Kip

         Kip snuck along the wall straining to hear the sounds of discovery. Silence was the key, if only Kip’s stomach would agree. Growls and gurgles split the night air, the rumblings and hunger pangs refusing to be ignored. Worse more was Kip’s family; a father in the grave, a mother worked to skin and bone, starving herself to feed her children, and two younger siblings whose hollow cheeks and bellies were a painful sight to behold. Sickness was hard to fight off when you couldn’t feed yourself.

         At the tender age of fourteen Kip decided it was time to act. No more would they be at the mercy of others, for there was no mercy to be found.  Guilt confronted Kip at every opportunity, to steal or not to steal…the real questions however always became clear. Does my family eat tonight or do we suffer another sleepless night? Can I bear to see the look in my mother’s eyes as she goes without again? Will we make it through the night?

         Hunger always won out. Carefully chosen targets kept the guilt from weighing too heavily upon Kip’s shoulders, only taking from those who could easily spare the food. This however always involved a much higher element of risk. The wealthy had plenty to spare, and plenty of spare eyes watching.

         Angling a foot in a crevice of the pitted wall Kip scaled the rocky barrier in a trice. Hitching a leg over the top the young thief paused to survey the other side. A sharp jerk on the ankle sent the youth crashing down into the grounds below.

         “Grab him! Don’t let him get away!” Gruff tones ordered.

         “E’s not goin’ nowhere Shamus.” A sniveling voice replied. A cuff to Kip’s head stilled the mutinous thrashing and cursing directed at the guards.

         “What do we do wit ‘im?”

         “His Lordship said that if we found the thief he was to be flogged.”

         “Ah but e’s jus a lil’ bloke nuthin’ but skin an' bones e’ won’t last a proper floggin’.” The sniveling guard held up his petite squirming captive by the collar as if to emphasize his point. The teen struggled to keep a ragged cap on rather than pulling at the choking collar.

         “It would look poorly if my Lord were known to have flogged a child to death…yes…that wouldn’t do at all.”

         “How about you just let me go then” Kip piped up. “I won’t say a word; you’ll never see me again!”

         “Quiet you!” ‘snivelly’ roared with another smarting cuff.

         A wicked grin crept across the gruff man’s face. “Perhaps we can get a little sport out of you after all.”

         Kip did not like the menacing tone of Shamus’s voice.

         “No a flogging will not do but it cannot be helped if a thief has a run in with the Lord’s dogs. They are here for his protection after all.”

         A gasp issued from the little burglar's mouth. Kicking the shin of ‘snivelly’ Kip attempted to scramble back up the wall. “Help! Hel-“

         Shamus’s vice-like grip settled once more on the trespasser's ankle as he dragged his struggling captive by the boot down the grassy slope. Hauling the boy up to his face Shamus hissed in his ear. “If you don’t shut your mouth I will slit your throat myself!”

         Kip went limp with fear as Shamus propelled the group towards the back of the great stone house. A malicious snarling sound could be heard the closer they approached. Tall stone arches framed in a dirt packed courtyard where two of the most vicious looking mongrels Kip had ever seen were fighting over bones.

         “Ah Shamus who’s the lil’ runt you got there?” another guard called in greeting. Several armed men sat about the yard drinking ale and smoking pipes. The bored guards began to stir and stared at the odd little group entering their midst.

         “Just a little fun gents” Shamus said enthusiastically. The guards hard eyes gleamed in the torchlight with the thought of entertainment. Shamus’s grin was positively evil.

         Snivelly poked Kip in the ribs “Not sure e’ll last long though.” Shamus looked at the boy in distaste before tossing him roughly in the dirt. “Mayhaps we even the odds a bit…give the lad a sportin’ chance?”

         Shamus eyed the slobbering dogs straining at their leads. They snapped and snarled at the fresh young victim only feet away. “I suppose it won’t be much of a fight if we don’t.” He sighed before pulling out his boot knife and tossing it in the dirt at Kip’s feet. Jeering guards gathered round tossing bets this way and that, the noise rising in pitch as the slight figure tugged down his cap and stooped to pick up the knife.

