The Little Lights.

A tale of territory, kidnapping, conspiracy and a race to find the light.

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2. Colette

 

After I had dried every inch of my dirty, sandy blonde hair of the murky sea water, I walked along the very edge of the port wall; carefully placing one bare foot in front of the other as I carried my findings over my shoulder in a small cotton bag. The sun was starting to shine and it was beginning to dry my thin t-shirt and shorts. The grey material began to loosen its grip on my skin as it dried, and a familiar salty breeze filled my hair with the smells of the port.

As I reached my boat I took a deep breath in through my nose and grinned from ear to ear. The smell of wood-smoke and a pan of soup on the boil was just what I needed after a disappointing haul. I clambered aboard and dropped my bag on top of a mass of tangled fishing nets before swinging below deck and wandering over to the kitchen. “Back already Oriel?” my sister asked from the stove, her thick French accent caressing every syllable. I nodded silently and sat down at the small wooden table to watch her cook.

I loved watching Colette cook. Her pale skin seemed to shine against the darkness of the cabin. It was obvious that she wasn’t my biological sister. Even if you didn’t hear us speak in such different accents; her sleek head of silky brown locks and piercing blue eyes were so beautifully different from my own complexion it became obvious. “Are you hungry?” she asked, turning to face me and allowing her long mossy green skirt to fan out around her. “Yes please!” I eagerly replied before stuffing the bread she handed me into my mouth. “We’ll have lunch first then” she continued, sitting next to me and lifting a spoonful of thick soup to her dainty lips “and then you will tell me what you know about the other scavengers people have been seeing.”

 

“So you’ve heard about them too?” I asked Colette after finishing my last mouthful of soup. She nodded and picked up my bowl and began to fill a basin with water from a vast pale in the corner of the cabin. “What do you know Cole?” I asked her, jumping up to help her wash up. “Well rumour has it that they aren’t your everyday urchins.” She replied quietly, running her thin fingers along the bowls before plunging them into the water. “Apparently he’s back Oriel.” She announced after a pause. I stared at her in silence.
“You mean Renard?” I asked her quietly, watching her knuckles whiten as she heard his name. “How could he be scavenging here?” I asked her, following her out of the cabin and onto deck. “He isn’t Oriel. But his followers are.” She muttered, looking around before picking up my cotton bag and scuttling back into her own quarters. “You mean he’s still looking?” I asked in vain as Colette shut the door between us in silence. “Colette! I need to know!” I called through the door. But no answers came. Only the sound of silence.

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