The world came back to Luther in muted colours and sound. Shafts of golden light peeked through the dense leaves above, casting a shimmering pattern on the forest ground. He felt the earth against his cheek and the sharp smell of petrichor. He's still alive. His whole body was stiff as a rock, like the exhaustion was written deep into his bones. His stomach was finally silent – but not from being full though, but rather from the utter lack of anything to growl at.
He pushed himself upright, wholly groggy and disoriented. He felt a cold, stiff weight in his hands and looked down. Its fur was now cold and rigid; and hard as wood. But it didn't matter. He had caught the rabbit. Finally. Luther just stared at it. He didn't care about its condition, only that it was a promise of a meal. He picked it up and held it by its ears.
For a moment, he didn't recognize his surroundings. Every tree looked the same. It didn't matter. It was all the same to him whether he lived or died. Luther wandered aimlessly for a while, twigs and dried leaves crunching beneath his feet.
The chirp of birds, squeals of small animals, and other noises made Luther wonder if he's going further deeper into the forest.
"Curse this forest." Luther muttered, his fist started to follow his frustration. He was squeezing the rabbit's ears, which ended up deforming the thing.
It was then he heard something. A faint gurgle of water. He quickly followed the sound, like his body depended on it. It had been a while since Luther drank anything. Beyond the dense trees ahead was a winding river. Its surface was like shattered glass, reflecting the morning light above.
He knew this river. It was the same one that flowed through the outskirts of Belrac. The people called it the 'Brimworth Stream', since it connected to Brimworth Lake. A different sort of thirst gnawed at him now, a deep, hollow ache in his throat. Luther kept swallowing his own saliva until his mouth was dry. It truly was a pathetic and useless act of self-preservation.
He stumbled to the edge, knelt, and plunged his face into the cold, running water. He simply opened up his jaw and desperately welcomed the water into his mouth, not caring if he'd drown from it. He drank deeply, swallowing in great, desperate gulps until his stomach sloshed.
Luther finally lifted his head before he drowned himself. A desperate gasp was enough to convince him he can still make it until tomorrow. He finally knew the direction to go, the gates of Belrac were around here.
The trees thinned out, revealing the city gates in the morning light, their iron bars gleamed brightly from sunlight. Luther approached the gates. He was a mess of dirt, disheveled hair, and exhaustion. The guards at the gate saw him and looked at him with disdain. One of them, a young man with a tired expression and kind eyes. His hair was the color of straw, and his green eyes were barely visible in the sunlight.
"Name? Business?" The guard, his voice flat.
It was the same voice from last night. Erik.
He looked barely a man, like he had just shed his boyhood, but the heavy bags under his eyes made him seem years older. He was built like a regular man, not a brute, but Luther knew that to go against him would be a futile effort.
Erik's leather armor was a bit worn out, with small patches of chainmail on the shoulders and chest. On his chest was the emblem of Belrac: a bear, its head lowered in a menacing roar. The emblem was simply designed by being stitched in dark thread.
Luther said nothing. He simply raised the rabbit by its ears and gestured back to the forest. "Was hunting."
Erik looked at the rabbit, then back at Luther. The rabbit was stiff, its legs locked in a rigid posture that was anything but fresh. Erik's disdain quickly turned into pity.
He frowned, "I don't think any butcher in the city would take that," he muttered, shaking his head. "Looks like it's already been dead for a while."
Luther simply shrugged and stared at Erik, waiting for him to let Luther pass through.
Erik sighed, a deep, weary sound. "Alright, kid. Get on with it. Don't cause any trouble." He waved his hand dismissively, and Luther walked past him.
"Next!" Erik simply shouted.
Luther made it past, and the roar of a thousand conversations vibrated through the air. The loud chatter of sellers in their stalls, the rhythmic clang of a nearby blacksmith, and the ceaseless grinding of carriage wheels against the cobblestones.
The butcher shop was near the Hollow, somewhere up north from the gate. Houses lined up the surroundings and the people's faces were a stark contrast to the hollow-eyed grimness of the slums. The air in Belrac, though still carrying with the scent of filth, was a clean perfume compared to the stale rot of the Hollow.
Luther's mucky clothes, matted hair, and the dead rabbit dangling from his hand made him a small, dark stain on Belrac's sun-drenched morning. He drew quick glances from the masses, eyes that lingered a little too long before flicking away. It was a mixture of curiosity, confusion, and scorn. A face that immediately asks what a boy of this status was doing here. But Luther had worn the contempt of others for so long it felt like his natural skin.
Aside from the citizens, the city guards paid him no mind. There were walking monuments of apathy. They've seen all colors of misery and indifference – and they were part of the painting.
The butcher was only a few streets away, near the other stalls that sold food. The bakeries nearby smelled of sweet promise. He could've stolen bread there, forget about hunting that damn rabbit, but he has already tried that. A foolish scramble that earned him nothing but a beating from the baker before he escaped.
The guards were on the lookout for him that time, however eventually stopped bothering to catch him. They couldn't rob a small, ragged boy from the slums, and he was too good at melting into the crowds to be worth the trouble.
