Flashback scene

The following is a draft of a flashback that I'll work into the narrative later in the novel. The scene is set five years before the start of our novel.

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Shortly after her family moved from the wreckage of their village to the slums of Slag City, Moxie had been hurrying home after a day of pilfering scrap metal and wires from the trash of the surrounding factories. She hesitated at the edge of a dump yard, a huge lot filled with towering mounds of slag. She knew she should go around, but her arms ached from carrying the heavy box of spare parts that she and her family would soon make into valuable machines. She glanced up. Sooty snow had begun to fall from the sky. That decided her. She'd be damned if she had to draw another bath from the communal well down the street because the plumbing in her shoddy apartment didn't work.

She was halfway through the mounds when two squat creatures suddenly rose up out of the earth in front of her, blocking her path. Moxie's eyes widened and her legs felt like water. The fey didn't take kindly to trespassers, but this was communal land... wasn't it? The foreign creatures were barely four feet tall with rough-hewn skin and craggy, scowling faces that appeared to be made out of stone. Wisps of hair like the fine roots of trees stuck out from their balding heads. Triple-jointed fingers ended in sharp claws and their legs were little more than crumbling piles of earth and stone. Moxie was too terrified to move; she had never seen or even heard of faeries like this.

One of creatures opened his mouth, working his jaw like he was trying to speak and revealing double rows of serrated teeth and a thick, worm-like tongue that made Moxie gag. She imagined that tongue licking her flesh as the creature bit down, ripping the meat from her bones. A deep pulse sounded through the earth, a sound so low that Moxie felt rather than heard it. Then the creatures were moving toward her, reaching out with dirt dripping from their arms. Moxie dropped her box and ran like hell.
 
She wound her way back out through the mounds of slag as fast as her legs could carry her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that the creatures were gaining on her and they appeared to be passing through the mounds, rather than around them. She turned back around, making it to the street - and slammed straight into a slender, golden god of a man. He cried out in surprise, but then pivoted with astonishing grace, dropping his sack and catching her before she fell. Apples and one precious orange rolled out of his bag. Moxie accidentally stepped on the orange as she tried to regain her feet, squishing the expensive fruit and nearly falling again before she found her balance.

The golden god glanced down as he steadied her with his hands on her arms, resignation etched into his handsome features. "Of course," he muttered then gave her a wry smile. "You have no idea what I went through to get that." Moxie gasped. His voice was like rich black coffee and sinfully sweet honey, all rolled into one. She couldn't think past the sound of it. That voice - Oh, God, that voice! - caressed her skin under her clothes and sent shivers down her breasts and spine. It curled around her body, drawing her deeper into his embrace. She wanted to crawl inside him where it was safe and warm and make him hers, but she couldn't even manage move. The best she could do was stare up into his chestnut eyes and tremble in his arms. The man's brow knitted with concern. "Are you all right? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Moxie almost moaned. His decadent voice tightened things deep inside her, and she blushed - actually blushed. Pure mortification finally broke her from his spell. "I don't blush," she muttered then blushed even harder as she noticed that she was clutching his threadbare coat, pulling him against her.

The man gave her a shy, nervous laugh that was totally at odds with his stunning appearance. "I'm sorry?" he said. He hesitated then brushed her hands with his fingertips, a quick, light touch like the brush of a falling leaf. Moxie released him as if she'd been burned, staring at where her hands had been. The man jerked away so fast that she almost lost her balance. She looked up, braced for his derision, and instead found him watching her warily, as if he expected her to slap him.

Moxie frowned but didn't have time to deal with his strange reaction. The man had been silent long enough that the fog was clearing from her mind, and she suddenly recalled why she had been running in the first place. She whirled, shocked that they weren't dead yet, and found that the two creatures had stopped between the towering mounds of slag twenty feet away. They moved restlessly, dirt dripping from their squat figures, as they eyed the man beside her, one with amusement, the other with malice. The man followed her gaze and stiffened. "Please tell me those are friends of yours," he said.

Moxie shook her head. "I trespassed on their territory. I didn't know..."

The man gave her a sidelong glance. "The fey know when a trespasser means them harm or is just passing through unawares." Moxie glanced at him and realized what she hadn't before: he was part sidhe. It was there in his delicate bones, slightly too large eyes, and that amazing voice. His tone was clipped now. His words still tasted like honey on her tongue, but they didn't catch her in their spell as they had before. Moxie wondered if he could control his voice or if she was merely getting used to it. "Besides," he finished, slowly withdrawing a bone knife from a sheath on his thigh, "I've been through here a thousand times, even slept here once or twice. This is not their territory."

Moxie eyed the knife. The blade was as long as her forearm and stained dark brown in places. "Then what do they want?" she whispered.

He snorted then gave a roguish grin, keeping his eyes on the creatures. His smile made him look younger. She realized with a start that he was only a few years older than her sixteen. "How the hell would I know?" he said. "I'm Cy, by the way--Cypher."

"Moxie."

He nodded then stepped carefully between her and the creatures. "Go away," he called to them. "We have no quarrel with you." Moxie gasped at the force of that deep, honey voice and grabbed the back of his jacket as she swayed. Oh, yes, he could control it, and he hadn't meant to enchant her before, that much was clear.

The creatures hissed at him. Their serrated teeth appeared to be made of stone. The one who had looked amused opened his mouth as if to speak and again that deep pulse of sound-that-was-not-sound shook the earth. Cy covered his ears with a cry and swore under his breath.

"I think we should go," Moxie said, tugging at his coat.

He turned to her with an incredulous look. "You think?" He grabbed her hand and they started to run, but a series of pulses made him stumble then finally drop to his knees. The bone knife clattered to the ground as he clutched at his ears, trying to block out the sound that was too low for Moxie to hear.

"Cy!" she cried, dropping beside him and trying to pull him to his feet. He hunched in on himself, looking as if he might throw up. Moxie glanced behind them. The earthly creatures appeared to be arguing, gesturing at Cy and Moxie with their claws. She didn't understand the chubby one's malice as he glared at Cy. Neither of them had looked at her that way, and for that she was glad. She tugged at Cy's arm, trying to get him to rise. He gasped and looked up at her. Pain shone in his eyes as well as surprise, as if he couldn't quite believe that she hadn't left him behind.

He struggled to his feet and she grabbed his knife--and then suddenly the pulsing ended. Moxie watched as the creatures melted back into the earth. Cy's eyes were wide with disbelief as their straggly hair and balding heads disappeared.

"What the hell were those things?" Moxie said. Cy didn't respond. She turned toward him and saw blood trickling from his ears. She took his hand in hers. His palm was smeared with blood. "Can you hear me?" she asked.

His expression was tender when he looked at her. He brushed the brown strands of her hair away from her face with the fingertips of his free hand. "A little," he said. "It'll pass."

Moxie offered him a small smile and squeezed his hand. "You're sure?"

He nodded. Then the corners of his lips quirked up. "My neighbor is a banshee who fancies herself a singer. Pray you never have to hear her wail."

Moxie gaped, unsure whether or not he was kidding until he tweaked her nose. "Come on, bright eyes," he laughed. "Let's get you home."