His Little Runt

Chapter 4

Alairia

The shove comes before I even know someone's standing behind me, and I gasp as my plate of sweets hits the ground, shattering on impact. My hands hit the gravel next, tiny rocks scraping my skin.

"Useless little girl," someone spits, and I watch as they walk away, their gait confident and proud.

I look down at the dirt covered confections with a small groan. I had promised the kids cookies this morning, and now the crumbs of what I made are lying in a bed of rough gravel and dirt.

I'm used to the jabs and insults outside of my bakery, because if I'm not being useful then I'm considered useless. But not many people get physical. Not unless my presence really offends them. I don't see how shoving me to the ground made that woman's day any better, but to each their own I suppose.

I blow out a rough bout of air before carefully putting all the little glass pieces in a neat pile. There's nothing I can do about the crumbled cookies, but the little critters around here won't mind the snack. I scoop up the pile of shattered porcelain and wince as a rather sharp edge slits my palm.

I toss it in the garbage can outside of the orphanage, cringing at the red that's now staining my skin. I could probably clean my hands up in there, but the kids would ask questions, and I would hate to see the disappointment that my cookieless presence will bring.

I war with my options, not that there are many, and I finally decide to just go back to the bakery when a voice stops me.

"Alairia?"

I turn to find Marcel standing a couple feet away from the steps to the orphanage, his face surprised. Not more surprised than my face must appear though, because I have never seen Marcel inside of the orphanage.

"Hey, Marcel," I greet. "What are you doing here?"

He steps closer to lean against the railing bracketing the stairs I'm currently standing on. I discreetly hide my cut up hands behind me as I face him fully.

"Caden said that Mollly was asking where I was, so I thought I'd surprise her this morning."

I smile. Molly could get an armed troop of soldiers to start playing dolls with her with a single bat of her lashes. The kid is cuteness incarnate.

"That's nice of you," I say. "I doubt you'll only be there for the morning though. I hope you cleared your entire schedule for today, because you know as well as I do that she will keep you there until the sun goes down. I swear she has this expression that she makes and it just melts everything you were going to say right back down your throat. There was this one time I-" I cut myself off, cheeks heating as I realize my babbling took hold again. "Sorry."

Working in the back of a bakery all day doesn't really give much room for talking, not that people in this pack would listen if I tried, but the constant silence I bathe in tends to make my mouth slippery in the presence of anyone who will listen.

Marcel just laughs. "That's all right. I'd love to hear the story sometime, but Molly gets quite impatient as I'm sure you know, so I have to do a rain check for now."

I nod. "Of course. Go ahead."

In my embarrassment, I completely forgot about my hand, and I use it to gesture at the door, staring in horror as I watch little dribbles of blood drip down off of my skin and land on the concrete steps. I look up to see the exact same expression on Marcels face.

I snatch my arm back, but Marcel is already stepping towards me, demanding, "What on earth happened to your hand?"

"It's nothing," I say quickly. "I just slipped and hit the gravel too hard is all."