…..:::::|. Silver Street: Peddler’s Way .|:::::…..

Halycind awoke.

She was on a park bench, up the far end of Silver Street. She was clothed and enveloped in a perfect bouquet of floral scents. She moaned herself awake to find she was surrounded by citrus blooms.

A cold fear gripped her.

And she instantly felt ugly for betraying him.

Siin would never forgive her.

She tried to stand up but tears were threatening to pull her to the ground.

Several children and a group of interested men criss-crossed her vision as they peered upon the near-whimpering girl in the park.

She collected her sobs and tried to straighten her stance for sake of appearance.

Halycind was very well put-together this sun-rising. Her bright white armour gleamed in all its bright whiteness; every clasped shut, every cord tied, every hair in her wolaenki in place all laid with feathers and rosestones. But the Halycind on the inside of all that polish was very wrong.

She’d given herself to something she didn’t even know what it was. He’d dressed her, lay her comfortably on a bench in a town, surrounded her with a comforting scent. But he wasn’t there. He’d left her. Alone.

She didn’t look as used as she’d felt. And then she quieted her thoughts to actually feel whatever her body was supposed to be telling her.

Wasn’t her womb supposed to be in pain? Wasn’t she supposed to feel sore in places? Kodlaa had expressed all these things and warned her of the morning afterwards. But Halycind felt nothing of the sort.

The only thumping pain she felt was from the soreness in her left palm and the heat of his kiss on her lips.

She spat.

She needed something to wash off her mistake and she eyed a small tavern at the street’s corner. Halycind hated this morning already and all she knew was to drink the confusion away.

She veered back out of that tavern, laden now with dried fruits, a handful of berries, some random meat, and a scone in her arms, over to another tavern for another drink.

When Halycind emerged with yet another flagon, townies on the street knew she’d had, at the very least, a rough night.

Kodlaa’s eyes, as she strolled happily up the block, caught her pack-sister drifting through the city streets with food and flagon in arm and made a face of gross confusion.

She had not seen her friend return to the Fifty-Foot-O-Rope the night prior, and Halycind always walked her mornings with a clear head. Kodlaa knew something had been quite off with her pack-sibling if this was the sight that greeted her this sun-rising.

She approached her stiffly-moving friend to examined her face and passed her a pensive hum.

“Cash? Where are you coming from…”

Kodlaa peered on Halycind’s eyes as they were red from sobbing. She had remembered seeing Siin and Halycind leave the other tavern at the same time. But the two of them was to supposed to have been a good match, she’d figured.

“Did you?” Kodlaa looked about Halycind's middle thinking something may have gone wrong with them. “Bed Siin?”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Halycind only stared, tears welling. Blankly. Had she bed Siin? Had she bed anyone? She had no right recollection of what had actually happened. And if she had bed the mage, how did she end up on a park bench. She would have liked to have remembered.

"I was drunk.” She said stifling something of a sob. “But I only remember waking up on the street.”

“Uh. Well, I mean, if you didn't, you should've.” Kodlaa said bending into open concern.

“Wha?”

“You like him...and he never left you in the infirmary.”

Halycind was immediately stricken with guilt and almost went sick to the ground. Her insides felt wrong. She’d never betrayed something she’d felt so deeply before. She suddenly remembered Siin's most open outpouring of emotion, his confession of love and his apparent care for her well-being. Siin had given all his time to remain with her on an unending watch during her delicate recovery. And all she could do in return was chase the scent of a necromancer through the city streets. The shame started to leak in gobs from the pours on her forehead and she wanted to wail in these streets.

What would her pack-sister think?

What was she to do now that she'd given herself to someone—no something else?

She hurled on the side of the road and Kodlaa yelped in disgusted surprise.

"Cash! You shouldn’t have drank so much so early! Haly, what’s wrong?!" Kodlaa was near her own tears as she couldn’t find what had even gripped her pack-mate to the point of anguish.

Halycind was averting her eyes, like a shamed woman, as she turned to face the streets full of fair-goers.

“I just need to go back to the inn.”

“Nonono, you need to walk with me and talk with me.” She was rubbing Halycind’s cold sweating cheeks. You need to get this alcohol out of your system.” Kodlaa steered her friend toward the other end of the street. “Wasn’t there a tantantoa you needed to get?”

Halycind nodded.

The streets were filling as the morning rolled on and the girls heard the Speculah song-keepers sing lovely tales of triumph and love while performers turned wild acrobatics around them. Halycind then caught sight of the inker's parlor sign, and she was relieved to have a different focus.

Kodlaa entered with her and waited on the door sill with her own arms folded as her somber pack-sister described what she wanted etched into her skin.

Halycind was near naked as her tantantoa was to be drawn all across her back and ribs in curled lines and filigree to accentuate her ample curves. In their old language Algonq, it was to read “Gale-Killer” but under such skill of this inker it turned out to be much more than a word, it was a masterful piece of art.

The whole time the inker worked, Halycind only stared at the rosestone music box as it sang and twirled all its parts. She thanked Kodlaa again for it but barely talked much beyond that.

The inker acknowledged her own work with a pleased hum and Halycind looked to her own left hand. She didn’t see the mark anymore and she didn’t want to. The inker instructed that Halycind couldn’t wear the armour for a while and both girls decided for Kodlaa to fetch Halycind a frock. Something fitting for May Rising’s festivities.

When Kodlaa had left, Halycind dressed quietly, wondering what Siin would say to her when they all met up again, if anything at all.

She’d abandoned him. He must have thought she didn't want him after he’d asked such a vulnerable question in the pantry. She didn’t want that to be a lie. It wasn’t a lie. She wanted him; wanted every bit of him. She wanted him with her now. Even if he hated her, she wanted him.

As the inker put away her tools, Halycind’s near sobs stopped her and asked if she’d etch another.

A darker nine-pointed star. But she wanted it in her hairline, behind her ear where she’d first seen the sun kiss his perfect skin.

The inker obliged, switching all her colours to darker tones, as Halycind’s tantantoa of the gale kill was all done in gleaming white. As the inker worked quietly, Halycind whispered to herself when she still saw nothing on her left hand. “I want the mark of my feather...not yours.”

It had taken Kodlaa some time to return with something pretty and she found Halycind wrapped in sheets by the inker’s window, staring off into the streets.

The two girls left, having dressed and tipped the artist a heavy coin.

Knowing whatever gripped Halycind’s mind was not going to let go, Kodlaa simply walked arm in arm with her pack-sibling into the fan fare of May Rising.

The crowds were thick, so thick in fact, Kodlaa was beginning to get annoyed by their inability too move on through. Kodlaa caught eye of a group of large people sitting in one of the taverns, as they looked like Half-Giants from Sidian Garden. She couldn't recognize them, individually from this distance though, but she pulled Halycind on by the arm to not lose her in the throng.