Twisting the Hand of Fate

                  The reflection of warm firelight dances off the cold puddles of rainwater. Gita walks slowly, her leather boots cold and damp from walking in the rain. The moist chill nips at her fingers and toes, creeping through any missed opportunities her warm winter clothes failed to cover. But Gita doesn’t mind. She has grown accustomed and resilient to the discomforts of life. If the rain and cold were her greatest sources of pain, she would live a rather relaxed and passive life. The cold was a temporary form of discomfort, a pain that would at least go away within the warmth of her home. As uncomfortable as it was, she was grateful for a pain that she could remedy through her own efforts. It was something she could control.

                  Other pains were much greater, and far more difficult to remedy. Her lot in life, the cards fate had dealt her. However, someone in better circumstances wanted to define it for her. She was living a life she wanted to escape. She had become quite skilled at pushing the pain aside. Bottle it up. She hoped someday she would be in a better place, a more relaxed place in her life where she could then carefully open that bottle, and slowly disperse of the pain little by little with the dream of regaining her sense of wonderment she had for the world when she was a child. The hope to smile once again.

                  It was amazing how one simple bottle could hold so much pain, her turbulent upbringing, the supposed friends that ended up treating her worse than an enemy. If she knew they would treat her like an enemy, she could have at least protected herself from them. But it was all bottled up in the past. A bottle stashed far in the back of her mind with plenty more bottles lined up before it in chronological priority. It made no sense to deal with her past when she was still struggling to manage her present.

                  The frustrations of life far surpassed the simple lack of means to afford the basic necessities. Gita knew in her heart she was going to make something of herself. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was meant for something more than working basic jobs, just to earn enough money, just to stay alive, just to work enough to earn money to stay alive. Gita knew her life was meant for bigger things than just existing. But who could she really trust? There was a time in her life when she thought others were looking out for her. But every time she was wrong. She vowed to always be the one in control. Never let others chose your destiny for you. But overcoming her upbringing and her lack of opportunities would take more than the desire to do so.

                  She wasn’t naturally gifted with a talent; she wasn’t particularly athletic or excelled at fighting. Her greatest assets were kindness, empathy, and resiliency. Only one of which was useful in surviving where she lived. Gita couldn’t afford the nicer places around Hallador. She always wondered what it would feel like being able to walk the streets and take in the sights, sounds and smells without being worried about who might be watching, or what lies around the corner. She has learned to carry nothing valuable with her if possible. Even then, her own well-being seemed to be a value others would take if she did not prepare to defend herself.

                  Though cold and wet, Gita liked to step in the puddles to break apart the reflections of the firelight. In her mind, if she could step on enough of them, she could somehow collect the light, and use it to fuel the hope that her dreams would somehow become more than just dreams. So focused on her daydreams and imagination, she didn’t even notice the group of men walking on the other side of the street.

                  Their uptick in chatter caught the attention of Gita. She had been in situations like this plenty of times before. Just ignore them and keep walking, that was the rule. Several of the men called out to her, as groups of inebriated men usually do. She followed her rule, ignored them, and kept walking. She tightened the straps of her backpack and began walking faster. As usual, the group of drunkards called out to her in various forms of misogyny, but it was all talk. But then one man broke from his group of friends and continued to follow her. Gita noticed the change in behavior but didn’t acknowledge it. It was not a good sign. She took a deep breath and increased her pace. The man increased his pace. Gita crossed the street. The man followed.

                  “Hey” the man called out.

                  Gita ignored him and kept walking.

                  “Hey! Hey!”

                  Gita ignored him and kept walking.

                  “Hey, I’m jus talkin to you, imma a nice guy, slow down, I jus wanna talk!” the man said shouting ineloquently.

                  “I’m not talking or slowing,” Gita called out as she kept walking away.

                  The man lowered his eyebrows, and with a stumbling jog he caught up to Gita grabbing her by the shoulder. “Hey! Imma nice guy, the lease you can do for me is..”

                  Gita pulled away, slapping the man’s hand, turning to face him. “I don’t owe you anything! Look, I’m only carrying food, I don’t have any money on me, I spent it all on my food for this week. I’m hungry, and I will fight you to avoid starvation.”

