Free Dust and Water: A Song For The Stained Novella (A MAGICAL SAGA) by Cassandra Webb Page B

you?”
    “Course, just me. Do I look like I enjoy company?”
    “Fine, you can stay in a horse stall until sunrise,” he says.
    “And you’d better sleep with one eye open,” the nearest son says, before riding off.
    Even with his threat, I feel a mini explosion of success. Yes, it worked. Who’d have thought?
    I begin to gather up my hoard, and the girl is still watching me. She didn’t go inside after all.
    “Aren’t you going to help me?”
    “No way I’m touching those filthy things,” she says, chuckling at me as if the answer was obvious.
    For the first time I look at the shirt in my hands, it has a mendable tear through the front, and along with the usual travel grime, there’s a little red spot on it.
    The girl steps closer to me. “Yes, blood is gross,” she says. “Now hurry up and I’ll show you where to shove those things. If mother sees them, she’ll have them burnt. I’m Jenny by the way.”
    I stop frowning long enough to say, “Hunter.” Then grab the last of my things. “And no one’s touching my things.”
    She chuckled. “You haven’t met my mother.”

Filthy Boy.

    The lodgings are acceptable. A horse stall, which is actually bigger than the corner of the cellar I have back home, and the straw is fresh. I bury my hoard under the straw in the corner. Now, to con some food out of these mountain folk.
    The father and two rotten sons are busy grooming their horses, walking about the stables with tack, that sort of thing.
    I lean against the wall and eyeball the one who was giving me grief earlier.
    The older son walks his horse past me and I take three steps back out of the way. Those crazy animals can kick for no reason.
    The boy chuckles. “Afraid of the horses are you?”
    “So what if I am? They’re crazy.”
    He laughs and disappears into a stall. I look at the younger brother. “What do I have to trade to swing a tray of grub?” I ask.
    He tweaks his eyebrow and visibly tries not to laugh, then fails. “Are you even speaking my language?” he asks.
    “Of course not, I don’t speak pig,” I spit back.
    The older brother stalks out of his stall and towards me. He’s older than me, but even if we were born on the same day, he’d tower over me. I’m short, and short people have to stand their ground.
    “Pigs are more noble animals than scum like you,” he says.
    “Noble? Who’d want to be noble? I’d settle for smart, and I outsmart you any day,” I say.
    “Now boys. Dom, steady. He’s our guest,” the father says.
    “Yes, Dom, listen to your da.”
    Dom swings his fist, but I hardly even need to duck, his fist glides right over my head. I stomp down as hard as I can on his toes and watch him crumple. He grabs his foot and hops over to the wall.
    “You little –”
    “Dom, go tell your mother we have a guest for dinner,” the father interrupts. “Now.”
    Across the stables the other boy, same orange features but slightly younger, is trying his best not to laugh. Figures, he’s the younger brother, he’d have tried to beat Dom up plenty of times before.
    “You,” the father says pointing at me. “You can water the horses.”
    Then he turns and leaves, but the younger boy hesitates.
    “And wash up. I’m not kidding; if you enter the house looking like that Ma will swing a carving knife at you.” He leaves me alone.
    There are three lamps on and outside darkness has settled like a heavy blanket over the land. One of those big dogs trots in and sniffs around the door of my stall. I get it now; the blood is attracting him.
    “Get,” I say, waving my arms.
    He cocks his head to one side and backs up, an amused look on his face. With my eyes locked on him, I feel for the stall door and swing it shut. He’s big, like almost as big as I am, and there’s no one to call him off me if he decides to attack. Slowly, I reach one hand out, thinking just maybe I’ll give him a scratch behind the ear.
    He lifts one lip, showing long canine teeth and rumbles