Night rain (Part one)

Rain pattered outside. Vivian carefully set a low stool in front of the stove, then bent down and took two handfuls of brown rice from the sack beside it. There was little grain left. Only last month, her brother had stolen a silver ornament at the docks and traded it for this sack of rice. Even though she had scrimped and rationed again and again over the past two weeks, the dwindling grain still filled her with unease.

There was no food left.

In a few more days at most, they would have to go hungry!

With reddened eyes, Vivian glanced at the little bed in their dilapidated home. A young man lay unconscious beneath bedding that smelled of mildew. Her brother still had not woken up. Even the kind priestess who had once been willing to help them seemed to have given up hope. After all, Bishop Fayle was unwilling to expend his strength saving a thief.

Vivian resolutely wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes and carefully climbed down from the stool.

She was only eight that year, and malnutrition had left her small and frail. Even lighting a fire and cooking were difficult for her. Holding several pieces of split firewood in her arms, she broke some branches she had gathered during the day and tossed them into the stove. Rain had been falling outside for half the day, leaving the wood damp. It caught slowly, giving off clouds of choking smoke. Ignoring her stinging eyes, Vivian pursed her little lips and blew with all her might. Only after the wood caught did she gently rub her eyes. "Big brother!..."

"You have to wake up!... Vivian misses you so much!..."

"Don't leave me!..."

Crystal-clear tears rolled down her cheeks. Vivian sat beside the stove, quietly sobbing. After a while, she wiped her face with her small hands, leaving two pale streaks across her soot-blackened cheeks. They had originally had some salt at home, but it had run out last week. She had tried to steal some as her brother did, only to nearly get caught by the fat shopkeeper. His wife had struck her across the back with a broom. Even now, her back was bruised purple, and the slightest touch sent burning pain through it.

"Woof, woof!"

An old black-and-tan dog walked over. Though age had taken its toll, traces remained of the fine hound it had once been. Vivian held out her little hand, and the old dog silently came to her side. It glanced up at the stove and let out a low whine.

"Heath."

Vivian hugged the old dog. As though she had noticed the longing in its eyes, she sniffled softly and gently stroked its back, murmuring, "There isn't much food left."

"We have to save it for big brother. Vivian is hungry too. Go outside and find something to eat once the rain stops." "I'm sorry!"

"Is Vivian useless?"

"I can't steal anything, I can't save big brother, and I'm always crying..."

The old dog seemed to understand her words. It silently lowered its cloudy eyes, licked her palm, then lay down at her feet and closed its eyes to doze.

Footsteps sounded outside. Someone seemed to pause at the door, and faint voices drifted in.

The old black-and-tan dog suddenly opened its eyes. In an instant, it looked as fierce as a starving wolf. A vicious growl rose from its throat, followed by a loud bark at whoever was outside.

"Damn it!"

"One of these days, I'll kill that old dog and stew it!"

An angry man's voice sounded outside, then the footsteps gradually receded.

The terror on Vivian's face eased a little. She reached out her small hand to stroke the old dog's head and whispered, "Heath."

"If he dares come in, bite him!"

"Big brother is unconscious. You're the only one who can protect me now."...

The old dog gently nuzzled her in her arms. Though it looked decrepit, a trace of ferocity remained.

It was a Goralas Hound!

In its prime, it could even fight and kill a leopard. According to folklore along the Agate River, its breed descended from a crossbred Hell Hound.

Sadly, it was very old now.

The scent of rice porridge rose from the stove. The old dog twitched its nose, then lay back down.

Vivian's stomach growled, but she still carefully climbed onto the stool and ladled porridge into a battered earthenware bowl with a chipped rim. She blew gently on it, then used a wooden spoon to feed the young man on the bed a little at a time. She was too small and too weak to help her brother sit up. All she could do was feed him slowly like this.

"Big brother!"

"Eat up! You'll get better once you've eaten!..."

"Everything will get better."

As the little girl spoke, tears fell again. She wiped them away, set down the bowl, and climbed off the bed to close the door.

This was the Slums of Amber City.

It was a place teeming with thieves, robbers, and human traffickers. An unprotected little girl could hardly survive here. If she had not been careful enough, and if Heath had not been there to guard her, some villain might have abducted her in broad daylight. All it would take was a damp towel soaked in a drug pressed over her mouth and nose. She would soon lose consciousness, then be stuffed into a sack and sold to the traffickers. Many little girls in the Slums had disappeared that way. Sometimes, even attractive women were abducted.

"Heath!"

