Miss Witch Doesn't Want to be a Diva

As the two boys managed to shake off the stray dogs that clung to them and gnawed at their pants legs, a large dog that had been barking furiously lunged forward, knocking one of the boys to the snowy ground.

Standing over him, the wet, hot mouth and teeth of the large dog were clear to see, blocking out the sky, the stench of sour, fishy odor causing dizziness, before it aimed straight for the boy's throat.

Fortunately, this time the boy on the ground had been alert enough in advance to shield his neck with his hands, allowing the large dog to bite into his palm instead. The teeth pierced through flesh and bone, agitating nerves, nearly causing the boy on the ground to faint from the pain.

After shaking off the stray dogs beside him, the other boy rushed over and fiercely struck the large dog with a stick, but it was ineffective. Tasting blood, the wild dog became even more frantic, biting again, this time latching onto the chin and tearing flesh.

Upon seeing this, the boy who was still standing suddenly remembered something. He quickly let go of the stick, rummaged for a small knife from his bosom, and stabbed at the dog below.

"Awwoo—" In pain, the wild dog yelped, hastily jumped back, and finally the siege was lifted.

Afterward, panting, the two boys picked up their stick and knife again to confront the five stray dogs. By this time, both parties had injuries and became much more cautious and wary of each other.

Time slowly passed, and the boy's palm, exposed to the air, gradually lost all feeling from the cold. The sight of the blood-drenched palm unsettled the two boys constantly.

However, they didn't run away. Running through the snow not only sapped their strength, but a fall would give the enemy a terrifying opportunity.

The dogs kept barking incessantly, and after some time, it finally drew the attention of people from the tavern.

An adult, cursing, walked over. Seeing the five stray dogs surrounding the boys, he let out a fierce shout, scaring away these already hesitant creatures. These hungry dogs, already limited in strength, had no problem attacking children, but would certainly be no match for an adult.

After getting a clear view of the besieged children, the burly man furrowed his brow, cursed a few words, and told them to leave quickly.

Supporting his injured companion, the two boys slowly vanished into the wind and snow.

Lacking proper medical attention, uncertain if they were infected with rabies, and having lost a significant amount of blood, the future awaiting the two boys was not optimistic.
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"That day, if I hadn't supported you, you would have died in the snow." Gleid mentioned this to Valke years later, giving him something to ponder.

"How come I remember it as you being bitten by the dog, and then I helped you back?" Valke replied.

"You're remembering it wrong, it was you who got bitten. Don't believe me? Look at your palm, there might still be a scar." Gleid responded.

Valke's palm did indeed bear scars, or rather, he had numerous scars all over his body, sometimes not even he could remember how he got them.

"Alright then." Valke, always less articulate than Gleid, did not argue further.

The days of scavenging for food on the streets with stray dogs and rats were now rather distant memories. They were now living in a small church, taken in by a kind-hearted priest. It was also an orphanage, housing many children with circumstances similar to their own.

Many of them had congenital defects, or due to childhood experiences, had somewhat abnormal mentalities. In this environment, they were considered to have relatively better conditions.

Another winter came around, and they, along with the other children, sat together in the church's hall. Though the large space made it hard to warm up, it was still exceedingly friendly compared to the deadly cold outdoors.

About a dozen children sat quietly along both sides of the long table, waiting. The clock on the wall moved slowly, and it was almost 7 p.m. That's when Boise hurried back.

"Hey, good evening." He entered the hall carrying a large parcel, waving to the children.

"Good evening, Pastor Boise~" The children replied happily, although a few remained withdrawn, they still echoed their peers.

"Very well, good children, here's the food for today." The smile on his face was slight as he placed the package on the table and opened it, revealing cheap bread that, despite its taste, was plenty.

Sitting in a room that wasn't cold, the children grabbed the bread and ate haphazardly, while Pastor Boise watched, his gaze a complex mix of happiness and disgust.

As time drew on, the children who were only about ten years old gradually grew up. Some remained as silent as before, some turned rebellious, others just muddled along, contentedly enjoying the daily food provided by the priest.

Pastor Boise saw all this and gradually changed his approach.

For the quiet children, an occasional inquiry was enough. For the rebellious ones, he attempted discipline and admonition, giving up on them if they didn't respond. For those who were indifferent, he found them work to do. As for those who were clever and obedient, he patiently instructed them, sometimes giving them extra treats.

These seemed like good actions, but the children quickly noticed the differential treatment. Some started to ingratiate themselves with Pastor Boise, others sought his sympathy by crying about being bullied and hungry, so he would give them treats or be more lenient.

The priest was unaware of these little schemes at first, but as time went on, he gradually caught on and thereafter became more distant, or rather, more biased in his conduct.