The rest of this story is going to be in the third person, even though it is Ryou’s dream. It’s easier that way.

Narrow Escapes

Bakura crouched behind the corner eyeing the loaf of bread. The bazaar was filled. No one would notice him if he took the bread. He licked his lips salivating, craving the taste of real food for a change. He was tired of the same gruel from the orphanage. They sometimes left a small pot out in the night for the poor of Cairo. It was old, lumpy, brown, and sometimes felt crunchy. After he caught the orphanage scooping sand into the gruel, he decided not to eat it anymore.
He’d rather take his chances with capture.
Bakura’s eyes remained fixed on the bread savoring its taste before he even indulged in the pleasure of tearing it to shreds. Finally, the owner of the shop turned around to haggle with another customer. Bakura’s stomach growled. Three days without food was too much in this oppressive heat. Bakura stood up and brushed back his long, white hair. He casually walked up to the bread stand and grabbed the loaf of bread quickly.
“THIEF! THIEF!” A woman called who stood beside him. The woman caught Bakura’s collar, but he wrenched himself free quickly. He heard the clanging of armor and the whistles for the guards.
“THAT THIEF STOLE A LOAF OF BREAD OFF OF THIS VENDOR!” the woman squealed pointing towards Bakura.
Bakura darted away, pushing through the crowds and hearing the threats from the soldiers.
“GET BACK HERE, THIEF! STOP THAT BOY!”
Several people dove at him and pulled at his already-tattered clothing. Bakura jumped over a counter of a fish shop and leaped over the other side. He turned the corner and saw soldiers running towards him. “These guys don’t quit!” the thief thought.
He climbed onto a ladder and climbed up to the roof. He ran along the roof of the homes clutching the bread tightly. He stopped for a minute to bite into the bread. It was warm…soft….not filled with sand or glass…unlike the gruel. It was real nourishment!
He heard the clanging of armor again and he ran again until he came to the edge. It would be a twenty foot drop onto a flimsy piece of material below. He couldn’t guarantee his own safety.
What had he to lose? A life of poverty? Starvation? Neglect? He was already 16 years old and had been on his own since he was four. He had to learn to steal to survive. He had nothing to lose if he crashed onto the ground below. There was no family. No friends. What had he to lose besides a loaf of bread? Bakura turned around to see the general behind him.
“Give it up, boy. Give me the bread and I promise I will chop off only one of your hands.”
“You don’t understand! I haven’t eaten in days! I can’t afford this!”
“Well, then, boy….I’m afraid I will need both of your hands after all.
Bakura grunted and looked below.
“I’ve dealt with you before, boy! I’m tired of chasing your scrawny little ass around Cairo!”
Bakura growled. “If Pharaoh Yami gave me the opportunity to work and provide for myself, then you wouldn’t have to chase my scrawny ass all over the bazaar.”
The general drew his sword. “I’m gonna get you one of these days, you little runt. It may as well be today.”
Bakura looked down at the street and at the general ready to run him through. Bakura squinted his eyes and jumped off the edge of the roof.
“YOU CAN’T ESCAPE THAT EASY FROM GENERAL ANUBIS!”
Bakura fell through the material and onto a shop below him. The shop collapsed and Bakura winced as he struggled to his feet.
“THAT’S THE THIEF! THE WHITE-HAIRED KID!”
Bakura grabbed the bread and ran off with a limp. He ran to an alley and hid behind a flight of stairs and bit into the bread again savoring every crumb. Bakura licked his lips gnawing and tearing the bread hungrily. When the sound of armor was heard again, Bakura darted off again towards the city gates. He pushed through the crowd when he barely missed a sword that was brought down on his head. Bakura grunted as the wound gushed blood. Bakura grabbed a white horse and jumped up on its back. He rode out of the city hunched over clutching the bread in his weakening hands.

**************************
Marik shook his head. “Why do I have to go? You know my current situation! I can’t leave Amunet..she is with child! She’s going to give birth any day and this is my first offspring! You can’t deny me this, Dakari Elder.”
Darkari, the elder of the settlement shook his head. “you must go, Marik Jibade Ishtar. No one here can make the long trip to Saqqara. We need those supplies for your wife and for our people.”
Marik bent on his knees pleading. “Don’t let me go, Senusnet! My wife! How can I leave her?”
Senusnet put his hand on Marik’s shoulder. “We must do what we have to, Ishtar. It may harm you to leave your wife, but Sekani is a good doctor. He will be present to help your wife give birth. The town must have food….and your wife needs medicine.”
Marik looked at the faces of the elders and bowed his head. “I will do what you command, elders.”
Marik walked away into his tent. The elders exchanged glances.
Dakari shook his head. “They are after him. We can’t let Ishtar be taken.”
Senuset folded his hands in prayer. “Ra’s will be done. Yami’s guards are convinced we are protecting him.”
“Marik has helped us all. He has kept us alive. He grew up with us. We raised him as our own since he was seven. We cannot let Marik be taken away.”
Dakari turned to the elders. “What about his wife? Amunet is with child and Sekani says she is close. If Yami’s guards catch her, she will be executed.”
“What are we to do, Dakari? If we have her give birth in the desert alone, a jackal will smell the blood and attack her or she will be caught by the soldiers and killed. She can’t leave her bed. Either way, Amunet and the child will be sacrificed to save Marik’s life.”
“The least we can do is allow Marik to say his goodbyes to his wife.”
Marik kneeled before his wife in bed, her belly pronounced loudly the expectation of their first child. The desert wind blew the tent they called their home. The settlement’s elders were waiting outside for his departure.
“Marik.” Amunet raised her hand to touch Marik’s cheek gently. “Why so sad, my husband?”
Marik sighed and placed his head on her protruding belly. The baby inside curled up to him. “I have to leave, my wife.”
Amunet’s smile faded. “Why? Sekani says I am ready very soon.”
Marik smoothed back her black hair. “I must go get supplies. I promise I will return quickly.”
Amunet began to cry and Marik hugged her. “Please don’t cry. I promise to be back when I can. Then, I’ll come home and hold my son. Our beautiful son.”
Marik pressed his lips to Amunet’s. Her lips were still sweet as ever. Her gentle touch soothed his skin, hot from the desert heat.
“Go do what you must, my love. I’ll be here with our sin when you get back.”
“I love you.”
“Come back and you’ll be able to hold your son.”
Marik smiled. “I will.”
Marik kissed her again and left the tent fighting back tears. The elders prepared his horse with water and food and the raw materials for a fire. They also included some first aid supplies.
Sekani walked up to Marik. “Your wife will be well cared for, Ishtar.”
“Thank you, Sekani.” Marik mounted the horse and rode out of the town. Marik rode all day until the stars came out. He was riding when he found a boy lying face down in the sand. Marik jumped off his horse and ran to the boy. The teen was clutching a half a loaf of bread. A wound on his back was caked in dried blood.
“Hey, you awake?” Marik took the boy’s pulse. He was alive, but hurt. Marik carried the thin, fragile youth to his horse and draped him over the horse’s back. Marik lead the horse to the shadow of a pyramid. He lit a fire and dressed the youth’s injury. Marik was tempted to take the food, but, he could get it as payment for saving the boy’s life anyway.
It was after the stars came out that the boy opened his eyes and Chocolate brown eyes met purple.

Next chappie: Marik and Bakura get familiar…no lemon…too early, guys.