Vivian fed him a little at a time. Once the man on the bed had swallowed more than half the bowl, she hurriedly took a few sips herself, washed her little hands and cheeks with clean water, and curled her tiny body beneath the musty bedding. The movement pressed against the injury on her back, making her whimper in pain. Only then did she wrap both hands around the young man's arm and say to the old dog at the door, "If anyone comes, bark!"

"I know what they're thinking."

"They think that because big brother is unconscious, they can sell me to that woman Sosia!"

"Then they can get some money."

Having grown up in the Slums, she knew far more than other children her age. Sosia was the Slums' biggest human trafficker. She picked out pretty little girls, trained them as prostitutes, and sent them to the big brothels in Amber City.

An eight-year-old girl could not possibly survive in the Slums.

A trace of resolve appeared in Vivian's eyes. She leaned over and gently kissed the forehead of the young man, who lay on the bed like someone in a vegetative state. In a subdued voice, she said, "Even if I have to be sold, I'll sell myself!"

"Then I'll use the money to hire a real priest. Maybe they can wake big brother up."

She knew what fate awaited her!

That woman Sosia would raise her for a few years first, then teach her how to serve men. If she grew pretty enough, she would be given to one of the nobles in the city. Otherwise, she would end up in one of those sordid brothels.

But for her brother's sake.

She was willing to do anything. He was the only family she had left.

Sounds of fighting and killing came from outside.

Vivian shrank beneath the covers. A fierce glint also appeared in the old dog's eyes as it stood by the door.

Kelen and Savi of the Slums were fighting over territory. Ever since her brother had botched a theft and been gravely wounded by a terrifying wizard, many thieves in the Slums had died. All the former leaders had met violent deaths in the streets, and the survivors had fought many times over their territory. No guards ever came to intervene. This was a forgotten corner of Amber City.

They were fighting over the streets where they operated, and over the children in the Slums.

Every gang needed to train children to steal. Her brother had become a thief that way too, in order to feed her.

Vivian's memories of her parents were hazy!

She only knew that her mother had once had a husband, supposedly an outstanding Master Thief. Unfortunately, he had accepted a job and ultimately died in a wizard's tower.

From that moment on.

Wizards had become the most terrifying beings in her young heart!

That man had been her brother's birth father. Though she had not yet been born then, her brother had told her about him.

Later.

Her mother had endured a period of wandering and hardship with her young brother. Forced by poverty, she had even worked as a tavern waitress, which really meant being a part-time prostitute. Vivian knew all this. She understood far more than other children her age. That life had continued until her mother met a mysterious adventurer.

Soon, she was pregnant again.

The adventurer had not married her. He had merely kept her as a mistress. That man was Vivian's birth father.

He was supposedly a powerful professional as well.

Heath had been his pet. Later, he had mysteriously disappeared.

Only the old dog had stayed with them all this time.

After losing two men in succession, her mother had begun to lose her mind. For a time, she had even suffered from a sickness of the soul. In the end, she had died of illness.

Vivian had been only three then.

Her brother had been twelve.

The two young children had lost their parents and soon ended up on the streets. Back then, her brother had often fought others over scraps of food.

Later, her brother had joined a gang and become a competent thief.

Only then.

Had their lives gradually settled down, and had they found a place to shelter in the chaotic Slums.

A piercing scream rang out.

Vivian trembled in fright and buried herself in the young man's arms. The old dog by the door suddenly stood up as well, staring fiercely toward the distant alley.

Someone had died there!

Deaths were commonplace in the Slums. Even the priests of the Temple of Morninglord did not concern themselves with whether its people lived or died.

The neighbors slammed their doors shut.

Some even took up door bars and locked their doors tight. Vivian got up too, struggling to lift a bar into place.

From her years of living in the Slums, she knew that once someone died, trouble would soon escalate. The fighting would certainly grow fiercer, and it might spill over onto the people nearby.

Fear.

The fear in her heart made the little girl cling tightly to the old dog and bring it to the foot of the bed.

"Heath."

She looked outside in terror. Through the rain, she could see figures fighting with weapons in their hands.

Blood covered the entire alley before the rain washed it away.

A faint bloody smell drifted through the air!

Vivian bent down and stroked the old dog's head. Her small body trembled with fear as she murmured, "You'll protect me, won't you?"

"Woof!"

The old dog suddenly barked.

The little girl jumped, but then she realized Heath had not barked at anything outside. It had barked at the young man on the bed.

"Big brother!?"

Vivian turned around in delighted surprise. The young man on the bed had opened his eyes, and his lips moved slightly.

All the pressure and fear she had endured burst out at once!

The little figure threw herself into his arms, great crystal-clear tears rolling down her childish cheeks.