It was easier to breathe. A crowd had started to cluster around the fight, but Ninian’s world had cleared to him and the stranger, and he didn’t see them.
The fight had begun reactively, borne out of something he didn’t understand, but this… he could handle this. Blows and dodges. That was all he needed to cope with. He didn’t need to think. He just needed to move.
And he moved.
The man’s fist landed on Ninian’s shoulder, rocking Ninian back, and the man looked briefly jubilant.
Ninian didn’t even feel it. He let the force of the impact turn him and sent his fist spinning into the man’s neck. While the man choked, hands instinctively going to his throat, Ninian danced back, catching his breath.
He could feel his mother’s hands guiding him, showing him where to strike and place his balance—he’d trained to fight, to defend, and maybe the man wasn’t a threat at all, but Ninian couldn’t stop.
This felt good. Better than the burning in his chest.
There was a sound he was having trouble processing, and as the man hacked, Ninian dared a glance around him.
The crowd.
The crowd was…
Cheering.
Ninian blinked. They couldn’t be cheering for him, but to cheer for the man seemed foolish, if he was losing.
Ninian froze. Wait.
The man was losing. Ninian was fighting, and he was winning, and the man was losing!
A strange smile broke over Ninian’s face, a too-sharp, half-mad smile that he could not dim, and without waiting any longer, he braced his foot against the curb and launched himself at the man.
The man didn’t get his hands up in time. Ninian connected with his middle, driving his shoulder up under the man’s ribs, and the man landed hard on his back, all the wind rushing from his lungs. He choked, rolling over and trying to inhale, but he did not get back up.
Ninian stepped back, panting, and let his hands fall.
The crowd had gone quiet. Slowly, murmurs reached Ninian’s awareness, and he looked to find people gaping at him, their mouths starting to move. He blinked, trying to gather himself, and backed up a few steps before his feet hit the curb, and something inside of him went weak. He tripped and fell, and the ground swam before his eyes.
The noise of the crowd was pressing in on Ninian. He didn’t know what to make of it, only that it was overwhelming and yet somehow not wholly bad, and… he was dizzy?
Somehow, the ground found its way under his shoulder. “Oh.”
“Make way. For Gods’ sakes, move it—let me through—oi! Kid!”
There was a new person now, a woman, and she knelt by Ninian’s side. Ninian blinked at her, shuffling away as far as he could.
“Kid, are you all right?” The woman’s eyes were wide and concerned, a bright yellow-green. “Are you hurt?”
Ninian swallowed drily. “I’m fine. Fine.”
“Wait, wait,” she said, holding out her palms placatingly. “Just wait a minute.”
Using the corner of a building, Ninian struggled to his feet. The world, however, apparently wasn’t done tipping, and he ended up on the ground again. “Leave me alone.”
“Where are you going?”
That was a good question, actually. Ninian wasn’t sure exactly where he was, but he was fairly certain that his new flat was farther away than he could walk at that moment. “Home,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”
“Where’s home?”
Ninian looked at her suspiciously. The crowd was dispersing behind her, losing interest since the fight had ended, but she didn’t look like she was going to move. He made his way to his feet again, taking a deep breath to stop his head from spinning. “What’s it to you?”
To his surprise, a touch of sadness entered the woman’s face. “Look, kid,” she said with a sigh. “I just want to help, okay?” She tipped her head from side to side like she was trying to get a crick out of her neck. “Your call, but there’s a hot meal back at my place. Not much, but I’d share if you wanted it.”
“I’m not hungry.”
The woman looked at him skeptically. “Sure, you’re not.”
A drop of water landed on the ground between Ninian’s feet, and then another one plinked off the edge of the roof. In a few moments, rain was spitting down, even though cold sunlight still crept through the clouds in a patchy attempt at dominance. Ninian swore under his breath.
“S’gonna rain all night,” the woman said with a sigh, following his gaze skyward. “I can tell, I get a headache before it does that.”
“It’s always raining,” Ninian growled.
The woman shrugged. “That’s winter for ya.” She fluffed the curly hair at the back of her neck. “Cold, wet, and miserable to be on the streets. You are on the streets, aren’t you?”
Ninian felt himself hesitate a half-second too long. “No.”
“Then I’ll up my offer,” the woman said. “I have a hot meal… and a roof.” She tucked her hands into the crooks of her elbows as it started raining harder. “It’s your choice. If you want to take me up on it, my place is the one with the green door, down this street to the right.” She looked up at the sky, squinting against the raindrops. “I’m going to get inside now. Don’t fancy having a bath.” With a little wave, she turned away. “If I don’t see you, take care of yourself.”
The rain, now falling in a wind-gusted downpour, quickly obscured her retreating figure.
Ninian watched her go, and icy rainwater slid under his collar and down his spine. Already, he was shivering again.
This day had been horrible.
“Gods damn it all,” he muttered.
After a few more seconds of rain-washed deliberation, he followed the woman down the street.
The green-doored tenement wasn’t hard to find, though Ninian thought ‘green’ might have been a bit of an overstatement. It didn’t look like it had ever actually been painted, but the wood was old enough to have sprouted lichen. Over the door, a bundle of rowan branches hung—it wasn’t an uncommon sight, and Ninian knew it would do a better job warding off the fae than any knotted-string charm. When Ninian, lips pressed together, reluctantly rapped his knuckles on the door, it made a soft thudding sound.
It opened after just a few seconds, and Ninian found himself faced with a child maybe half his age. A little crust of snot ringed the girl’s nose. “Who are you?”
“Ciara!” A voice called from farther inside, and then the yellow-eyed woman’s head popped around the corner. “Let him in, Ciara.”
The girl stepped aside, regarding Ninian curiously, and he slowly stepped inside. The woman smiled warmly at him and moved to close the door. “I’m glad you decided to come, dear. What’s your name?”
The place was small, but uneven stairs led up to another floor. The walls were bare wood, but they blocked the wind, and the air was warm from a fire burning in a flat-stone hearth. “I’m Ninian,” he said, hugging himself. He’d gotten soaked all over again.
“My name’s Laoise,” said the woman. “Here, I’ll take your cloak, all right? Go an’ sit by the fire, an’ I’ll bring you something to eat.”