         Kip's pulse began to race as a leering guard untethered the dogs. This little knife certainly didn’t feel like much protection. A silence seemed to descend as the dogs began to circle. Drool fell in ropes from the mongrels sharp teeth and Kip shuddered at the thought of those fangs coming near.

         Two sets of hackles rose; Kip could tell an attack was coming soon. Angling back against the wall was the only hope of survival against two enemies. Planting a foot on the wall, Kip dug the other into the dirt steeling for impact. The seconds ticked by as if an eternity came and went.

         The mangy red dog lunged first, jaws snapping on air and claws connecting solidly with tender flesh. The knife came plummeting down and sunk into the dog's shoulder sending it yelping backwards. Bloodied knife in hand Kip turned just in time to have the grey dog latch its teeth around a wrist.

         Screaming in pain the blade plunged downward again and again. The dog’s shaggy form sagged to the ground as its wounded companion knocked the injured combatant over. Kip's only defense, the small crimson knife, went sailing across the dirt, far out of reach. Jagged claws raked the slender form viciously, the only thing preventing the dog's teeth from taking hold were the bloody fingers wrapped around its neck.

         Wounded and desperate Kip squeezed the mongrel’s throat with every last ounce of strength, screeching in agony from the pressure. Shoving a boot into the dog’s stomach the creature went sailing across the yard, landing in front of a pair of shiny black leather boots.

         “What in Blazes is going on here!” an angry voice boomed around the yard. The injured dog did not move from its master’s feet. The powerful voice once again demanded an answer. None was forth coming, the silence almost as deafening as the previous jeering.

         Kip’s vision swam and pain almost overcame the young thief. The shiny black boots drew nearer, their heavy footfalls indicating extreme rage. Expecting a violent end Kip attempted to curl up but could only moan in agony. Strong arms cradled the bloody form of Kip from the yard.

****

         Looking down at his charge the Lord’s rage filled him once again. The near starved girl lay unconscious, swathed in blood soaked bandages. He looked at the remains of her tattered clothes and the shredded cap she had so desperately tried to keep on.

         Lord de Braes could feel the small cracks in his heart widen as he stared. She looked so much like his late daughter. Rebekah... There would be a reckoning of staggering proportions.

         Kip’s green eyes fluttered open and landed on the tense form of the Lord beside her. Her bruised hand flew to the absent cap normally on her head. Where is it! The girl went rigid with terror, moaning as her muscles protested.

         “Why?”

         The shredded remains of her cap were tossed in her lap. She looked at the Lord in fear. “Why?” he asked again. “Why did you pretend to be a boy? You almost lost your life because of it!”

         Kip stared at the Lord in disbelief. “You saw what they did to me as a boy. What do you think would have happened if they found a girl climbing over the wall?” she said quietly. The Lord paled at the ramifications of her disguise. “I truly am sorry for stealing from you. I…I had no other choice. My family is starving.” She pleaded. Misty green eyes locked with soft brown eyes.

****

         “Kip!” her sister wailed as little arms wrapped about her waist. The little girl’s brow puckered as she took in her older sister’s battered state.  She stared suspiciously at the well-dressed man behind her.

         “Kira!” her mother’s broken voice cried out as only a mother’s can do. The skeletal woman’s thin arms hugged her fiercely.  “Kira What happ-” Kip stopped her mother as she wept at the sight of her injured daughter.

         "A moment Mother, this is Lord de Braes.” She motioned to the man behind her, her mother’s eyes widened in alarm. “I think you should talk with him.” Stepping aside the tired thief let de Braes console her anxious mother.

         Kip could feel a change in the air, one for the good. She stared at her mother’s face as de Braes offered her mother a position in his keep. Wrongs were being rectified just as he promised. Lord de Braes was the key and for once her stomach agreed.