I

As he waddled down the street, the merchant reminded Octavia of a penguin. Not that she’d ever seen a real one before. His head was held high and he jingled like a prized horse in all its bridled and belled glory. Despite his obvious weight, he made his way down the stone-paved road deftly, making the stones sink more into the dirt beneath with each step. From her perch on a nearby roof, Octavia grew disgusted as he walked towards the bar situated in the back alley.

He opened the door, sullying the almost pure dark with the intrusion of light from the inside. It joined the small streak that escaped from the curtains in the bar’s windows and already loomed over the stones. His form soon eclipsed the light and both repulsive entities fully vanished as the door slammed shut behind him.

Octavia’s eyes were more accustomed to the streets when they were not marred by daylight. That was the precise reason why she preferred to observe the humans once the darkness had set over the only city in the desert of Ofura. In the hundreds of years she watched, she had everyone’s routine memorized. The trophy wives would go shopping in the day and make their butlers carry bags of useless whatevers while their husbands were off somewhere or other -- probably screwing other women.

But this merchant, he caught her attention more than all the other rich that trashed the city. He still held the arrogance of someone taught to think he was better than everyone else, yet he always came to the back-alley bar in which only the low-level servants drank their thoughts away.

Her thoughts strayed away from him as she looked at the place. Octavia could feel the bitter bite of whatever the men happened to drink that night running down their throats and warming their guts. Humans were disgusting. Part of her was truly glad that she was not one of those mongrels and her hair glittered into a blood red with pride at her inherited power.

She sat in the silent dark a while longer, savoring the wind as it played with her hair. Indulging her instinct, she allowed her eyes to close as she focused on the song of a bar brawl echo from perhaps a couple streets away. True happiness graced her very soul and turned her hair silver as she listened. Maybe that was why she did not notice the one man watching her through the bar window.

II

Cameron watched the inhuman. This was the first time he saw one smiling, and not in the bloodthirsty way they usually do. Maybe she was something else. He sat by himself, purely due to the fact his unknown mother was inhuman. And the probability the father that left him was some random servant in this city, like everyone else in this bar, didn’t help. No matter the similarities he had with others here, no one wanted to sully their hands with those that had “mixed natures.” Perhaps that was why he had resolved for just working as the merchant’s errand boy and never bothered to try any other job.

He looked up at the girl again. That silver hair flashed like the sharpest sword he’d ever seen, even though she was only bathed in moonlight. It was made more striking by the fact she wore a black jumpsuit, with a hood. Most women around here paraded in their new victorian couture or some other monstrosity, but she appeared to be perfectly content dressed as a man. That’s one thing the inhumans had going for them, they didn’t care about  what was “proper," just practical. He let out a sigh of resignation, knowing he wouldn’t ever be as free as her. Even if inhumans were outcasts, they had their packs and no one left those or the territory upon which they resided.

He got up, tired of the world, and started making his way to the door. The wooden chairs and tables were littered throughout the room in such a way that he could hardly take a step without accidentally tripping over something or losing his temper and just ramming through all the badly spaced crap. As he finally managed to near the door, his elbow conspired against him and lightly tapped a very wobbly man in his late thirties. Cameron barely even noticed, and would have continued to the door, had his elbow not been drunkenly snatched by the very same man, forcing Cameron to look into the drunk’s very red face.

“Hww d aare ywuuu” He slurred.

Probably meaning to say “how dare you.” Cameron started lifting his other hand, showing he meant no harm, but the drunk seemed to misunderstand the gesture.

III

CRASH! Octavia’s eyes snapped open at the sound of the bar doors swinging into the walls. Two men came rolling onto the stone-paved street. It would appear another bar fight was going to happen tonight. She looked on, curious how it would go. No one followed these two into the street, most likely no one cared, or everyone was too far gone to notice. She carefully climbed down the uneven brick wall, making sure to stay in the shadows. As she silently crept closer to the men, Octavia changed her hair to black, not wanting to be noticed easily. It was obvious who was going to win.

His hair was an unnatural gold, and if that was not enough to warn regular humans away, his eyes were a bluish-purple mix that marked him as only half human. His heart beat stronger, betraying his identity, and he was obviously less drunk. However, much to her annoyance, he was only defending himself. Obviously, this halfling did not know what he was supposed to do with humans that surpassed their boundaries.

