Legend Land: Tale of the Nameless God

Chapter 20.2: Aftershock

Part 2

Word Count: 1391

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"Mm, delicious!" Zosingh exclaimed quietly with a content smack of her lips. She finished off the last of her bread and licked the crumbs off her fingers. She finished her quick meal with a short prayer to Ozwiena while keeping her eyes out for trouble. Just because she was thankful to the goddess didn't mean she would stoop her head and close her eyes to offer gratitude. Piety on the move was essential in the Malorian streets.

Her mother would have offered thanks to Svarozhich for the bread. Since her mother worked with craftmen and forges, she obviously showed devotion to a god of fire. Zosingh, however, was partial to the goddess of voice. It was the power of words that got the discount on bread, after all. She liked to offer prayers and the occasional slice of meat to a certain seven-headed warrior god, just in case push ever came to shove. Because in the middle of a fight, who wouldn't want seven pairs of friendly eyes watching their back?

"Um, excuse me...do you have any bread left?" a timid voice called out to her. She turned in the direction of the voice and spotted a young woman, probably only a few years older than herself. Zosingh looked the scrawny girl up and down with a calculating gaze. The girl returned the look, her wide eyes pausing at the large bite marks and scars on Zosingh's legs before coming back to her eyes.

"Nope," Zosingh said dismissively, and began walking again.

"Please! I don't need much! Just a little."

"I don't have any," Zosingh said again, this time with firmness.

"I don't have money, I can't afford—"

"Not my problem," she said, stopping and pushing the girl back. Callousness, age nine. It only takes feeding one hungry alley dog to realize not every pet is like Karuth. Some don't want rice bake scraps, but flesh. "Go beg to a priest, or somebody who cares." The other girl recoiled in shock, tears springing to her eyes.

"Why are you so mean?" the older girl demanded.

"Because that's the way it is. We both know you don't survive here by being nice."

"My family...they lost everything," the older girl mumbled with a downcast gaze. Zosingh's rude veneer nearly cracked, but the small girl steeled herself. No, you can't back down, she thought. She remembered the sight of her mother's missing ear, and her sister's disfigured foot. I won't be another fool.

"Not. My. Problem," Zosingh said and punctuated each word with a shove. "Leave me alone." She turned her back on the other girl, and began to walk towards a side street. Which, it turned out, was a bad idea.

Something hard cracked against her head, and she stumbled to the ground. She instinctively felt the back of her head, and her hand came back covered in blood. Zosingh fought the urge to vomit at the sight, and swallowed hard. She wasn't going to waste fresh bread.

The older girl stood at the edge of the road, a jagged rock held in her hand. She was breathing heavy, with a wild look in her eyes.

"Hey, listen," Zosingh cautioned while making her unsteady way to her feet. Though she prayed to gods of war, that didn't mean she could fight. Her mother's pacifism was a difficult yoke to shake. "It's nothing personal, I promise."