  “Was that… not normal?” Timid, the Kid asked, tipping his head.

  “Well, if I haven’t been defeated yet, then yes, it was too fast for a kid like you.”

  The Kid, hearing those words, took a mental note to himself. The warning of the people around him, the Sheriff, the Courier, had always put him in a notion that everyone was powerful in their own way. Only then, did he make sense of the Gardener’s confusion.

  The Kid muttered to himself, with a hint of guilt for not understanding such truth earlier. He should have seen that.

  “So people don’t usually…”

  “Kid, are you still there?”

  “Ah, yes.” He answered, snapping from his wandering thoughts.

  “Your eyes… familiar. Have I seen you before?”

  Her body inclined forwards, the keen eyes fixed on the confused boy.

  “I don’t think so, ma’am.”

  “Yeah, figured so.”

  “Did you meet someone similar to me?”

  A deep silence hung in the air, the old woman seemed to recall something far within her memory, yet, she shrugged it off with a dismissive sign.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I see.”

  A clue, might it be to his unknown past. But he chose to back off, bound by the mannership he had learned. The old woman then continued.

  “Anyways, go and talk to my granddaughter. It’s been forever since she met a proper adventurer like you. She’s been stuck here, helping here and there.”

  The Kid stayed quiet, a hint of uncertainty revealed on his face.

  “Should I be worthy of such?”

  “What do you mean?”

  To her question, he didn’t answer immediately.

  He looked down at his hand. The moment of a dying woman flashed through his vision, the warm feeling, and nothingness followed.

  “I’m just a stranger. I don’t have anything worthy enough yet.”

  Void of any memory, filled with a tragedy, he deemed himself a blank page. If what the Gardener sought from him was an epic story of adventures, his fear of disappointing her would only emerge.

  He was just like her. He knew nothing of the world. A baby who had just woken up a few weeks before.

  Noticing the expression etched on the Kid’s face, the wise old woman grabbed his cheeks forcefully. Such an act shocked him, who was distracted by his own nightmare.

  “You came from Aiver, huh? Yet, you made it here. That means something. You’re still a kid, of course you won’t have anything yet. But the fact you are here means you are doing something greater than anyone. Your conviction is admirable. Show off, ey?”

  Then, abruptly, she let go of his face.

  “Be truthful to yourself first, eh?”

  The Kid could only look at her with an unreadable face, yet inside him, his mind and heart had made another discovery. A train of thought circled in his head, lifting the corner of his mouth subconsciously. The old woman grinned at his subtle shift, knocking on his shoulder.

  “Come on. Start your adventure here and there. Do something fun with my little girl, I trust you, okay? But before that…”

  She turned around, pulling a spare waistcoat from atop the chair with the cracking sound of bones. A temporary replacement for the jacket hung on the wire. Landing the coat on her arm, a tentative voice echoed behind her.

  “Thank you.”

  “Hah, you don’t need to-” She spoke as she turned around, only to be met with an empty room.

  The door slowly closed, as if it had just been opened. The piece of clothing on her arm, surprisingly, had already been gone without her ever realizing. She heard not a sound, nor a motion she sensed. Just like that, the young boy had disappeared.

  “Tch. Am I that old already? The current generation sure got some heat in them… ugh…”

  Grumbling, she let out an exhausted sigh. Then, she glanced over the garden stationed on the window, the Gardener’s personal child. Amazed, at a lovely image she was, a smile pleated her face.

  “What a quick mouse. I know you are fast, but this fast?” A burst of laughter followed.

  In the world of green, lay a small note.

  “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

  --