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stiff,
white cap until its shadow completely covered his face. It was time
to move from this city and never return. It was time to move on
with his own destiny and leave Bridgestock to implode by
itself.
    This city had
never done anything for him, so he did not owe it a thing.
    Growing up in
Bridgestock had not been fun. To survive he had had to deny, lie,
and change. Twist to the wants of his friends to gain even a touch
of acceptance, and even then at the price of self-humiliation.
    For all
Pembrake Hunter cared, Bridgestock could go to hell.
    8 years ago,
Bridgestock
    'You smooth
pleck!' Ensign Western slapped Pembrake on the back and gave a wild
laugh. 'Another object of prey has fallen to the hunter, hey?'
    The other lads
chuckled and Pembrake couldn't help but join I;, he'd been the one
who'd gone bragging to them, after all. He couldn't complain when
they were just carrying on with his joke.
    'Tell me,
Pearson,' Western turned to the strapping Northlandian, acting as
the ringmaster in the circus of masculine ego, 'why does Hunter get
all the girls?'
    Pearson looked
around at the gathered ensigns, building up the moment even though
they all knew what his answer would be. 'Why that would be on
account of his tan, contrasts nicely with his white suit.'
    They all
laughed and, once again, Pembrake forced himself to join in, even
as he felt the humiliation twist around his gut. 'Hey, come on,
guys, I've told you before,’ he said through a hearty, but forced
laugh, 'both my parents are from Westland, seriously,' each
word was like slapping himself.
    Western, the
striped blue and white of his regulation shirt stretching over his
shoulders, laughed like a crazed drunkard.
'We know, Pembrake, you keep telling us.'
    The others
renewed their guffaws at the pointed answer, but Pembrake just
licked his lips and slowly forced himself to release the tight fist
he had made behind his back.
    As the boys
rounded the corner to the wide street a terrible shriek rang out
like a shot, making the last of their chuckles die in their
throats. The noise brought people pouring out of the shops and
taverns lining the street and they all turned to watch as several
guards walked imperiously towards them.
    'Make way for
the witch,' the leader spat, moving to one side slightly to
reveal a wild woman being restrained by two of the guards
    They dragged
the old witch between them like she was a piece of meat as she spat
and screamed, hurling strange, hissed words at her captors before
turning her bright yellow eyes on the crowd. 'You'll regret
thisss!' She said in the standard tongue, her s's long and g's
heavy. 'All of you, all of you.'
    The two
muscular guards that gripped her, laughed with an assured
callousness. 'Speaks Standard, does she? That's a big feat for a
witch. Look, Bill,' one guard motioned to his mate, 'this one isn't
a complete idiot.'
    The other
guard chuckled, his fat neck jiggling like a bowl of jelly. 'Yeah,
Sarge, I had a cousin what married a goat once – I reckon
she's at least as smart as him, if not smarter.'
    'Now, now,
Bill, don't be mean to your cousin.'
    The old women
howled. Her ragged hair, that was twisted and knotted around beads,
beat against the guards' arms as she thrashed.
    Pembrake
watched uncomfortably. Some of the lads beside him were howling
with laughter again, their tones cruel and their comments
crueller.
    'God, they
should have gotten rid of the old hag earlier – she looks likes
she's been rotting in her hut.'
    'They'll have
to demolish her hovel and build something over it, a tip, maybe, to
improve the view,' Ensign Western was almost crying with
laughter.
    But Pembrake
couldn't bring himself to join in. He knew he should laugh, he knew
he should pretend this was the funniest thing he'd ever seen. But
he simply couldn't bring himself to do it.
    'Go on,
Pembrake, what do you think?' Western jabbed him hard in the
ribs.
    He couldn't
describe what he was feeling. It wasn't so much revulsion