Luther kept walking, gripping his deformed game, ignoring the bakeries. The cobblestone path ahead gave way to packed dirt roads, where Belrac began its slow, inevitable decline back into the Wretches' Hollow. Massive two-story houses eventually faded and shrank back to squat, crooked shacks. The butcher sat near the periphery of The Hollow.
It was run by a man named Adam. People don't know much about Adam. Most know him as a quiet and massive figure that conducted an unknown business aside from butchery in different corners of the Hollow. He would sometimes make deals, asking for corpses, though never for human meat. Or so what most would say. Adam never sold human meat, after all.
His shop felt less of a market and more of a mortuary. Luther stopped at the door, glancing up at the wooden sign that has 'Open' carved into it. He pushed open the door. A small bell above the frame gave a single, mournful 'tink'.
Adam stood behind the counter, his back faced against the door. He was a mountain of a man with broad shoulders. His sleeves were roughly rolled up and his apron was stained a mix of deep red and brown.
"How may I be of service?" Adam's voice was low, deep, and surly.
Luther didn't move. He simply held up the dead rabbit. "I got game."
Adam slowly turned. His eyes, dark and flat as river stones, fixed on the boy and the stiff carcass. He didn't look surprised, only mildly annoyed.
"It's stiff."
"I know."
Adam stared at him for another moment, then let out a slow, deliberate breath. "And what do you expect me to do with it, boy? I don't pay coin for old meat."
Luther raised the rabbit higher, closer to Adam. "It's stiff, not rotten. Make use of the fur. Bones for broth. Give me a portion of the meat." His words were clipped and flat.
It was a straightforward transaction. He wasn't begging.
Adam's eyes narrowed, considering the offer. The boy in front of him was offering pure profit. He let out a low rumble of reluctant agreement. "Fine. But I take the hide, and the forelegs. That's my cut."
"Okay."
Adam nodded toward a low bench tucked against the wall. "Sit."
Luther set the rabbit onto the scarred wooden block and left to sit down. Adam moved quickly, despite his huge frame. He chose a narrow, sharp-pointed blade and began his work. He made a cut below the rabbit's jaw, then slit the skin down the length of its belly. He dug his fingers under the skin and peeled off the hide, as if removing a tight, damp glove. The skin peeled away in one piece, exposing the muscle underneath.
"Miserable thing you caught." Adam muttered, not looking up. "Must've been sick to let a boy catch it."
"It was dizzy. I hit it with a rock. I ended it with a knife."
"Won't it be easier using snares?"
"Don't got any."
"A rock." Adam repeated, a tiny spark of amusement in his voice. He quickly removed the entrails, tossing them into a bucket beneath the counter. He then snapped the stiff forelegs free from the joints, tossing them onto his portion of the table.
"Where are you from, boy?"
"The Hollow." Luther's eyes followed the knife as it moved to the hindquarters.
"No, before that. You have a family?" Adam asked, carefully separating the remaining carcass into manageable pieces.
"They died."
Adam didn't say much after that. He continued disassembling the pitiful rabbit. Luther's gaze was fixed on the blood pooling on the block. He watched Adam in his craft, hopefully remembering what the steps were and mimicking it for the future. Could be useful the next time he goes hunting.
"I heard you deal with corpses. Find and collect them." Luther bluntly broke the silence.
Adam paused, the heavy cleaver hanging mid-air. He looked at Luther and then threw his head back, letting out a vast, booming laugh.
"You get straight to the point. I like that, boy. The rumours about me are amusing." He brought the cleaver down, separating the spine with a sharp crack. "It's a service besides butchering. Gives me extra coin. Would save the hide on your back if you ask less questions."
Adam wiped his hands on his apron. "I've cut the meat and gotten my share, what're you going to do with yours? You can't cook it stiff like that."
Luther shrugged. "You can cook it. I'll take whatever you can make."
Adam stared at him blanky. "You want me to fire up the stove for a tough, small rabbit?"
"It'll fill my belly." Luther stated. He didn't care if the meat was rough or dry. He just needed substance.
Adam sighed again, a sound that conveyed all the annoyance of a man who suddenly found himself a caretaker. "What's your name, boy?"
"Luther."
Adam nodded. "It's not going to be pretty, but it'll be hot."
In the back, Adam placed a big iron pot over a low flame. It took about an hour to get it done. Luther sat on the bench and watched the steam rise. The aroma shifted from the scent of iron to something more appetizing. Adam eventually came back with a heavy ceramic bowl. He had generously added thick pieces of potato and carrot from a different pot to the roughly chopped and boiled rabbit meat.
Adam placed the bowl in Luther's hands. "Eat. While it's hot."
Luther didn't give nor feel any gratitude, only relief. He didn't bother with a spoon. He used his fingers, tearing off chunks of the steaming, stiff rabbit meat. The burn on his fingertips from the warm broth felt more comforting than painful. The taste was simple. Just salt, rabbit, and vegetables. It was the best thing he had tasted in days.