Renegade Heart Read Free Page B

writing would make him a ride a horse or fight any better. And, he bet the renegades did not offer up prayers of thanks to a god who, as far as Wolf could tell, had never done anything for anybody. Valistra had tried telling him once, that it was God who had put Enola in his life, but Wolf did not believe her. Enola was the one who looked out for him, gave him extra food from her own plate and hugged him when he was hurting after a thrashing. Enola not God.
    He found a suitable hiding place, from where he could watch the gates, and spent the day waiting for his chance to hide in one of the wagons leaving the city. As bad luck would have it there were no wagons going out that day at all. The word on the streets was that the renegades had attacked one of the King’s treasury wagons and two of his trusted aides had been killed as well as several troopers. The merchants were staying within the safety of the city walls while the King’s Army scoured the area in search of the renegades responsible.
    Finally, as dusk fell, Wolf gave up hope and went in search of a place to sleep. Under King’s Law, all children within the city were subject to a curfew. He knew he must find a hiding place before dark or risk being spotted by a Watchman and dragged back to the orphanage. He found another dank, uninviting alley and crawled beneath an empty wooden crate, which at least provided some meagre shelter from the cold wind. Disappointed that his escape from the city was not proving as easy as he had planned, he curled himself into a ball and tried to ignore the feelings of loneliness and hunger that tempted him to return to the orphanage.
    Besides the hunger, he was aware of another pain that at first, he did not recognise. He missed Enola. Although he had only run away the day before, it felt strange to go so long without seeing her. He missed going to sleep with the sound of her breathing softly next to him, and he missed the smile that lit her face every time he walked into a room.
    The following day, he fared no better, and after a third miserable night in an alleyway with only the rats for company, Wolf rose at first light and set off once again for the city gates. His stomach rumbled noisily as he walked and he looked longingly at the well-stocked stalls as he passed through the market place.
    Keeping a close lookout for Watchmen, Wolf edged closer to a colourful display of succulent fruit, his mouth watering at the sight of the juicy red apples laid out before him. It was early yet, and there were few customers around. Conveniently, the stall holder was deep in conversation with his neighbour. Nobody noticed the small boy tentatively approach the stall, his eyes fixed firmly on the mound of apples.
    Once again, fate conspired to thwart Wolf in his efforts. Just as he lifted a shiny red apple from the stall, the owner turned around, his gaze switching from the boy to the stolen fruit in his hand. With the beating that almost killed him uppermost in his mind, Wolf turned and fled, dropping the apple as he ran.
    The trader gave chase, staying hot on his heels for four long streets before the man realised the stupidity of leaving his stall unattended for the sake of a single apple that had been dropped way back. Even so, Wolf kept running, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the trader had turned back. It was a mistake that proved to be his undoing. He ran blindly into something large and solid and ended up sat on the ground, the breath knocked from his body. He stared up at the immoveable object and the Watchman stared steadily back.
    “Should you be out this early, boy?”
    Shakily, Wolf got to his feet and dusted off his already filthy clothing. “I’m running an errand. Sir,” he said boldly.
    The Watchman cocked his head to one side and eyed the boy doubtfully. “Show me the coin or the message you carry.”
    “It’s a message, Sir. It’s just in my head, Sir.”
    “Is that so? Then tell it to me.” The Watchman waited,