Chapter 2 - A Roof Over Head

Something wet touched his forehead. It wasn't cold, it was warm and pleasant. He opened an eye to a slit and peered out. A slim, pale figure leaned over him, wiping his forehead with a damp cloth.

''Where am I...?'' He mumbled hoarsely.
''You are in the guest room of a house in the Sing Gardens estate. You are in a bad way.'' Said that same, sweet voice, cooeing to him through the haze of sleep.
''How long have I been here?''
''A few days. I have cleaned you and dressed your wounds.''

He opened both eyes, the haze slowly clearing, and found himself looking up at a creamy coloured Eastern with a white mane, double horns and pale blue eyes. She was wearing a white silken dressing gown, blue flowers weaving about the delicate fabric, breaking up the paleness.
''I can't stay here...'' He grumbled as he slowly pulled himself upright.
He looked down at what he was on. It seemed to be a pile of exotic cushions in the form of an oval shaped nest on the floor in the centre of the room, a light cover lay over him. He saw his clothes neatly piled on a low table in the corner of the light room.

''You haven't healed properly yet.'' She said, placing a tentative paw on his chest.
''I've had worse.'' He wheezed as his ribs ached.
''I'm sure you have. But I'd feel better knowing that you're healed properly when you go to leave.''
Mystikal surrendered, feeling something in his back pop, and lowered himself back down onto the nest of cushions.
''I am Lyn.'' She said once she saw he was comfortable once more.
''Mystikal.'' He replied.

''I own this house, so you can stay as long as you wish. I am not racist like most outside. Infact, I find you quite intriguing.'' She said coily.
A faint smile worked it's way onto Mystikal's lips. ''Thankyou.'' He said as she got up and headed for the door.
Lyn dipped her head. ''I'll bring you some food.'' Then she disappeared through the doorway.


Three days passed and Mystikal was fully recovered. Lyn had been the perfect hostess towards him. She wasn't rude. She offered help and gave it to him. Put a roof over his head and gave him food and drink. He could feel his guilt rising up within him. He could never pay her back, and even if he could, he wouldn't know how. He sat on the rear porch, looking out into the lush garden. A stream with white lillies weaved between perfectly placed ornamental rocks and small islands of greenery, and a small, finely carved bridge arched over the water. A small pagoda sat at the end of the garden, tucked away between tree ferns and cherry blossoms. A tall, elegant wall surrounded the garden, closing it off from the rest of the outside world, adding peace to the tranquility. It was the perfect hide away; No risk of being seen or heard by the neighbours.

''I'll be leaving tomorrow.'' Mystikaly said without turning.
Lyn stood beside him, looking out into the garden too.
''You don't have to leave. It's been nice having company.'' She said.
''And it's been nice having somewhere comfortable to sleep, but there's no way I can repay you for what you've done.'' He said, turning his head to look at her.
''Yes there is; Don't leave. Stay.''
Mystikal struggled to find words, but failed. Was she so lonely as to seek company from a lowly outcast, a thief, such as himself?
''I'll stay a few more days. Then I really must go before they find out I'm here. I don't want you to get hurt the way I've been hurt.'' He found himself saying, secretly cursing himself for agreeing to stay when he knew the danger of staying in the same place for longer than two days.

His bitterness towards himself quickly evaporated when he saw her smile. He'd grown fond of that sweet smile and the way her eyes glittered within the past few days, now realising why he'd said that he'd stay a while longer. She placed a paw on his as he leaned on the wooden railing and he gave her paw a gentle squeeze, pulling herself into a warm embrace, Lyn burying her face in his shoulder, inhaling his scent deeply.
''You must understand that I got to keep moving in order to survive.'' He whispered in her ear.
''No one should live like that.'' She replied, looking into his eyes, a tear of sorrow rolling down her face.

He gently wiped the tear away and wrapped his wings around her, not wanting to let her go. She looked so delicate even though he'd seen her practising the martial arts, her skill the finest he'd ever seen, but he found himself wanting to protect her from those that had broken him so many times, leaving him shattered in more ways than one. She looked up at him and kissed him, her whiskers entwining his as he reacted to her, his tongue carressing hers. The kiss was broken when she pulled back, face the same colour as her red blossom kimono.

''Forgive me. I shouldn't have done that.'' She stuttered, averting her gaze and pulling free of his grip.
''No need to apologise.'' He said.
But she scurried away, head dipped, back into the house, sliding the red wood and paper door closed behind her, leaving the grey crossbreed stood on the damp porch.

He dared to keep his word, so he stayed for two more days, sliding out of the side door and into the fading light, hood pulled up, padding down the path, eyes alert, ears straining. He'd left Lyn a note thanking her and apologising for leaving without a proper goodbye. He made it off the Sing Gardens estate and headed back to the park, in search for his pack that was lost when he was attacked by the three Easterns. The small clump of trees he'd taken refuge in stood proud before him, the dying sun illuminating them in a soft, rose pink glow. He approached them cautiously and started looking for his tattered pack, not really expecting to ever see it again, but there it lay, in a drying mud puddle between two trees.

He picked it up slowly, and examined it. Tears here and there, fraying seems and a damaged buckle to hold the flap down. The only thing different about it was the crusting mud splattered on it. Nothing was missing from it. There was very little he could lose. A small, black leather case sat at the bottom of the pack's grimey innards. His lock picking set which he'd been given, a birthday present from the only person who seemed to have cared for him. The remains of the loaf he'd stolen wrapped up in a greying piece of cotton, and old tooth brush, and a small blue pouch containing what little money he had in his possession.

Mystikal slung the pack over his shoulder and headed off in the opposite direction, towards the river that split the city up into two, wondering if he could find a job in the hopes of raising enough money for a decent meal. Or a boat, he thought suddenly, surprising even himself. A small boat to sail further up river, to see what was up there, wondering if there were more people in the world like the kindly old woman who had taken him in when he was little or Lyn, who had given him a temporary roof over his head. The curiosity was too much. He would do it, or die trying.

He made his way to the third, connecting bridge, a large, metal structure, the suspension cables like giant spider webs stretching to the sky, small red, green, blue and white lights dotted about the complicated structure like Fire Flies, resting their wings, illuminating the night around them. He strode across the bridge, wings tucked firmly against himself, trying to keep to the shadows, hoping no one would notice him. The otherside of the river was in sight. The tall, modern building reared up like bleak, featureless monsters of concrete and glass, ready to devour any hapless wanderer who strayed too close. Ships and boats bobbed in the waters below, firmly docked for the night as the mariners slept, dreaming of full nets and calm seas.

He stepped off the bridge, the false bright lights of the concrete jungle piercing the darkness of his hood and stinging his eyes. He kept his head low and his pace fast and silent as he wove between the buildings, the layout of the twin city burned into his brain. So many years he'd been walking these streets and very little had changed. The people were the same, the buildings were the same, even the plant life and vehicles seemed to be the same. It annoyed him. Everything was so monotonouse on the Western side. Boring, logical and sterile, unlike it's sister, an ancient beauty, looking so delicate, yet it had withstood the test of time with ease.

He ducked down a back alley between two buildings and rounded a corner, finding it crammed with bins and dumpsters. Cardboard boxes and black bin bags were scattered about. Old rear doorways stood empty and dark, gaping like toothless mouths in the bleak face of a wall that seperated the oustide and the inside. The door had rusted shut, no one had used it for quite some time. Mystikal curled up in the doorway, using his pack as a make shift pillow like he did so many times and let the city's natural rythm lull him into an uneasy sleep.

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