(Backdated entry)
Tremaen backed up against the side of the house. All he had to do was get some bread from the baker's. Easy enough, except for the group of boys that decided to take issue with his presence in town. It was the worst of luck running into them.
He wasn't really sure when he'd dropped the bundle, he'd been running so fast at the time. Of course, he didn't really care at the moment. His shirt was torn in half a dozen places and his left eye was swollen shut, and it was clear the boys weren't finished with him yet. He was certain they were going to kill him.
The biggest boy came forward and grabbed the spot of lace at the throat of Tremaen's shirt, unaffected by any struggling or resistance. “See, he thinks he's a girl.” The shirt tore again as the lace came off and Tremaen thudded hard to the ground.
“So, Grayst, what do we do with uppity freaks who think they're girls?” The big boy asked one of his gang as he reached down to grab Tremaen's foot. Trying to scramble away, Tremaen whimpered as he felt the hand vice grip on his ankle.
“Show him different?” The smaller boy answered with a gleam in his eye.
“That's right, Grayst.” The large bully pulled the tiny Tremaen into the center of the circle. All he could do was throw his arms up and await the beating that was about to commence. Dead at nine was not what he wanted.
Instead of the expected blows, something that felt like a stick hit his arm as if it had fallen softly. Slowly, Tremaen brought down his arms enough to see the head bully rubbing his head and the whole gang looking off at something to the side. “Leave him alone!”
Raising his head a bit, Tremaen got a look at the speaker. It was the girl, Ourna, from Master Mehtar's place. She was holding a little play bow with a half dozen blunted arrows in a tiny quiver on her back. He realized that that was the thing that had fallen, a little child's play arrow, and she had another fixed on the head bully. Blinking baffledly, Tremaen wondered why she would possibly help him. He hated her, and he was sure she hated him right back.
“Why should we?”
“'Cause if you don't, I'll beat you all up.” She shot off another of her little play arrows, hitting the head bully square in the nose. As the big boy wailed about his nose, hopping around, she continued. “And I'll tell my mother. And she'll tell all your mothers. I know who all of you are…cousins.” She spat the last word and dropped her little bow to put up her fists. “Who's first?”
Now, as she spoke, Tremaen watched all the boys start thinking over their actions, and each word brought them closer to their inevitable conclusion. They dispersed in the wake of the girl's undaunted fury, and none took her up on her offer. Of course, they made all sorts of excuses, but they left all the same.
After they had all disappeared down the street, Tremaen looked back to Ourna, wincing as she approached. She probably just wanted to beat him up all by herself.
But again, expected blows didn't come. She just took his face in her hands, businesslike, and looked him over. “You okay?” she asked.
“Um, sure,” he answered, uncertainly.
She straightened, dusting her pudgy hands off on her skirt. “Good. Don't pay any attention to them.”
“Kind of hard not to when they're hitting you.” Tremaen pushed himself up slowly. Why, why was she being so nice?
“Oh, we can teach you things.” She smiled a little at him and offered her hand. “Let's go home, okay?”
Hesitantly, he took the hand. “Okay.” Well, whatever just happened, she had his loyalty. Those bullies were sure scared of her. But he could still hate her, right?