Chapter 3

Hope

Back in my other life, I’d had a favourite movie growing up. It was about a girl who loved to read in a town that thought it was silly. The film started with her walking through a marketplace. Full of people, smells and noises.

That’s what my life was like now, except it was art that filled my heart and the market I stepped into was a dull affair where the only noises were those of people fighting over some tiny scrap of food or something.

There was no art here, no beauty. Only violence. The air literally stank of it.

Violence and despair.

It perfumed the air and was etched on the faces of those that hurried past me. No one really looked at me, and there were definitely no cheery hellos.

I seriously doubted one person here had ever lifted their voice in song.

Sighing, I hunched my shoulders. I missed music almost as much as I missed colour but that was part of my old life. The one I had lived before that stupid watch had sent me twisting and turning through the centuries to plop me here.

“Is there-“ Stopping at a stained table that was almost empty but still sagged in the middle I stared at what was left and my stomach rumbled in dismay. The scant amount of fruit and vegetables on it were so mouldy that they weren’t edible. “Anything left?”

Dull brown eyes met mine for a second before settling themselves on something on the other side of the street. “Should of got here earlier, Hope.” He sneered.

I knew that. Even when I had left Franc and hurried into the settlement with its crumbling skyscrapers over run with full blown and grey plant life I had known it was going to be a struggle to find anything left.

“I know. I was busy.” Busy having nightmares about a life that used to be mine, I added silently. “Thanks anyway.” Glancing behind me I frowned. “I’ll try down the way.”

“Go home Hope. People are on edge today.” The man said in a gruff voice , his eyes locked on yet another fight that had broken out. “There’s more fights than usual and you might not be safe.”

The corners of my mouth twitched. “It’s sweet that you care but I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t care but Franc will hurt me if you get all marked up in the face today. Go home. One day of not eating won’t kill you and anyway,” his eyes crinkled. “You might get chosen as a companion and then you will be able to feast like a queen.”

“Never wanted to be a queen.” With a shrug and a small wave of my hand I moved on. Glancing every which way at the empty tables and mats.

No food anywhere, not even a crust of bread. Again my stomach rumbled loudly. A few sips of ale weren’t enough to ease the hunger but he had been right. One day without food wouldn’t kill me off. I’d gone through more than that last winter when the snow had filled the roads and made coming into the settlement impossible.

I’d survive.

Had to , I really didn’t have a choice.

I was just about to turn around and head home when something caught my eyes. Something black and smooth that didn’t seem to belong on the sack it was spread out on.

Black plastic and in it, tiny little disks of muted colour. My footsteps faltered as I stared at it. Paints. The kind I had as a child but still paints. They didn’t belong here. They didn’t, because this world was dull and lifeless and they spoke of a happier time.

My heart lurched, and before I knew what I was doing I was walking over to it. Crouching down on my too small boots I reached for it. Skimming my fingers across it.

“Don’t touch it, it’s precious .” The woman sat on the other side of the sack snarled at me. Snatching it out from under my fingers. “You can’t afford it.”

Sighing heavily I stood. I knew I couldn’t afford it. No one here could. We were all scrambling to just survive and in a world this brutal, there was no need for something so frivolous as paint. Even a cheap, child’s set.

“I know. Do you have any-“

“What is it?” A deep voice spoke from my shoulder, gravelly and deep. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as warm breath brushed against me.

“A relic from the days before the war commander.” The woman, grime coating her face. “A priceless treasure.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “It’s called paint.” I added before I could help myself.

“Paint.” An arm snaked out from behind me. Muscled forearm clean from any dirt. “What is paint?” He flicked the small rectangle into his fingers.

“It’s used for painting.” I couldn’t keep my eyes from his short clean fingernails. Clean. No one else here had clean anything. And he smelt nice as well.

Commander.

That’s what she had said. The man behind me was a commander. No wonder he smelt so good, he clearly bathed more than once a month in a river. Bitterness rose up in my throat.

“Painting?”

Scooting to the side, I turned to him. Trying to keep my eyes down at my feet but glancing at his face from beneath my lashes.

Tall, so very very tall and clearly well fed because he had actual colour in his tanned face.

Handsome… at least I thought he was. It was hard to tell with the black cloth wrapped around the bottom of his face. His eyes were striking anyway. A deep bright blue.

Those eyes narrowed as he caught me staring and I quickly lowered my eyes to my boots.

“They used to use paint to make art in the old days.” I mumbled. “Beautiful things.”

He didn’t look away and I didn’t look up. I couldn’t.

“I’ll take it.” There was a flash as he tossed a coin in the older woman’s direction and then without another word he stalked away. The little discs of paint in his hand.

All the time I had been here and I hadn’t seen anything so clearly from my old life and he had just gone and snatched it up before I could even try and haggle for it.

Haggle for it? We wouldn’t afford to eat let alone buy paint. I would never have walked away from this stall with it in my possession.

“Who is he?” Turning I watched as his wide back disappeared around the corner.

“One of the commanders.”

I knew that. “But they don’t usually come out here. Not where we live anyway. Don’t they all live on the hill?”

She shrugged. “That’s  Commander Lincoln. He’s new.” She lowered her voice. “He will be taking a companion for the first time this year. Hope, try and stay out of his way. You don’t want him to choose you.” Slowly she lifted her eyes to meet mine and I saw pity there. “He’s meant to be the worst of them.”