11Markus L Grader was in a miserable state, wondering which unknown deity he had mocked as he floated, clinging to a small metal jerry can, nothing but ocean, rain, and dark storm cloud for miles. Dangling from the small metal can Markus drifted through the black, waves constantly crashing over him, but he had long since grown numb to the pain, the cold wet the only sensation clinging to his being, freezing him to his core. He had no idea how long he had been adrift, no idea what time of day it was. It could have been a few minutes, it could have been a day, he could not tell. As it was, when the wind was knocked from him again, for the upteenth time his brain failed to register the solid ground beneath his back. Slowly, almost painfully he willed his eyes to open, breathing raggedly as the water continued to rise and fall, pulling the sand away from his body as the ocean attempted to reclaim its prize. Mark groaned, forcing his cramped and tired muscles to drag himself farther up the beach.
His eyes opened again, the light sprinkle of rain still present, but it had slackened considerably, leaving the ironically thirsty man to sit up carefully. He winced, yet he knew the pain had lessened considerably from when he had first dragged his limp form from the edge of the water. He hefted the jerry can, pulling it into his lap and began twisting the lid, giving it a sniff as an unknown liquid sloshed around within. It did not smell of kerosene or gasoline so he gave it a taste, completely ignoring the possible consequences. Metallic water trickled into his mouth and with a start he realized just how dry his mouth was, the pain igniting as the moisture returned. One gulp and he put the can down, paused for a moment, and then returned it to his lips, sucking down mouthful after mouthful until he felt sick. Mark nearly doubled over as he tried to retain the water, and much to his relief succeeded before he recapped the jerry can and forced himself to stand, the slight sprinkle of rain not seeming so bad any more. With his free hand he patted down his wet uniform, searching himself for anything.
One book of matches, they would need to dry but they should last. His Id, stamped with bright red with the words Draft and 105th Armored Infantry. Several bank notes, and a few minted silver coins, seven to be exact. A small black and white photo of his Mother, Father, and baby brother. Then lastly, the hilt of his service knife, still secured snuggly, more so than his side arm had seemed to be as the nine millimeter pistol seemed to have fallen in the waves somewhere along the way. Markus sighed but he knew it was better than nothing.
He looked both ways down the beach but could see nothing, so he turned to the brush and started making his way in land without the barest hint of a clue as to where he was going.
[-]
Jack Immanda was down on his luck, leaned up against his cart, letting the rain gently was over his dirty off white garb. He struck his hands against his pants and stood, feeling her eyes upon him once more. Jack did his best not to look back, for he did not once more wish to feel the guilt that followed him. He could picture the creature behind him, kneeling, watching him, growing gaunter by the day. But no one wanted a fox, felines and hybrids were just fine sure, but apparently no one could use the vixen as a worker. Jack pulled his pipe out, eyeing it with distaste as he packed it. The pipe, like his business, was his father's, like his father before him. Yet the coin still came every time Jack had need it, so he did not let himself just abandon the trade, it was all he knew. He stomach growed then, and he felt the knot in his stomach twist, the feeling reminding him of an unlucky bar brawl in which he had taken the tip of a dagger to the gut. He opened his storage box on his cart once more and pulled a chunk of jerked beef from within, carefully tossing it into the half covered cage in the back before turning away, lighting his pipe.
Something crunched in the woods beside him and Jack turned, surprised to find another face looking back, equally confused by the new face. The man was clad in a blue coat, a metal container of some kind sloshing by his side. The man then slowly raised a hand and Jack eased away from the sword, seeing the man's only weapon strapped to his side, a large knife of some kind. Jack took a moment, taking in the dark eyed, dark haired man from as distance before nodding back. "What brings you out this way stranger?"
The man hiked his fist up, pointing his thumb back. "A large storm hit while I was at sea, and I was washed ashore nearby… would you have any food for trade?"
Jack took his words in for a moment and then nodded. "Just a minute." Jack went back to his cart and opened his stores again, pulling a bundle of jerked beef from the box and approaching the man. "How does this look?"
The man nodded, reached into his back pocket, and produced a paper note and a silver coin. "Sorry I don't have anything more."
Jack eyed the coin, before taking a quick look at the man, a noble, standing before him. "No no sir, it is quite alright. Perhaps I could interest you in the purchase of another item?"
The man seemed to be about to protest when his eyes fell on the opencart, the tarp covered cage that Jack now approached. Perfect he thought. "She is in-"
"No, not interested." Jack looked back in surprise, the man's eyes seemed to have hardened and he now looked away, preparing to leave.
"But sir, she is in her prime! Keidran like her do not fall from the sky every day! She can cook, clean, track… maybe even bed you-" The man turned back, glaring at Jack, then the Keidran. Perfect, a pervert. "Only four silver for your troubles."
Four silver found their way into Jack's hand, and he nodded, suppressing the feeling in his gut he was once more doing something wrong as he unlocked the cage, and passing the man a short rope halter. From the back, his captive, a fox Keidran exited, her only possession being the short cloth skirt that partially preserved what was left of her modesty, her thick red fur clumped in several places by what looked like sand. She climbed from the cage and slowly the man led her away from cart. Jack smiled, and looked up as the sun touched his face, the clouds overhead breaking.
[-]
Markus led the girl onwards. He had never seen the likes of her kind before, but he could not leave her… not with that man. He cast yet another look back at the dejected woman and finally motioned for her to sit upon a small log beside the muddy trail. She seemed to flinch as he came close, but Mark ignored it as he loosened the rope and pulled it from around her neck. Next he removed his coat, and under that his white uniform shirt that he proffered to the woman who took it with a strange look on her face as Mark once more pulled his coat on.
He looked down at the length of rope in his hand, and with a sudden spark of genius that left the woman before him baffled he ran the rope through the jerry can's handle and swung it over his shoulder, stretching his cramped fingers. It was then Mark pressed half the bundle of jerky to the woman and pointed north. "North, east, south, west. No idea which way you have to go, but good luck miss." With that he produced his one of his two merical belongings, his soft cap, and placed it upon his head, rolling up his sleeves as he set off down the road, producing his other lucky belonging, a pack of drying cigarettes. He stuck one between his lips and produced a match, striking it and lighting the white cylinder with a long pull, smoke flooding his lungs as he tried to make himself feel he did the right thing. Sure, over half his funds were gone, but he had gotten by on less before.
It had been a few minutes of walking, the cigarette rapidly dwindling down to a butt when he heard coughing. Markus turned in surprise, finding the woman still behind him, his white shit and her stained tan cloth skirt still there. He screwed up his mouth, dropping the butt and grinding it into the soft mud with a sigh. "Are you alright miss?"
"I am unsure." She said, attempting to avoid eye contact. Markus simply smiled.
"Well then, come on, walk with me, and we can talk." The woman looked up at him in surprise but nodded as she moved closer, yet not too close to him. Mark continued to smile. "The name is Markus Grader, but please, call me Mark."
The woman eyed him for a moment. "Sparrow…"
Markus smiled. "Pleasure to meet you Sparrow."
[-]
Notes
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Yes yes, I haven't updated the other story (RAPF) in a while, honestly I wrote myself into a corner, but, I had an idea for a different story! Sorry for the short into but I hope everyone enjoys it! I am also in the park for a beta still as I am 100% certain there is a mistake somewhere up there. Until then, feel free to rate and review, or just enjoy WSSS! -Gate (If anyone has a name better than sparrow… I am all ears.)
