The Masquerader (2)

Chapter Two

Trust My Rage

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"Fead! Fead Sorr!" Astrid's rasped voice rose with joy as it twisted through the howling winds that wailed across the rolling hills just to the south of Ascent's tallest walls. Over her chest, the young child wore a thin, lightweighted cloth of a deeply black shade. The shirt bore thin sleeves at the top of her shoulders about the width of one of her tiny fingers, and was pinched at the center of the chest by a single golden bead the size of one's thumbprint.

The bottom of the shirt was tucked loosely into the top of her pants, which, being black in shade as well, snugly clung to her legs until they met their end; clasped tightly over the heels of her bare feet. As the excited child ran, an aged chain fidgetted around her neck, rather displeased that its pendant was lost beneath the fabric of Astrid's shirt.

Astrid's lank form bounded over the rise of a particularly steep hill. Or, at least, it started to, before stopping half way up to pant, gasp for air, and scold the wind bitterly for its particularly cold bite this morning.

"Fead, you're-" Astrid started breathlessly before giving up and letting out a thin breath, bending forward slightly as she clutched her aching lungs with chilled fingers, "You're-" She attempted once more, only to be interrupted soundly with a bone rattling cough. Shaking her head, Astrid shot herself a dry, sarcastic grin before she rose, wiping the blackened blood's drops from her spread lips with a hand before tilting her face to the warm sun as she breathed deep lungfuls of the crisp morning air.

The gusts of the immense height of Ascent, the newest city in the sky, roared past Astrid with a playful vengence, teasing her waist long black hair from its intricate braidings as it dashed past in a mad game. Twirling upon its heel, the gale sprinted through Astrid with a smug sort of smile playing upon its whispering breath.

"You're going to adore what the stars have told me, Fead!" Astrid promised cockily, her voice slicing through the howling air with a restored power. "The insistant little buggers have finally told me something important!"

Offended, the gleaming stars of glittering gold dashed from their perch within Astrid's twisted hair, throwing themselves before her blue eyes in aggravation. "Hush! Not yet!" Astrid scolded with a hiss, waving the blasted things away in annoyance. Heaving a meladramatic string quartet of violins in depression, the stars darted back to the safety of Astrid's braid, stringing themselves in her dark hair sulkily.

"Hey.. Fead?" Astrid's brow furrowed as she stepped cautiously up the hillside, "Where are you?" Astrid's crooked grin twitched downwards in concern. Fead always met her around here.

And he was never late.

The sound of children's laughter filled the air chillingly, freezing Astrid where she stood and gripping her heart firmly with a painful, crippling fear as haunting memories flooded through her mind unwillingly.

Gasping, and choking, Astrid clutched at the fraying rope at her neck as her toes skirted upon the damp soil. "I'm not- I'm not evil!" Astrid begged desperately, pleadingly catching the gaze of the line of children eagerly waiting for their turn to pull at the end of the dangling rope.

"Liar!" They sang.

"Evil thing!" They taunted.

"Traitor!" They laughed.

"Evil thing!" They chanted.

"Beast!" They grinned.

Evil thing!"

Astrid bolted.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Let's play a game, Satyr!" The crowd of children challenged, sneering at the wide eyed boy standing at the ring of their confining circle. "You will play with us, won't you?" The little blonde girls giggled sweetly as the larger boys intimidatingly stepped forward, stretching their growing frames absently as they grinned happily with a menacing gaze that clearly read that it was not a request.

"Let's play The Gallows Game!" One of the blonde girls declared, beaming happily at the idea, "We've already seen one Satyr burn. Let's see his son hang!"

Fead swallowed as an uproar of agreement filled the group. He could recall when he'd been one of them, tormenting Astrid for being odd. But he'd never been so cruel, even when the roar of the crowd ensured his mind he was in the right. After all, Fead himself had been the one to cut the branch of the Willow tree that the children of Ascent had so pleasantly strung Astrid up upon. Though he'd never tell her.

They had claimed her evil, and it made things simple. If she was an evil, spiteful thing, then no one else was. And with so many people, adults especially, declaring hatred for the dark haired girl, the claim veiled a simple truth. Hurt the girl, or we hurt you.

Anyone associated with Astrid was evil.

And that's the way that Fead thought it simply had to be. That is, until his father's charm wore off. In one day, Fead discovered he was half goat from the waist down, had hooves of all things, grey horns, and as if it were not bad enough. Blue eyes.

In the same day, he discovered what it meant to lie. And its punishments.

"You're going to hang me?" Fead blinked, as if shocked by the idea, his voice trembling shakily, "I was one of you!"

"Yeah," The largest boy supposed, shrugging his arms dismissively, as he stepped forward in to the closed ring, glee written across his older face, "Before your coward father got caught for lying and burned alive for it."

His name was Ivor, and Fead had never gotten along particularly well with the blood thirsty brute. Even when they had been on the same side.

"I always thought he smelled rancid.." One of the girls whispered to the other with a spiteful grin directed Fead's way as the ring began guffawing at the snide remark. Loud declarations of agreement rang through the crowd before Ivor raised a hand, frowning in mock alarm, "Don't you see? He's got you all prattling on about nothing! He's stalling! Little [b]trickster![\b]" Ivor spat maliciously.

"Oi!" Astrid bellowed, her blackened and lean form lurking behind Ivor, her chest rising and falling quickly from her run, anger gleaming through her gaze in hatred, "Who're you calling a Trickster? Argr?" She spat the vile insult with a perfect accent. Ivor's face turned red as he spun upon his heel, charging at the far smaller girl with rage.

"Come at me, bro." Astrid taunted from a lost age, widening her stance slightly.

Ivor swung his fist wide, only having time to blink shockedly the moment Astrid ducked, before she threw a sideways punch his way.

By the time that the painful sound of the hit connecting left the air, Ivor was sprawled into the dirt, spitting out teeth, saliva and blood on his hands and knees, whimpering in panic and pain before he threw a terrified look Astrid's way, the blood clotting in his swelling cheek pooled within his injured eye.

Astrid blinked, looking to her own fist in utter bafflement.

Her knuckles weren't even red.

The children bolted.