As Peter walked through the woods, he whistled a happy tune. Despite thinking that he might go crazy, he was excited that he would be able to go to Hilgaria. There, he would be safe, he could get some food, and even a warm bed.
Peter relished in the thought of laying in a warm bed again. His stomach growled at the thought of hot food. Peter silently told his stomach that in a few days time he would get the hot food that his stomach wanted.
Then, of course, Peter's mind wandered back to the thought of the voice. The one that had told him to go north towards Hilgaria in the first place.
It seemed odd that there would be a disembodied voice talking to him, although it would make sense if Peter was just losing his mind. He hadn't eaten much in the past few days, let alone have enough water for a normal human being to intake. Maybe he was just hallucinating.
"Peter," said someone, but it wasn't the voice like before, which sounded faint and feminine. This one sounded more monotone and male.
Peter whirled around, not sure where the voice had come from.
"Wh-who's there?" Peter said timidly, not wanting a fight. If robbers came he'd have no way to defend himself, let alone anything to give them to make them go away.
"I-I don't have any money." Peter said a little more bravely, showing whoever had said his name that his pockets were empty.
It had chilled him to the bone how someone could know what his name was. He had never, ever, told anyone his real name, as to not draw suspicion because of all the things he stole.
"Oh," the voice laughed, as Peter turned around, trying to find out who was talking, "We don't need your money..."
Peter gasped as 4 men rose from out of the bushes and behind the trees, all carrying weapons. They jeered at him, cruel smiles on their faces.
"Please," Peter begged, "I-I don't have anything to give you, just please...l-leave me alone."
Peter backed away from the men, holding his hands up in defense, until he bumped into something.
No, not something, someone.
Peter slowly tilted his head up, until he saw the smiling man above him.
"Uh...h-hello," Peter tried for a joke, waving hand to him in a gesture of hello. Then he turned his open palm into a fist and punched the man in the jaw.
The man grunted, doubling over in pain. Peter began to dash away from the men, using his size against them. He tried to scramble underneath one of the men's legs, but the man reached down and grabbed Peter by the collar.
Peter kicked and bit at the man, yelling, "Let me go! Let me go, you lazy bastards! Let me go!"
The man whom Peter had punched before walked up to where the other man was holding Peter by the collar, rubbing his sore jaw.
"You're gonna pay for that, you dirty rat," the man glared at him, then smiled as he brought out a club.
"Oh no. No no no no no," Peter shook his head, looking up at the man holding him. "Y-you don't have to do this, we can just talk this out like gentle-"
The man raised the club and hit Peter across the head, the last thing Peter seeing was the man's grinning face before Peter blacked out.
...
Peter groaned as he slowly came to, looking briefly at his hands and feet, which were tied. He was sitting in front of a fire surrounded by 2 girls and a boy, who were all tied up as well.
Peter blinked a few times, then started to ask, "Where...?"
"Welcome to the land of the living," The boy next to Peter rolled his eyes, wrinkling his nose at Peter. Great, Peter thought, he was next to one of those guys.
"Oh come on," a girl with brown skin and raven hair protested, "It took you just as long to wake up."
"Did not," the boy sneered.
"Enough, please." the other girl, a blonde with big blue eyes pleaded, "I don't like people fighting. We all just need to be calm-"
"4 down, 2 to go," a man walked in with neatly combed hair and a trimmed goatee. Peter nearly jumped out of his skin as he looked at the man's scary face, which was highlighted by the flickering fire.
The man strode over to Peter, looked him up and down, and sniffed in disapproval.
"A bit scrawny."
Peter only glared at him.
"What are you going to do with us?" Peter demanded, "You don't deserve to just kidnap people!"
"You'll see soon enough," the man said, "Once the other 2 arrive. And yes, I can kidnap people. I can do whatever I want."
"Other two?" the girl who had asked for them to stop fighting raised an eyebrow.
The man simply just laughed and walked away.
The boy next to Peter rolled his eyes. "That Boromir doesn't give many clarifying answers."
"Clary-what?" the blonde girl asked, her brows drawn tight.
"Clarifying," the dark skinned girl said, "It means it makes it more comprehendible."
"Compre...hendible?"
"It helps you understand something better," the boy scoffed, "Not like you would understand."
The blonde girl looked at the ground, ashamed of her confusion.
"It's okay, Helen," the darker skinned girl said, "He just doesn't understand how to treat people." Then she glared over at the boy, who wouldn't look at either of them.
There was a small silence after that, which Peter broke by clearing his throat and asking the dark girl, "What's your name?"
"Alice Ellison," was her answer.
"Peter Webster." Peter returned.
"And this is Helen," Alice indicated the blonde girl, who perked up and waved at Peter, a big smile on her face. Peter awkwardly waved back.
"And the sarcastic guy over there," Alice pointed to the snobby one who didn't like any of them, it seemed, "Boromir called him Richard."
Peter grumbled a curse at the boy in the Ancient Tongue, and Alice immediately sat straight up.
"You know the Ancient Tongue?" she asked excitedly.
"Uh...yeah..." Peter felt his cheeks go red, embarrassed if it was something wrong, "My mother taught me, so I'm pretty fluent in it. Why don't you know it?"
"I'm Thuron."
"Cool."
"Really?" Alice raised an eyebrow, "Most people don't like the fact that I'm Thuron. They think we have witches. Although...it might just be because I'm black."
Peter shrugged. "I don't see a problem with you being black."
Alice offered a small smile. "Thanks, Peter."
Peter sighed. "People just don't like what's different. It's too confusing for them to see something that isn't normal, so then they exclude it from the group. It makes you feel unwanted, but at the end of the day, you're just...different." Peter had been staring into the fire as he was saying this, and when he was done he looked over at Alice. "You know what I mean?" Alice nodded, silent tears brimming in her eyes.
"Sorry," Peter apologized, as he brought his knees up to his chest, "I just don't know how to talk to people."
There was a long pause, and all of the children stared into the fire.
"So when did your mother teach you the language?" Alice broke the silence by changing the subject.
"Uh...I think I was 5." Peter answered, looking at the stars beginning to peak from behind the leaves of the trees.
"She must be a great teacher."
"Yeah," Peter agreed, then added quietly, "She was."
"I'm so sorry," Peter looked up and saw Alice sitting there, staring into the fire as a tear rolled down her cheek.
"Hey," Peter said with a small smile, "It's not your fault. You've still got your family, right? They're probably worried sick about you. I don't have anyone to miss me, but I'm sure you'll find-"
"I lost my entire family yesterday," Alice practically whispered, the tears welling in her eyes.
"Oh," Peter stared at the ground, "I'm sorry."
He wasn't just apologizing for her loss, he was also apologizing for assuming such a thing and bringing up the subject. God, was he bad at talking to people...
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