Zeke leaves the hustle and bustle of the city in his wake, pacing his way along narrow dirt pathways. In the outskirts of Ysom, high rising developments and neon lights are replaced with chaotically placed homes, cozy enough for a small family or two.
The bright coloured buildings take on a dimmer shade with an early moon providing the only light until those in the street are turned on. Long shadows hide any crooks and crevices on the paths, leaving Zeke to step a little more warily than usual.
He munches away the final bite of his mecca bar as he rounds the final corner, filling the grumble caused by the smell of fresh cooked meats a few houses back. Just before entering the arched doorway of his mother’s house, he stuffs the wrapper in his pocket, along with the rest of the money he earned that day.
“Mama, I’m home!” he calls out projecting his voice towards the kitchen in the back.
His feet sink into the vibrant carpet upon entry of the small, well-lit room. A slow smile releases an ache that is only cured with the comfort of one’s home.
Once inside he flicks at the heel of one of his shoes and kicks it away, then works away at the second leaving behind a gathering of dust near the doorway. He continues on past the mismatched furniture, all as brightly coloured as the door he passed into.
"Zeke?" he hears faintly from the back accompanied with a variety of clanking sounds. Choosing to ignore it he drops the paper bag onto the coffee table. Its contents spread across its bright orange surface.
A soft smile curls at his lips as he spots the lump of grey fur to the side of the room, resting in its usual place on the sofa.
"You still there are ya Dexi?" He says, nudging at its paws to make space.
A long ear flickers in response, but not much else. Zeke expects as much and his grin grows as he manoeuvres onto the edge, burying his head into thick Tufts of its fur.
"Lazy Grooch."
The warmth of the room eases Zeke's eyes softly closed. A warm flowery scent tickles at his nostrils. He sinks deeper into slumber. For the briefest of moments an image surfaces within his mind's eye.
Instantly, it’s dragged straight back out.
His entire weight is heaved up from the sofa, viced in thin arms. The grip holds tight, pulling the boy in tighter and tighter. His feet raise off the ground. His right eye squeezes closed by his mother's soft cheeks. Zeke holds a jolly smile despite being woke from his rest as he tries to glance over his shoulder where his mother's chin rests.
Dexi doesn't move.
"There's my little hunter," she mumbles with a jolly tune.
His heart would calm, but instead it’s thrown back into flux. The viced grip around his chest loosens. His feet drop to the ground instantly. A sense of falling backwards takes over him.
He readjusts his footing, and throws his weight around.
A fist is held at the pit of his stomach. Before he can trigger his power his eyes glance upon the woman. She stumbles slightly, but seems to have steadied herself.
"Mama, the med said not to do anything too hard." He reaches a filthy palm forwards to help his mother back onto her feet, and back to her height over an extra third on his.
Once composed Zeke's mother runs a hand through his thick, tangled hair. "I couldn’t help myself. You’re like a cuddly little teddy." She leans down, kissing him softly upon his dirt layered forehead and turns back towards the kitchen.
"Dinner's almost ready. Get washed up then we can eat." Her voice carries away.
He throws himself back down onto the sofa, leaving Dexi to grumble at her disturbance for the first time since his arrival.
His eyelids grow heavy. Images of the day's events flood his mind; the walk through the forest, and the tracking of the crawler. Thoughts begin to form of a warm suns blanket shrouding him as he lies in the grass.
"Ezikiel, wash and eat. Let's go!” A clap accompanies mother’s sharp tone. Naturally Zeke jumps into action, as though a trained flophopper.
It doesn’t take long for Zeke to wash, throwing his grotty clothing into a pile on the floor. Once changed into something looser and more comfortable, he joins his mother for the evening’s meal.
The first few mouthfuls of the oversized portion barely touch the sides. The thick broth is slurped up providing a splattering of orange at the corners of his mouth. After a few large spoons his pace slows. His stomach grows thankful for the extra space below his baggy shirt.
He takes to pushing the meat around the bowl, now half filled with broth. His posture slumps back into his chair, leaving his mind to wander.
Further around the circular table, the opposing direction of where his mother slowly works away at a much smaller portion, is a third unoccupied chair. The chair where his father would have sat every evening.
Zeke wanders what role he could be taking on this evening. Whether he’ll be on towers replacing worn out orbs, in the factory shifting through out-dated tech or at the institute marking his students’ papers, he doesn’t know. For him, all the empty chair offers is a dull ache within his chest.
An audible cough interrupts the lingering silence occupied only by the reporter on the holographic screen across the room and the workings of a single spoon. Zeke’s attention is brought back to his mother whose narrow glance is enough to curdle the milk of a ploughback. He raises the sauce covered corners of his mouth and ducks his head to attempt another spoonful.
