He hungered in the dark.

It was because the lady that smelled sickly sweet hadn't come in two days.

She called him 'boy' since he had no name, and she didn't want to give him one and grow attached. It was a passing fancy for her, a night-worker at the nearby brothel, to feed him from a skeletal looking goblin to a pale and thin young child. He didn't know his name, didn't understand much language, and reeked of excrement. A few pieces of hard bread and a dunk into tub full of cold water had been enough to check if he was at least an intelligent race.

He was growing desperate enough to violate the rule of never leaving the room in order to eat. One more night of cold starvation would probably make him give in. He should try to sleep and conserve strength, because the next day, he may be back into the alleyways of the dirty city.

The sound of the door jolted him awake. The sweet-smelling lady entered her small apartment, and opened the door to his room. Her hair was disheveled, and she looked about as tired as he was hungry.

"Here, I worked hard and got some better food this time," she said as she dropped a basket onto the floor.

She smiled as he tore into the hard bread and cheese. "Eat slowly, or you'll hurt your stomach," but he either heard nothing in his ravenous hunger, or didn't understand. The basket was empty save for a single fruit in a matter of minutes, and reluctantly, he picked up the fruit and tried to hand it to her.

Her smiled became almost saintly for a moment, as she pushed it back to him with a light chuckle. "You eat it, but slowly, alright?"

He tried to smile back, although it looked like a lopsided grimace. Maybe smiling wasn't his thing, she thought, as he slowly chewed the apple down to the rind.

"You'll live with me now, boy, and if I ever get out of this mess, I'll properly give you a name. I'll be your mother."

"Ma-their," the boy whispered.

The saintly smile returned to linger on her face.