Before the sun had risen, she awoke. Pushing off her blanket, and dressing herself, she headed down the ladder to her workstation. A large lady of The Placidium had brought a large feathered loppe last night, and as always it had fallen to Syndra to care for it. The beast, unlike its owner, took surprisingly little space, considering their stature. Whilst the creature still slept, she took the tray from yesterday's meal and brought inside. As always Semmis was wide awake, removing yesterday’s dirty cups and trays. She placed the tray on the table, and awaited instructions. She took seat and ran her hands across eachother. It was getting cold these days. It compared not to her homestead, yet the cold would still bite when the wind proved vicious. The numbness brought by cold was strangely comforting. Mesmerized by the fluid motions of the elderly cleaner. No motion made without purpose. Watching him work was as watching a mill grind, a river's flow, spokes on a wheel. Rhythmic and certain. Minutes passed, and Semmis threw the rag over his shoulder and walk to Syndra. He opened his hand palm up, and she did the same. In her palm he placed a pouch and a note. Having done this before she closed her hand around the small leather pouch. As she turned Semmis grabbed her shoulder and looked into her eyes with a deep warm smile. He moved his outstretched index finger across his lips. His gaze quickly overwhelmed her and she looked away. He returned to his cleaning and looked at the girl leaving through the front door of the tea house, into the calm and cloudless sky. Syndra moved through the open streets and empty stalls. At this hour few had opened. You had to know which fishermen that came back first, the herbalists that opened at the earliest. She was headed directly for the harbour. With the early morning sun as her guide, she spotted for the fisherman's first catch. A dingy pulled onto land and tied by a weathered middle-aged man. He lifted a basket of catch onto the shore, and called out to the child, making her way across the sand. "Mornin' girl. What'll it be today?" Syndra's pace increased until they were only a few steps from eachother. She mechanically unfurled the paper and handed the paper to the sailor. He took it. Read it. Raised his eyes to the courier he had seen every morning for the last few weeks. He studied her, but she seemed oblivious to its message. He handed it back to her and without a word lugged the basket onto one broad shoulder and walked past her. Syndra stood in disbelief, mouth agape looking after the man.

She opened the letter and instead of the usual number next to some scribbles, there was a small doodle of a stick figure, some coins, and a wrapped package. Syndra could read very little, but recognised her own name. Syllable by syllable she tried sounding out the words. "Gift for Syndra". Stunned. She remained at the forlorn beach by the empty boat. A lump formed in her throat. She clutched the pouch, which had suddenly increased its weight tenfold. She pushed it towards her chest as if her heart would leak between her ribs. A sob broke through, then another. Until she could no longer contain herself. Quickly she ran between the rocks. Searching for a place where she could collapse in peace. The rain drenched Syndra. It had woken her from her rest she had wept herself into. Afterwards she had pulled herself out She had thought about what she'd want to buy with the money she had been given. In the end she had passed hats, trinkets, food, and clothing. She could not bear to buy anything. It did not feel right. The dark clouds' payload remained ignored for the hours she meandered up and down the shops and stalls that remained open despite the weather. With every item she chose not to buy, the coins seemed to grow heavier and heavier. In the end she stopped by the tea house once more. Returning with the pouch fuller than when she received it. The familiar creak of the wood made her presence known to the couple. Each existing in harmony as they worked separately on cleaning and cooking. Semmis dropped the broom the moment he saw the soppy figure in the doorway. He quickly rushed to her and knelt to wipe the long wet hair out of her face. Tucking the mess behind her red ear. Syndra pulled away and put the pouch forward. Semmis took the sack, and realized it was as full as when she left. He looked back at the cook, who looked upon the scene with concern. He pushed it back towards her, forcing her a step back. Immediately realizing his mistake, he moved his hands back. "I don't want it" Syndra held it out once more. "I don't want it!" She repeated, louder this time. Throwing the folded leather on the ground. The strings gave way, and the many coins tumbled and rolled across the floor. Syndra stormed out once more into the raging winds and heavy rain. On her way out she vaguely heard Semmis' other half asking: "What was that all about?". Slamming the door on her way out, she made her way to the stables. The large, lazy animal was still present. The creature lazily regarded the little angry biped, but as long as it remained fed it would not protest. Syndra pushed the mountain of muscle and feathery hide, to no avail, her hands sinking deep into prickly duvet. She leaned all of her weight against its flank, in impotent weakness. Put her fist toward it, again and again, which barely provoked a glance from the large creature. She took a deep, ragged breath. She breathed out and put her face against her newfound solidary companion. She unclenched her fists, letting her taught muscle relax once more. Tears and snot staining the multi-coloured creature. She felt a heavy tuck at her collar and was thrown back by the owner of the beast. The lady towered over her. Her garbs thick for the weather and heavy with rainwater. A hilt showed its head at her waist. “What do you think you’re doing? You should feel honored to have this mighty creature stashed at your hobble of an establishment. You are not worthy of being his caretaker!” She took a step toward the child. Syndra lay back first on the ground inside the covering. She put her hands on the ground, pushing herself up, directly into the large brown boot. The woman stepped on her chest, pushing her back down, and pushing air out of her lungs. Unfocused through watery eyes and burning cheeks. She blinked, clearing her eyes, and glared up. “You think you have fight? You think you have guts? You are weak.” She spat the last sentence. “You couldn’t thro-“ her tirade was interrupted as she was lifted from her feet and tossed out of the barn. A push of air ripped at the trough. The beast struggled against its restraints; a desperation had gripped it. Force pushed outward, a storm without wind. The warrior stood, and gripped for her sword, before she once more was pushed back, the blade ripped from her hands by a force unseen. Her steed ripped the wooden paddock, carrying the histing rail behind it, as it fled down the street. His master clambering back to a standing position. She looked into the barn, which had darkened. Inside was the little child, floating amongst swirling hay, water and bits of wood. Taking her queue to leave, the warrior bounded down the street after her wayward mount. The door to the teahouse slammed open, and Semmis limped out. In shock, mouth agape he identified the source of the crashing. In the middle of the swirling madness floated a small girl, swathed in darkness. With little care, he ran as fast as his old legs could carry him, to the aid of Syndra. In a blast of energy, he was pushed back. Semmis landed heavily, unmoving. Panic gripped the child, clutching her tightly. The boisterous tea-pourer was by the side of the fallen in a flash. Syndra took a deep breath, and as she breathed out, she lowered herself to the ground. The swirling slowed, objects clattering. Assessing the damage, Syndra stole another look toward her hosts, who stared with eyes she had gotten used to feeling. Awe, confusion, but especially fear. “Sorry” she muttered, allowing no feeling to well. She lifted the bent ladder to the loft, and crawled away, into the darkness of the upper floor, where she would remain awake for many ours. She remained there, undisturbed. Semmis did not arrive with a tray as he usually would. That night, she slept alone.

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