By the time he had ended his questionnaire and Lerrelth eaten all the pie, it was midnight, and she had insisted they stay the night. At first, October refused. He hated the thought of sleeping in Lerrelth's golden nest. But she had pointed out that, if he really wanted to make the journey back, he'd probably end up carrying a slumbering February. The wizard turned to see the girl, with her eyes closed, and her head tilted downwards. So, they stayed the night.

As he oversaw his daughter sleep, both lying in a relatively flat zone of the dragon's treasure, October smelt a sulfuric scent and faced Lerrelth.

"Listen and listen closely, October. Raising a child is like growing a tree. Your job is to guide them and nurture them while they mature on their own. It doesn't matter how much you want them to be strong and healthy, if you try to force them to grow a certain way, you could end up hurting them."

"Snails!"

The squee of joy took him out of his remembrance. October saw February running towards a bush ripe with reddish-brown berries.

When she was close by, she stopped dead in her tracks, squinted at the bush and let out a disappointed: "Aw!"

October frowned, "You thought they were snails?" he asked.

"Yes. Don't snails have little round shells to hide in while they climb plants? I've read about them."

"Well, yeah, but I could see they were linberries from afar," He kneeled next to the girl and examined her big eyes, "You might need glasses."

"Glasses?" She tilted her head sideways like a curious hound, "Why?"

"They help you see things better."

"I thought they were just pretty accessories."

"Well, maybe for the fey they are," he said, "But for most people they serve to help with sight."

"Oh. I didn't know that."

October got up and dusted off the dirt off his clothing, "Let's take a left turn. I bet we can find a pair that fits you in the Goblin Market. We had to go someday to get clothes and extra food, so why not now?"

"We have goblins in the Sky, too." She said.

"I see. They really are everywhere, aren't they?"

"Why is it called the Goblin Market?" said February as they walked.

"It started as a little bazaar selling goblin goods, like meat or fruit, and the name stuck even after more types of products began being offered," something occurred to him, "What do you like to eat, February?"

"Skuid."

"Squid? We can find some, but honestly, how did you manage to have it up there?"

"No, not squid. Skuid."

"Sorry?"

"S-ku-id." She was looking at him as if she was dealing with someone that spoke a different tongue.

And he still didn't hear the difference.

"Down here, we have squid. We'll see if it's similar."

"Okay." She sounded doubtful but followed him without protest.

----------------------------------------

The Market was an expanse of colorful stands, colorful vendors and colorful products. Just as they crossed the entrance announcing THE GOBLIN MARKET in firemoss, a blue man with long arms and a top hat shouted at them to get closer. He sold animal plushies with button eyes, from rabbits and teddy bears to wyverns and manticores.

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February eyes the plushies with keen interest, "They're cute."

"Aren't you a little old for stuffed animals?" He asked her.

A few seconds passed, during which only the sound of haggling customers, shouting sellers and the occasional product that grunted or shouted.

"Yes," she said, "You're right." She didn't change expressions.

October caught the flash of disappointment in her eyes anyway.

They went from stand to stand, picking up all the things October could remember were needed. They bought sweet smelling apples, bear meat and blue rose tea. A bunch of clothing for February. And a pair of round glasses, of course. He would have bought her a new umbrella, but she refused.

She also refused, very insistently, to go into the incense shop.

"If I go inside there I'll puke," she said, "It stinks from outside here."

I sure hope Thymette hasn't heard that, thought October. No doubt, the incense merchant would refuse even the most generous pay if she felt her work had been insulted, "All right, okay. Stay here. But don't move, understood?"

He entered the tent and a thousand perfumes, mostly herbal, fought for his attention. Like always, rosemary was winning, much to his chagrin. The scent was familiar... and bittersweet.

"~Humbra hum,

Humbra hum-larum

I dyed my shawl a vermilion red

And I went down to pay my debt

Before I found my lover lying dead~"

"Hello, Thymette."

The singing woman, with wood-brown skin whose hair was a tangled mess of herbs, turned around. The dark green cloth, covering her eyes and the scarring October had only seen once, wrinkled when she smiled, showing a row of enviable white teeth.

"Hi, Crow Wizard. Back for something to ward off bad luck?"

"Yeah."

Thymette turned once more and began rummaging through her wares with delicate fingers, "I'll get your usual stuff ready. By the way, is that old gray thing still standing? People say they saw a star fall close to it."

"Don't worry. Nothing happened." He said quickly.

"Hmm," she stopped moving around the shop. When she returned to October, she carried the incenses he usually brought home and her lips were pursed in that way they did when she was thinking, "Sure thing."

October tensed. Why didn't he want Thymette to know about February? He knew she was trustworthy. She knew what the deal with the Void fairy that gave him magic entailed. So why didn't he feel like sharing the facts with her?

"See you around, Thymette," he said, grabbing the incense and storing it in the enchanted pocket of his coat, "Er, sorry."

She laughed it off, "Don't worry. Have a good day and take care of falling stars."

When he got out, February, to his relief, was still there. But she held a box.

He opened his mouth to ask about it, and she interrupted with a smile, "I found skuid. Or, at least, I think it is. The man called it squid too, and said they came from the sea, but they look like skuids. So, I bought some."

October frowned, "With what money, exactly?"

She reached to the ground and picked up a dry leaf. She closed her fist around it, then opened it. In place of the leaf, a gold coin reflected the myriad colors of the surrounding stands.

Oh, no. I should have seen this coming. Now, how do I explain it to her?

For the second time that day, he kneeled in front of the girl. He tried not to think of how his clothes had only collected dirt since the day began, "I know your mother probably never told you this but, tricking people with fairy gold isn't very nice."

"Oh."

"Yes, because it's like-"

"Don't worry, I think I know why."

"Very well," He let out a breath, "We've finished for today. Let's go home, have lunch, and then I'll show you your room."

They made their way back through the Market. The blue man was still there, but he seemed to be storing his toys, preparing to close for lunchtime.

February's eyes fixed there once more, unaware that October was looking at her in return.

"Hey," he said, "Here, have this and buy one before he closes."

He showed her a gold coin. A real gold coin.

Her eyes went wide, "But you said I was too old for them."

"I think you're old enough to decide that on your own, kid."

She smiled. He was becoming very fond of seeing her smile.

A moment later, February came back with a golden wyvern plushie with little purple buttons for eyes, hugged to her with the arm that didn't hold the umbrella.

"He didn't have dragons?" He asked her.

"He did. But after meeting a real one, they kind of paled in comparison."

"I'm sure Lerrelth would love to hear that." He chuckled and patted her shoulder lightly.