*All characters are 18+*
The town of Haven was very quiet at this hour. A few of the shops were open, such as the blacksmith's and the dry goods store and the textile shop. But even those shops were lazy, chatting with a wife here to pick up a few essentials, working slowly around the store, or sitting in front, enjoying the rare March sunshine. All of the men were either in their fields tilling the earth, or out at sea sweeping their nets for the early cod. Those that weren't were all gathering in the chapel for the baptizing and naming of Max Tailor's baby girl.
Only three people saw the light craft Windward speeding into the harbor at breakneck pace.
One was a child playing in the mud puddles at the edge of the cobbled main road, one was a plump fisher wife trying to decide between a bolt of blue fabric and grey fabric, and the last was the old proprietor of the tannery.
They watched out of boredom as the light craft halted crazily (but skillfully) at the dock and the shirtless young owner tie it up frantically. His boat was empty. 'What's the rush?', all three of his watchers wondered curiously. Then they saw that the boat wasn't empty.
The lean sun-browned back of Christopher Angler bent low in the boat and came out with a limp figure. All three of them instantly thought it was a girl because of the distance and the long whitish hair that hung in a curtain over Chris's arm.
The young man fled, the person in his arms bouncing and flopping lifelessly. Even from the distance the person looked strange, very pale, and with a God-awful sunburn. Rumors began to spread as Christopher ran to the Spaewife with the strange boy in his arms.
---
Christopher was panting with exhaustion. It took strength to hold the flapping sail taut against the wind, and he had not taken a single break while fleeing across the sea. Every meter of the way he had been tugging the sail out further to catch another iota of wind and another whisper of speed. He had never coaxed the Windward so fast and his arms felt like bars of white-hot lead.
The boy was bundled up in his arms. His legs were long and girlishly slender, and with that odd hairless skin that he found so eerie. The boy's arms were locked firmly around his neck and those eyes wouldn't leave his face.
The boy's eyes were also eerie. They were as large in his face as a child's eyes, almost abnormally large and a strange shade of the deepest blue-purple he had never seen. His eyes didn't even seem to reflect the light. They were shiny with tears and the skin around them that was paler and not so damaged by the sun was red and swollen with weeping. The cracked and blistered lips had not opened once, and he had not made any noises.
"You'll...be okay...boy..." he gasped between gasping for air.
He was running up the rocky path to the Spaewife's hut and the rocks cut his bare feet but he didn't care. When he was at the doorway he shouted.
"Spaewife let me in! Its an emergency!"
The Spaewife came running from out back, wearing a knee-length gardening dress, her hands and knees and feet black with dirt and her eyes wide with surprise. She saw the burnt silent boy in his arms and did not ask questions.
"Come in Christopher."
---
The Spaewife's hut was small and filled with herbs. A cat perched on a dresser that had been made from worn salt-blown driftwood.
"He was... in my nets I have...no idea where he...came from." Chris was still gasping for air.
She pointed to the bed. "Get that shirt of him and put him on the bed. There is a pitcher on the dresser, so try to give him some water slowly, I can get some ointment for his sunburn and those marks on his arms."
Marks? Christopher looked at the arms that were feebly clinging to his neck and saw that the net he had been tangled him had caused several raw angry welts on his arms and legs.
He swore softly and went to the bed to set him down. The boy refused to release him and he made his first noise. It was a wordless begging whimper. So much fear in that one little sound...
"Hush... I wont leave you boy. Please, please let me go."
He spoke softly, as if trying to soothe a spooked animal. After that the boy let him duck out of the circle of his arms and gently pull off the shirt. There he got another shock.
The boy's torso was blank and featureless. He didn't even have nipples or a navel. There was nothing but smooth white skin that was a little burnt near the collarbone. He quickly covered up the boy before the Spaewife could see.
He poured the water into a small bone-china saucer before cradling the boy's limp head in one hand. He nudged the thin edge of the saucer between his swollen blistered lips and tilted it.
