Has my nose grown numb to the smell of blood? Was the moon always this bright? Birds aren’t supposed to sing at this time... the streets sound so busy, is there a festival?
I don’t think I’m supposed to be here... -- Anon Guest
On very rare occasions, someone can step between time to a different era. Almost every time this happens, it's someone that either era would not notice. In this case, it was someone who one era would never miss.
Scat was probably five years old, and didn't think she'd live to see her seventh birthday. Such was the lot of Hellkin living on the streets. The dark shadowless streets were outlined in shades of grey as she avoided anyone bigger than her[1]. Her breath made thin phantoms in the night. The coldest night of the year.
She tripped as she rounded a corner, and stumbled into a different time entirely.
The sunlight blinded her for only a moment, and the bustling crowds babbling confounded her ears. She huddled where she was until someone moved a box she was hiding near and yawped at her presence.
Scat hurried through the legs of the crowds, followed by occasional yelps as she startled more than a few, but dodged them all. She fetched up in a shrubbery. Dizzy. Out of breath. Trembling in every scant muscle. And right next to some tables and chairs made out of iron, and the tantalising smell of cooked food.
The nearest table had some absolute giants sitting at it. A huge green Harukh and a squat and hairy D'varuv. They were busy babbling at each other and leaving food uneaten.
The Harukh negligently placed a whole basket-bowl of something on a vacant chair to make room for more food. It boggled Scat's scattered and frayed mind.
Nevertheless, she held her breath to sneak out far enough to snatch it. She huddled in the shrubbery and stuffed the contents into her cheeks, bite by bite.
Cheeks stuffed to bursting, Scat eased the basket-bowl back to the chair from whence it came. She hid and chewed and swallowed and watched. The food was unfamiliar, but delicious, so Scat did her best to swallow it quickly.
By that time, there was another little basket of food waiting on the chair.
After three such baskets, the Harukh said, "If you come sit on the chair, little one, I'll buy you a drink."
"Yes," said the D'varuv, "we knew you were there the whole time. We're not going to hurt you."
Scat sidled out of her hiding place and edged onto the chair, and shown a menu with colourful pictures the like of which she'd never seen before. They looked real enough to snatch out of their frames!
"Elihania is going to love you," said the Harukh. "And I'd like to talk about where you're from. After a good drink, of course."
The 'berry blast' milkshake was enormous and very pretty to look at. Piled high with cream and iced cream and colourful crunchy things they called 'sprinkles' in every hue of the rainbow. Scat didn't bother with the spoon nor the straw. Just used her hands to cram her mouth with the pile and then chugged the rest lest someone take it away.
Elihania was an Elf. Tall and slender and stunningly beautiful and stupid in love with both the Harukh and the D'varuv ladies plying Scat with food. Her greeting for Scat was a high-pitched squeal and a delighted, "You found us a baby?"
They cleaned Scat up in a small washroom with privies in it, and healed her wounds, and then let Scat show them where she lived.
The ruin of a warehouse wasn't there any more. That was their first clue that she'd stepped between centuries. As was Scat's confusion regarding modern technology, and some of her street slang that was long since extinct.
Scat was completely content to stay with her three new mothers in their big comfortable house and would rather forget about ever being a starving little criminal, thank you very much.
[1] Everyone else
[Photo by Gaurav Kumar on Unsplash]
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