Looking for approval, he peeps up from his bowl. He takes in her thinning hair and the dark rings circling her eyes. The thin layer of makeup she applies each day is subtle, though isn’t enough to completely mask the hollowness which she struggles to overcome.
She raises an eyebrow, refusing to offer her son an escape. “You’ve had a busy day honey. Eat up.”
Zeke battles the bloating of his stomach, wishing to avoid another bite. He contemplates the idea of slowly lowering the bowl to the floor, where Dexi mouths up her portion of the meal, but can't figure the best way to do it discretely. For now he'd need to bide his time.
He scoops up another chunk of meat and begins chewing. Maybe if the pieces were smaller, he’d manage them easier. His next thoughts turn to cutting the meat with the side of his spoon.
“You’ve been eating sweets again haven’t you? I told you time again, not until after dinner.”
His concentration improves tenfolds at the annoyance in his mother's tone. He ceases the cutting and forces down another three mouthfuls. "I never. It was... Moggy. She told me to eat before I left."
He looks again for approval. This time he’s met with a smile so delicate it could calm a level three crawler. A sparkle twinkles at the corner of her eye, reflecting the adoration of one whose being is more beautiful than anything in the whole of Evantia.
A feeling of relief takes over both he and his stomach. He senses even another bite would make him explode.
"You always were a terrible liar." His mother pours fresh juice into both of their mismatched glasses.
Zeke returns to picking at his plate, feeling a wave of heat from a small flux of the crackling fireplace. The news reporter speaks of the gang wars in Centuria, just off the capital of Evantia.
He wants to watch, to see the nalites which have been weaponised around the capital, but fears it would upset his mother. She told him that it was rude to leave the dinner table before everyone had finished eating. ‘Good manners’ she called it. A term Zeke associates with boring tasks.
He needs to go back to plan a: feeding the grooch.
“How was your hunt today?”
“Was okay.” Zeke squints at the small holo-screen at the other side of the room hoping to clear the image too far away to completely make out. “The level ones are getting easier. I think I can read most of their attacks now.”
"You shouldn't think like that. They're dangerous." Her tone is stern yet wavers.
Zeke replies almost instinctively. He'd heard it all before. This same conversation time and time again. "It's okay. I'm fine mama."
"They are called nalite's for a reason you know. Spawns of those vile creatures."
The way in which she speaks of the Nalas is enough to bring Zeke’s full attention back to the table. He knows her game; a subtle attempt to doubt himself and return to the academy. Yet for Zeke, all she’s doing is belittling both himself and her own ancestors.
"It would be alright if they were Myatra wouldn’t it?”
For as long as man had walked Evantia, the nalas had held a vile signature on the world. In the old scripts they attempted to destroy both man and Myatra, to gain power over all. In more recent times, their dna links with that of the Nalites, offering the beasts their name. All that echoes through time is bad tidings related to the nalas.
Though people often forget those who helped man, that offered themselves to forge a new path into more present times. Those who share a world with man and Myatra, who’d gave up the purity of their own race as an offering of peace.
Nalas could be good too.
"Always quick to defend them. You know your grandma was the same way..."
"At least grandma fought..."
"Just like you she started to underestimate them. The next thing you know she's being buried out in the outskirts."
"Protecting you!"
"Besides, your father has found another part time job over at the cafeteria. I know I know, it could effect his lecturing at the institute, but it means you could go back to the academy and learn to hunt properly."
His heart starts beating faster as her words sink in. It’s an old argument but it causes uncontrollable anger to rush through his being. He stands up and slams his fists on the table knocking over his bowl. His mother finishes.
Silence hangs, interrupted only by the slurping of a long tongue at spilled broth.
"Papa works hard already. I can't stop mama. I have to do this."
His pounding heart causes breaks in his words. A coldness takes over, and before he knows it the knot in his throat works its way up welling his eyes with tears.
His mother lowers her chin to her chest. She moves from her seat around the table and wraps her arms as far around him as possible, leaving his young tears to hide upon her shoulder.
"I know. I know. I just don't want you to get hurt," She says in a calming tone with her head resting upon his scruffy crown.
"I never see him anymore." A calming safety comes from the warmth of her arms. "it's been almost two weeks."
His mother holds him tighter. Her eyes shift from surface to surface. "I know, I know." Inspiration struggles to find her.
She lets go and lowers to his level. "I promise I'll work hard to get better. Then you can stop hunting, and your father can stop all of his extra jobs." She wipes away at his gathering tears with her thumb. "Then we'll go to Asumia, maybe even Evantia. Get away for a while."
Zeke’s posture slumps though he sports a smile. He runs the sleeve of his shirt against the other eye to dry it. With his head bowed they return to the table to finish up. Shortly after Zeke is excused to his room where he can finally get the rest he needs.
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