Sore Loser

He was not the sort that really liked physical exercise. Why would he? According to him, he wasn’t even built for that, but for thinking and studying. And anyone could see that by just looking at him, really. His Lunaesi traits gave him short legs, a longer body, and a long whip tail that weighted its weight. Besides that, his kind was built to climb away from their enemies, not run… And he was quite pleased with that fact. 

Also, he just didn’t like running. As in, truly running, of course; he was fine with raising the rate of his steps to get somewhere faster. But running a race?  That was out of the question. 

Or so he thought, anyway. 

Like a lot of Lunaesi, Lute and his mother found themselves waking up in the middle of the afternoon - despite being nocturnal in general - just for a chance to partake in the hustle-bustle of the community around them. In other words, they did that to buy provisions… although, ever since he had been old enough to do so on his own, this had become Lute’s job. According to his mother, she had better things to do anyway. 

He wasn’t too pleased with that, but it wasn’t as if he could tell her that he had important magical studies to tend to, which she did. So he gritted his teeth and tried to get it done as quickly as possible, which meant that he would often jog the whole way there, then back. 

Only, on that day, he was rudely stopped right down from his mother’s home by a rude Ortusi that stood in his way. Lute stopped in his steps with a frown on his face. He knew that one, for one, by name even. This was a rowdy male that went by the name of Sam. And while they were both around the same age, Lute judged Sam harshly for his immaturity and his percieved stupidity… He didn’t want anything to do with youth of his age, but it was even worse when they were destruction-driven hooligans with only chaos on their mind. Which Sam totally was, according to Lute. 

“Hey,” said Sam. “Where are you going?” 

“I’m on my way to the town,” said Lute, not even saying hey back. “Is something the matter?” 

“I’m bored.”

“Well that’s a shame.” 

Lute was about to side-step the rude interrupter when the latter addressed him once more, this time with a smile. 

“You wanna race?” he asked. 

“Race?” repeated Lute. “No, no thank you! I don’t think so.” 

“What? But you run anyway on your way to the market,” said Sam. 

“What? I don’t do that,” said Lute, indignant. “I never did that. Who told you that?” 

“No one told me.” Sam scoffed. “I saw you. You pass in front of my garden.” 

Lute knew that. And he was always careful not to look in its direction, less that ruffian interpret that as a sign that he wanted anything to do with him. Seriously, why were barely civilised creatures allowed on the road? They were best off fenced in their place…

“Hey, I promise it’s easy,” said Sam with a smile. “I’ve been working all days in the field with my Pa’, so I’m a bit tired… I’m telling you, if you race me, it’s never been this easy.” 

Lute remained quiet, choosing to consider his next answer carefully. While it was true he didn’t like racing, he didn’t mind winning, especially winning at something his opponent was suppose to be good at. In fact, he really liked it, and while he wouldn’t exactly rub a painful defeat in someone else’s face, he’d love the free pass to unlimited smugness. This was… tempting… 

“It’ll be fun!” said Sam. “I’ll race you to the food store.” 

“Fine,” said Lute. “I’ll do it…” 

This seemed to overjoy Sam, who pranced a little in excitement. But he didn’t get distracted too long: moments later, he was tracing a line in the dirt with his hoof. Lute, on the other hand, was a lot calmer, simply standing behind the line like a normal person would. 

“Ready,” said Sam. “Set— Go!” 

The moment he took off though, Lute knew that this had been a mistake. Despite his claim of being tired, despite the glimer of hope that Lute had enjoyed, he was quickly left behind as Sam sped ahead at great speed. Five seconds in, he was already twice the lengths of his body ahead of Lute, and still gaining speed. And this made Lute furious! 

He threw all he could into the race, forcing his legs to carry on and just move faster… It was no use. Very quickly, his form caught up to him, his breath came out in short bursts, and there was the threat of a strong, sharp pain in his side. 

“Hoh—” he tried to call. 

He slowed down. Sam only sped ahead, completely unaware of what was happening behind him. 

“Stop,” wheezed Lute. “I give up…” 

Sam did not stop. But what was there to expect out of a damn Ortusi? They were all the same. Brutish idiots… And now, Lute had to walk the rest of the way, if only to offer a respite to his poor lungs. What a waste… 

Of course, Sam was waiting for him in front of the food store. Lute would have clearly preferred not to see him again, but what could he do about it? He had accepted the damn race, and he had lost. And it wasn’t as if there were any other food stores he could go to instead of the one where Sam was waiting for him, not in this blasted mud hole his mother had taken him to… Why didn’t they live in the city, where there were people that were actually interesting and had good hobbies like playing cards…? 

Better constellation sight, right. And his mother’s important study. Right, right. 

“Did you fall?” asked Sam. 

“I said I give up,” said Lute. “You just didn’t hear me.”

“That still makes me the winner!” said Sam. “Heh! I won! I wooon!” 

“Amazing,” said Lute. “No one saw that one coming.” 

“Right! I was still all sore from all that work, but I guess I just still had it in me. Like a second wind… I love racing. Don’t you?” 

“I hate it.” 

“Aw, why? Doesn’t it feel good when you win?” 

Lute stared at Sam with wide eyes. It was official, then. Sam was a cretin. 

“Something the matter?” asked Sam. 

“Never mind,” said Lute. “I got to start shopping. If I come back to late, my mom won’t like that.” 

“Aw, okay. Hey, next time, you promise that you won’t give up before it’s finished, all right?” said Sam. “My Pa’, well, he said that giving up is only for LOSERS!” 

Lute winced away from Sam and his booming voice. And what he said stung as well, but at least it wasn’t as if there was going to be a next time… No sir. 

He’d make sure of that.