                  “Whoah, whoah, whoah, little lady,” the man said, looking Gita up and down. Her long blonde hair did not help her blend into the local scene of ruffians and drunkards. “Look, I jus wanna talk. Is that so bad? I’m not a dangerous man. I jus wanna talk.” The man kept repeating, stepping closer and closer to Gita, running the back of his hand down her long blonde hair. Gita was breathing heavily, gritting her teeth.

                  “Don’t touch me!” Gita said.

                  “Relax, what’s so wrong with touching?” the man said, rationalizing his actions.

                  “Because I don’t want you to.” Gita gave the man a hefty push with both her arms against his shoulders. She was not a large woman. She was not strong. But she was resilient, and nobody else would make choices for her. She was the one in control.

                  The man stumbled back, then caught himself furrowing his eyebrows. “I was comin to help you; I was gonna protect you! Imma help you. A girl like you, walking alone in this part of town. You needs a body guard.” The man said, cracking his knuckles. “So, you might wanna listen to what I have to say. Girl.”

                  “Leave me alone, or I’ll, I’ll…” Gita knew she couldn’t take the man in a hand-to-hand combat. But she had to stand up for herself at any cost. She was not about to let someone else decide her destiny.

                  “You’re gonna do what?” the man said with a shrug. “What are you gonna do?” the man looked around and shrugged. “there’s nobody here, jus you and me. What’s anybody gonna do about it?”

                  “I have friends.” Gita said. Her lips twitched as she stepped backwards away from him.

                  The man stepped in closer. Gita stepped back. The man stepped in closer. He snorted a laugh. “Looks like I’m the only friend you got here.”

                  “I’m not so sure about that,” a deep voice bellowed. Emerging ever so silently, a very large dragon rounded the corner, stepping in next to Gita.

                  “Hey, this is none na you business. I was jus talking to the little lady,” the man said.

                  “Gita,” the dragon asked, “did you get that food I asked you to get for me?”

                  “Sure did,” Gita said

                  “Wait, you two know each other?” the man asked.

                  “Uh, yeah!” Gita spoke up. “I said I have friends. What? Did you think I was lying when I told you that? Reija here is my best friend. We’ve known each other for ages. It looks to me like you are the one without friends here.”

                  The man looked shocked, lifted his hands up in the air and stepped away, “Okay, fine, whatever!”

                  “What? You don’t want to touch me now?” Gita took a step towards the man, bumping into him.

                  “Hey look, I don’t wanna..”

                  “Try it, touch me,” Gita said, bumping into the man again, mimicking his wandering hands.

                  “Hey, stop it!” the man said.

                  “Go on, try it,” Reija said.

                  “Yeah, why suddenly so shy?” Gita pushed the man again in the chest.

                  “Forget you! Both of you!” The man waved them off and turned to leave.

                  Gita smiled. She turned to Reija with a nod of gratitude. Reija lowered her head. Gita leaned in. “It’s good to have a friend I can trust,” Gita said

                  “Any time. It’s been a long night?” Reija asked.

                  Gita leaned her head into the snout of Reija.

                  “Yeah… this life gets tiring.” Gita said with a sigh.

                  “I know, I know,” Reija said

                  The two held for a moment.

                  Reija spoke up. “Did you get it through?”

                  Gita leaned back, pulling a small leather bag out and opened it up to count a bundle of gold pieces. “Yep! And what looks like… a woman’s ring? Either he stole it or was planning to… romantically… propose?” Gita looked up at Reija with a disgusted look on her face. “In either case, it looks like he’ll be doing dishes at the pub tonight. I guess that’s what he gets for walking alone in this part of town.”

                  Reija chuckled. “We better get moving. Men like that are not far from weapons and spears. Spears are the worst. I hate spears.”

                  “Accurate observation,” Gita said. She tucked the pack of gold into her backpack, and with a few swift moves, was on the back of Reija. Reija crouched, and with several swoops of her wings, they disappeared into the darkness of the night.