A cold winter wind woke Rose up. She pulled the burlap blanket closer to her and little Sparrow and forced a shiver away. She was the big sister, the one who knew everything and somehow managed to provide food. Rose turned slowly and looked at her little sister. Her dirty brown hair fell over her small, vulnerable face and her fingers peeked out of her finger-less gloves. She was so young and innocent, the type of person that was going extinct in the grimy city of Bowerstone.
Rose, careful to not wake her sister, got out of the cot (if that's what you would call it) and stretched her tired limbs. She tucked the blanket around her sister then walked down the stairs of their home. It had a roof, and the "walls" provided some shelter from the elements. It was the only thing that they could find, after the family of traders that they normally stayed with every winter didn't show up this year. She knew she shouldn't count on them being here every winter, but it had felt nice not having to plan out how to get their food for the day, or trying not to freeze to death.
Rose picked up two rocks that she set down by the sagging wooden stairs. She then started to pick up burnable paper and trash that littered the alley way. Taking the arm load of trash, she dumped it into the dark, metal brazier. Rose reached into her dress pocket and pulled out the two rocks. She held them above the trash, hitting them together to create a spark which would in turn create fire and warmth. The sparks made a flame, but it was small and Rose had to protect it from the harsh wind.
Once the flame was big enough not to be blown out by the pesky flurry of wind and snow, Rose hurried back to their home to wake Sparrow. She had planned out a whole day for them to explore Bowerstone Market. Sparrow hadn't been to the market part of Bowerstone, and Rose knew she would be eager to visit it, seeing the stall vendors shout out prices, and dipping their feet into the water that ran under the bridge. It would be the perfect day, maybe if they begged just right, or pick pocketed the ignorant, they could buy something from the food stalls.
"Sparrow, wake up you sleepy head. Come on, we have a big day ahead of us." Rose shook her sister gently and Sparrow opened her eyes.
She sat up in her warm, comfortable bed, not the few pieces of cloth that she used to call a resting place. Rose's voice echoed in Sparrows head, her sweet voice that sounded like laughter. Sparrow always had these sort of dreams. Watching Rose go about her life before it ended shortly, sometimes seeing herself, but never in control. Sparrow dreamed in past memories or, like just now, memories she had never witnessed.
Swinging her legs off the bed, she ran a hand through her shoulder length, white hair. Sparrow shrugged off the dream as best she could. She left that life behind when Lucien killed her sister, left it behind so she could move forward without the weight of sadness. Birds chirped happily outside in the golden rays of the rising sun, signaling that morning was chasing the night away. Sparrow smiled and opened the window, allowing the gleeful songs to brighten her mood and the fresh sea breeze to awaken her. She rested her elbows the window seal, holding her head in her hands.
Humming one of the birds melodies, Sparrow descended down the stairs of her Oakfield home. She had bought the two story house after defeating Lord Lucien in the Spire, the same Spire that she could see from the docks next to her house. Sparrow swallowed a lump in her throat when she remembered the choice she had made, the choice that whitened her hair and prettied her features. The choice that left her faithful companion and her sister dead.
She forced the memory out of her mind and fought away her tears. That had been a year ago, and a lot can happen in a year. Like being stronger than she would like to let on, telling everyone that asked her where her dog was, and that it was okay that her sister had died, leading them to believe she was strong minded.
Sparrow opened the door of her house, letting the sun soak into her pale skin. Oakfield had an almost fairy-tale look and feel to it. The vibrant greens of the trees reached up for the deep blue sky and the vivid blue flowers she planted near her house screamed for attention. Children's laughter, the rumbling of the mill, and the soft crashing of the oceans waves against the shore provided a calming background noise, while the talking and clanking of the glasses from the local bar seemed to promise a good time for anyone who entered. Sparrow smiled at all who passed and, all the locals being the kind hearted and kindred spirits that they were, waved back.
She entered the pub and ordered a glass of well spring water from the bartender. He had long ago stopped asking if she wanted alcohol after finding out she had never drunk a drop of the stuff in her life. Sparrow was content in leaving the stuff be, and no one seemed to care that she wasn't among the drunks that stumbled out of the bar, throwing up in the most random places. The bartender passed her the glass full of water and shot her a grim smile.