He was in her territory, so she needed to teach this child how to behave. In a blur of black, the half-breed was thrown against the wall, where his body narrowly missed the window. Her heart thrummed in her chest as she felt the pure and powerful rush of a fight. Who cared what the rest of the pack said? The humans were fun to play with. She watched the halfling try to understand what just happened and, deciding he wasn’t a threat, turned her attention to the drunken man, whom she stood over, with a knife.

His bleary eyes widened as he came to the realization of what was about to happen. Octavia gave him a bright smile as she leaned over and slashed her knife towards his vulnerable throat, only for it to be blocked a centimeter away from it’s mark. She never stopped when she was about to kill. This was her prey. She turned in fury towards the thing she’d just thrown against the wall.

“Cameron, don’t do this,” she growled in warning, sounding more animal than human.

But she could smell the adrenaline littering his blood, he wasn’t about to lose his control on the knife -- or his power. She swore vividly in a language no human understood, her rage pouring out in waves as she attempted to slash at the man a couple more times. She needed this death tonight.

IV

Cameron gasped, trying to catch his breath. What was going on? A chill ran through his blood and left him cold, like an object for this power to use. He shivered uncontrollably and stared at the knife.

He didn’t know this girl, he had no idea how she knew his name, but he understood her intentions and he wasn’t letting anyone, not even this idiot, die.

He focused any energy he could muster to controlling the cold and held onto the knife with his mind. Briefly, he wondered how it was even possible to hold things with one’s mind, but he washed the thought away when he had to stop another strong attack from the inhuman.

He gritted his teeth in pain. It hurt to be cold. But he could feel the exhilarating presence of what he inherited from his mother turning his eyes fully purple. A sudden burst of confidence in his new power granted Cameron more strength and he threw Octavia against the wall she had previously climbed down, away from the now passed out man.

Wait. How’d the name come to him? He didn’t care. However, the second of distraction cost him. The chill abided a little as he noticed she wasn’t in the alley anymore. He took an agonizing step forward. God, everything hurt. He was about to look around, trying to find her when a pain slashed through his side. He clutched at the gash there, blood welling up in his hands and spilling over onto the ground. Cameron had the sudden realization that this wasn’t going to go well. He may have accidentally disrupted a hunt.

He jumped as a breath brushed his ear and he heard Octavia’s voice, too sweet, whisper “One of you is going to die for me.”

He didn’t know what to do, in a sudden moment of fear, his power left him stranded and human. He felt the cold vanish as it was replaced with the throbbing in his side and a sudden migraine that made him feel like he had been hit with a shovel.

V

Octavia laughed as she felt the inhuman presence in him vanish, typical of his kind. She left the weak thing moaning in agony in the corner and stalked towards the drunk man, what a pity it was that he wasn’t awake, and slit his throat wide open.

His heart beat blood onto the stones and turned the cracks red. She smiled at the warmth of what had splashed out of that body. It was better than anything humans could dream up. With a maniacal laugh, she stabbed the man’s heart, just as a trophy wife happened upon the alley.

Cameron jumped as her scream pierced the night, startling him. It is said her ghost still haunts that alley, shrieking in horror like she did right before a knife flew from the man’s chest into her gut, cutting off any sound she would ever make.

The knife twisted as she slumped to the ground, her mouth and eyes still open in horror. Oh, halflings are so unpredictable. Octavia looked towards Cameron. He was obviously in shock. He stared at the woman as if she was the last line he had to humanity. In a sudden start, he clambered to her body and attempted to save the dead mass. Her blood painted the creme dress she wore into a rich red as he tried to keep the blood inside her. He helplessly held on to the dying human as Octavia picked up the man she had slaughtered earlier.

VI

It was silent as Cameron looked up to see Octavia standing next to him, motioning him to get up. She held the dead man over her shoulder and seemed unphased by her jumpsuit now being dampened by blood. 

“Come. I’ll teach you control,” she whispered as a mother might to her child. He nodded, almost unaware of his own actions, and followed her into the night carrying the poor, dead woman. And even a century later, all inhabitants of Ofura steer clear when they see two figures walking in the dark, their gold and silver hair accompanying them.