Sleep troubled Gus as guilt wrung inside him for loosing his gift. Stirred, the loud grouse from a bird woke him for the last countless time. A sun, low and fresh, hung itself between two neighbouring rooftops.
Gus crept into his clothes and out of his home. He must get it back; find it. Searching without luck through the alleyways, it took him until mid-day to garner the courage to walk out from the city walls of Divinity’s Reach to pursue further.
Taking short, quick steps, without letting fears be chief of his thoughts, Gus heard snorts of laughter just as he came to round a cornered wall of a farmer’s home. Here he found Bully stuffing pies, sat with his oafs atop a straw roof looking down on a hen pen.
“Pus, you skinny wretch,” belched Bully.
“Give it back!” Gus blurted as a stone, thrown at him from above, bounced from the ground and struck his leg.
Bully was retrieving stones from the depths of his pockets and threw them casually towards Gus, who panicked. One hit him hard on the forehead. Whiteness flashed at the edges of his vision, stunning him. Then came a thud as an elbow hit him in the spine, buckling him over towards the ground. Dirt scraped upwards into his nails as hands went out to catch the fall. Gus breathed deep fearful lungs of dust, coughed violently, and took a mouthful of earth as Bully pushed a fat club into the back of his head.
Rolling to one side and reaching blindingly upwards, Gus scrambled. Only to come standing right in front of Bully and his boys.
Making a snap turn, Gus felt a snatch at his arm and saw a pie tumble to the ground.
“Ulg! Burnt kitten arm!” Bully spat disgustedly before letting go in painful reaction to being kicked in the shin.
Gus ran with dread enfeebling his lungs and quivering his legs, he about managed to climb the fence to a vegetable field before he was sharply caught by a rock, which cut into the back of his leg. Red blotted through his clothing and Gus fell.
Hands and arms pinned him onto his back. A spray of a watering contraption centred in the field, soaked over him, replacing the dry haze of dirt with the new blurriness of watery eyes.
Gasping, Bully eventually came looming over him. Gus was too late to hold a breath before Bully had the watering contraption forced over him.
“Keep him down,” Bully snarled.
Water flooded Gus’ every senses. Limbs disappeared. Time intensified.
“Pus, Pus, Pus!” Glorified Bully, but his words weren’t heard by anyone but himself as his oafs retreated nervously. One hurriedly left Bully, the other cried ‘stop’.
“Shut it Del,” said Bully in reply.
Unrestrained, Gus flung out a hand from the jet that engulfed him – a gust of force took Bully upwards, flinging him yards across the field. Del stumbled also, meeting the ground with his backside. The watering contraption sprung back into its rotating routine.
Gus breathed deeply as Bully rose bewildered, making towards Gus.
“No!” Bellowed Gus, his arm juddering outwards to carry another wind-filled blast that pushed into Bully, taking his feet from under him once more. A fizzle of sparks sputtered between Gus’ fingers.
Bully looked about him and found himself alone with this newly different, strange boy. He ran as fast as his fat legs could carry him, as Gus sat in awe under the occasional spray of the waterer, eyeing his hands.
A lengthy shadow spread over Gus and he looked up to find a woman standing. A pistol sat within a holster at her waist.
“Boy,” said the woman, “drink this.” She handed a flask to him from which Gus took a sip. Liquid dripped down his chin. It tasted of barely anything at all.
“Why’d ya confront them like you did?” She questioned.
Gus looked up at her, startled at the realisation of what she’d said. When he didn’t answer her, she asked for his name.
“Gus,” said the young boy, and there was a quiet moment between them both.
The woman gave a gentle laugh through smiling lips, “Perhaps we should be calling you Gust from now on.” She pulled out a hand to retrieve her flask but Gus reached out to pull himself up instead, which she appreciated, softly laughing once more.
“Will you come with me Gust. I know a particular…elementalist you should see.”
With strength and wonderment, Gus brushed himself down, taking a swig from the flask before handing it back.
…
Reminded of thirst, he reached for a flask at his side and took a swig, before reading the ticket aloud:
“ ‘Took I a long time to get made. Last thing to be right. – Deldo.’ ”
He tore gently into the package to reveal a red garment. Holding it out in length, his grin returned to him broader than ever, as stitched in white lettering was the word ‘Gust’.
Stretching out his arm, Gus Windbourne wrapped the gift around and secured it.
