Nydryn’s eyes filled with pain as Syndre exposed her tattoo. It felt like her heart was ripping in half as she stared at it. Memories came flooding back, good memories of her mother and the absence of a mother figure for part of her life had scarred her. It wasn’t even like her mother had been taken against her will… her mother had given herself voluntarily, and it wasn’t a pleasant memory. That one was like a thorn in the rose bushes of her memories… up until the age of 11. Then most of her memories became bad. Living on the streets had given her scars, emotionally, socially, and physically. Nydryn turned her face away, and pulled her sleeve back over her tattoo. “Please don’t” she murmured softly, staring up into his deep blue eyes. She turned her back on Syndre and again began walking down the alley. Being with him brought back many memories, both good and bad. Now another person knew of her tattoo. She had tried her best to keep it a secret because she had gotten it when she was younger and because the reason for getting it was so sentimental. Nydryn’s footsteps, like always, were quiet and short as she approached the exit of the alley. She turned back once to glance at Syndre, but as soon as he looked at her, her head whipped back around. Trying to remember where she was going when Syndre had stopped her, Nydryn walked past many alleys and finally stopped in front of a house that she recognized. She stepped up to the door, and knocked boldly. A woman about Nydryn’s age answered the door. The woman looked at Nydryn, her dirty clothes, tangled hair, worn bag and frowned. “What do you want?” she snarled, a frown remaining on her face, “You street rat types better leave us rich folk alone.” Nydryn’s eyes widened, “Uh, I don’t need anything…” she whispered, the woman’s angry glare surprising her. Her feet began to work, and Nydryn was walking backwards. She hadn’t been looking where she was going, and tripped over a clay pot in front of the woman’s house. Nydryn scampered off, and ran towards another alley. The alleys seemed to provide a secure blanket for her… more people like herself. She cursed, bending down over her bag. She had seemed so weak at the woman’s house, and she still didn’t know anything about her mother. Nydryn’s food supply was running low, she noticed as she rummaged around in her bag. Finding a comb, she pulled it through her hair, hoping to make it more acceptable. Where should she go next? Her heart told her to keep looking for more houses… more people to try and find information from. Her head, however told her that this search for her mother was stupid, and that she should give up and to stop dwelling on the past. Nydryn stuffed her comb back in her bag, and picked it up, suddenly running. She ran into a man at the end of the alley and brushed by him. Not looking where she was going, she bumped into many people, and they all turned hate filled eyes on her. Finally collapsing on a bridge which went over a canal, Nydryn’s eyes filled with tears. Glancing around to make sure no one was there, Nydryn let them come. The street she was on had no people on it at the time, and Nydryn looked at the canal. With the tears in her eyes, it seemed blurry, and she angrily wiped them away. She pulled her knees to her chest again, the pose being somewhat comforting. She should be stronger than this. She had been living on the streets for at least 9 years, and she looked like a wimpy child, sitting here crying about her mother. Pulling herself into a standing position, she placed her hands on the walls of the bridge and looked out over the canal again. This time, her view was clearer and Nydryn was able to look down the canal at the streets and alleys. Her pale, slim fingers gripped the wall hard as she tried to keep her unwanted feelings at bay. |