"Have you heard the news yet Sparrow?" the bartender asked cautiously.
Sparrow looked at him in slight confusion. In Oakfield news traveled a bit slowly. No one in Oakfield gossiped, not like in Bowerstone, or in Bloodstone, a place Sparrow never liked. Bloodstone, place of violence, prostitutes, and as the name suggested, blood. It was a lawless town, where one could kill any one person and not have to worry about guards dragging you to the dungeons. It wasn't the fact that guards didn't patrol the streets, it was the fact that living a life there would be a life full of fear. If a drunk got out of control, and started killing people, he would either be shot be a bystander, or allowed to live and the citizens would make it a game to not be shot by him. It was a place that many, including Sparrow, avoided.
"What news?" she asked.
She knew that if it was bad news, like hobbes attacking a farm, she would run to the rescue of the victims. That was how she was, saving anyone in trouble, the true hero.
"Apparently, a man named Reaver has arrived in Bloodstone. I don't know the man but I heard he come back for some plan he has. That's all I know, not many people from Bloodstone leave Bloodstone." the bartender went back to wiping down the bar, secretly, although not so secretly that Sparrow didn't notice, watching for her reaction.
Sparrow smiled at the memory of Reaver. The deviant was well know for being the Hero of Skill, and for being ruthless, but that wasn't all he was know for. He threw parties all the time, or used to before he left for Samarkand a year ago. Sparrow didn't know what he did there, but she knew it was something... well Reaverish. When they had both met, he was annoyed at her innocence, her constant optimism, and the fact that she was nice and selfless. He was the complete opposite of her, and no matter how much of the flirting, or the naughty jokes he threw at her, Sparrow remained oblivious, not knowing his true intentions.
Reaver stepped off his ship with the air of one who is anything but happy to be home. Sure, he liked the town of Bloodstone, the town that he ruled over. He knew that no one was living in his mansion, making him disappointed that he wouldn't be able to throw open the doors of his former home and shoot the person inhabiting it. The truth was, he came back because he hadn't enjoyed Samarkand as much as he thought he would. The people weren't the "untamed natives" he had painted them out to be in his mind, and it was all to tropical for his liking. Garth had left him alone, not that he complained about the dark skinned man leaving, the minute the ship had docked. Reaver found himself at his old mansion, and he smirked when he remembered the last time he was here.
The young, ignorant hero, what was her name? Sparrow? She had been asking for his help, and he had said something about how he could help her in bed. She looked confused and said,"But I sleep just fine." Oh how he laughed at that. Poor, innocent girl. How she got around in this world was a miracle. Maybe after he had some lady company, he would go visit her. Visit as in try to kill.
Sparrow walked out of the bar with a smile on her face. The men inside had always been friendly, complimenting her all the time. One even asked to see the inside of her bedroom, saying he thought it would look nice. He was very nice, but she politely declined, since she was just on her way to go on a quest. She had promised that he could see it when she got back, but she had no clue why he would want to see her bedroom. It probably looked just like his.
The door to her house was slightly ajar, and Sparrow frowned, trying to remember if she had closed the door or not. She opened the door the rest of the way and closed it behind her. Her eyes scanned the room, but she didn't see anyone standing around. Sparrow shrugged and started humming to herself as she tidied up the place. Her house wasn't messing, yet it gave her something to do before she left for Bowerstone to make use of the sales there. Her humming turned to soft singing, and she packed most of her gold into her bag. The steel ax strapped to her back and clockwork pistol at her hip she headed up stairs to get a few of the books she was wanting to read on the journey to Bowerstone.
Sparrows eyes were on the floor as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom, but she looked up when she heard a soft chuckle. She looked up, almost to the top of the stairs, and saw Reaver sitting with his legs crossed and his Dragonstomper .48 out and aimed at her.
"Hello my little minx. It's been a long time."
Please review! I'm going to start typing the next chapter but if reviews suggest otherwise, I
'll just rewrite this one please don't tell me I suck at writing or any of that crap I just want reviews to help me out on what needs to be better or good reviews.