Blue as skies in summer, pouring out exhaust, and attracting a small crowd, he’d never seen anything like it. Neither had the small band of kids shoving each and daring each other to touch a pearly headlight. Whoever the driver was, they were frustrated, turning over the engine and flooding it, trying to get something to catch.
As predators watch limping prey, the children grew bold. A girl with thin dirty braids picked up a rock.
Culled grabbed her shoulder and shook his head. Pale eyes narrowed to slits, and her tiny fingers tightened around the stone. The others waited, frozen between flight or concerted assault. He waited for them to decide. A good strike to his remaining kneecap would have him down and on their level. If they could swarm him fast enough, they had a chance.
A few jeers were muttered in his direction. They were too aware of the machinery making up his left leg to say anything loud. He should be dead. Instead was walking around fine as anyone on metal and gears and keeping them from their fun. Their fear at his strangeness kept things amicable.
The girl dropped the rock and shook off Cullen’s grip. He let her and her little gang slink away, eyeing him and the lux car with equal hatred. One problem solved. Another becoming bigger. Cullen watched dark smoke start to rise from beneath the hood. Much longer, and the powder-blue beauty would be scrap.
Rabid children, decent adults, didn’t matter who you were, no one like meddling. But the car was a rare thing, sleek and timeless amidst the yard’s rusted leavings. He could help, so he would offer. With a tight-lipped sigh, he moved over to tap on the driver’s side window.
Not a thief this week, but definitely late. I may have been robbed. If so, check out the Legal Theft Project to see what others have done with my first line.