The first thing Osana recognized was a fruity sweet aroma drifting from a market stall a head of her. An old woman, with a crooked back, sat on a stool sliding a cast iron pan over a small fire pit. Peeking over the heads of the children, she watched the contents swirl. Sending another wave the intoxicating aroma to her nose. The woman stirred the thick syrupy fruit then sprinkled cinnamon over it. Then, taking a large wooden spoon she poured it into a boy’s waiting bowl.

With each spoonful she licked her lips, anticipating the dessert. She was almost in the front of the line when it dawned on her. Her hands were empty. All the children in line had the same red clay bowl. It wasn't a coincidence; she then noticed the rickety wooden stall beside her. On the countertop stood towers of the identical bowls. Sitting on a stool under the yellow canopy was a young woman taking coins from a child in exchange for the coveted item.

Kelani once told her it was called currency. Mortals used coins in exchanged for desired items. She watched the parents present the coins, the child received a bowl, but then the stand owner handed the parent another coin.

“If she already has coins, then why does she need more?”

She creeped beside the stand, hiding out of sight, observing another transaction. He handed her one coin, and then she handed him a smaller one, and the child ran off with a bowl. Osana frowned, determining the stall owner was greedy. Especially taking the larger coin and only giving a small one in return. If mortals were as greedy as that woman was, then they need a stern talking to from Papa.

Her self-righteous indignation would have to wait, since the fact remained; she had no coin and no bowl. Her stomach grumbled, rippling through her belly button. Kelani told her to behave, to not take things that didn’t belong to her. But was it wrong if she took something from a greedy woman?

She set her jaw and went into action. When another customer approached the counter, she crouched around the corner. Her fingers tapped the counter until they nudged the stack of bowls. With a bit of luck and quick hands, she plucked the top bowl without knocking the rest over.

A smile grew on her face. Her mouth was watering at the thought of the morsel of dessert she was about to consume. She stood in line, behind a child shorter than her and waited. Her excitement bubbled as she inched closer to the woman with the spoon.

Watching the blob of gooey sweetness drip in her bowl made her hop with joy. But the woman at the counter shrieked, angrily pointing at her. She didn’t understand her dialect, but her expression was clear. Stop!

A man ripped her bowl from her hand and the adults turned on her. They circled her, trapping her like a hare. Shouted, holding their hands out for coins she owed, even the children cried. Their anger festered in her chest, her heart raced, and she glanced around for an escape.

Their voices boomed, drowning her under their protest. She sought freedom. An air pocket and refuge. A gap in a man's legs, was as good as any. Throwing herself to the sand, she squirmed between his ankles until she was out from under the crowd. The demanding woman chased her, screeching for her money but Osana didn’t look back. Something hard hit her head. A wayward rock zoomed past her. The old biddy's throwing rocks.

An impatient bleating caught her attention. A pen of stout woolly horned sheep called to each other from inside. A group of shoppers walked towards her, taking the chance, she sped through the middle causing the pursuer to collide with them. In the commotion she slipped into the pen; no one the wiser. Except for the sheep, the deemed her presence was a great offense.

Their snorting stirred their feet into action. Soon they were stomping, pushing, and squeezing her against the fence. One was dead set on flattening her to pebbles. His horns had the largest curl, and he wasn't shy about using them. The timber behind her cracked, she flung her arms around a sheep’s soft body. Wrestling against his bucking until she was on his back. The others, too caught up in the frenzy to notice, charged their pen. The timber crumbled and, their freedom to tempting to ignore, unleashed the stampede.

Her valiant steed led the herd through the unexpecting streets. Chaos ensued, tents and food carts fell victim to their hooves. Parent’s plucked small children from the streets carrying them to the safety of the fountains. Osana didn’t know where they were heading, but she spied the Oracle’s temple a head of them and thought it was a good a place as any. She motioned for her sheep to stop. But he refused. Panic set in. She tugged, kicked, but the sheep only protested and ran faster. Ahead of her, a familiar form peeked from the crowd.

“Lani! Get out of the way! Lani!" She closed her eyes, anticipating the impact that didn’t come. The sheep raced past, she looked back, to see a girl in red, pull her sister from the fountain. “Sorry!”

The sheep veered to the left, separating itself from the herd. In its frantic state, it headed to the steps of the canyon shops. At the last minute Osana jumped off and landed in the prickly bushes. She watched in horror as a large man confronted the animal. Him and a few others tossed ropes around his neck and feet. After the commotion subsided, she dusted the dirt from her clothes and decided to leave the area before anything else happened.

She was on the lookout for the greedy woman with the rocks, but soon gave up when a group of people started to sing. They meandered through the street handing out ribbons. They wore bright coloured clothes with gold and silver sashes across their chest. No hoods, but the women's hair had flakes of gold and flower petals. The men had gold earrings, some with chains connecting to their eyebrows or nose. They handed her a ribbon, a beautiful emerald cloth with silver letters stitched on to it. She couldn’t read their language, but she thought it was pretty and stuffed it in her bag. She followed them, as they sang upbeat songs.

They led her back to the temple, which seemed to be where most of the people gathered. She hummed the song as she explored the tent area. While people waited in line to see the Oracle, there were groups of people celebrating in white tents a few meters away from the entrance. Where aromas of food and liquor, made her mouth water and her empty stomach gurgle.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Being wary of the greedy ones, she concealed herself with her magic, before slipping inside. Everyone inside were dress in finer clothes than anyone else she saw that day. Sprawling over long tables was piles of food on golden trays. Men and woman drank from golden cups and talked amongst themselves as musicians played from the tent corner.

She approached the table, but before she could choose a dessert, a man in white robes caught her eye. He had silver hair, cold grey eyes, and carried himself with an air of authority that was off putting. He was talking quietly with fair haired man with rounded glasses perched on his nose. From the contempt the man was trying to hide, she knew their conversation wasn’t going to end well. The younger man, struggled to keep his voice low, and when she heard the frustration in his tone, the older man raised a hand indicating the conversation was over.

There was a courteous bow before the younger man left, but she saw the set jaw and the anger flash in his eyes. The thought of following him crossed her mind. But then she remembered the snacks on the table. With her treasures tucked safely inside her bag she wandered around noting the flower petals over the rugs. Laughing in one tent drew her attention and she went to investigate. Inside was a group of teenagers about her age dressed in brown robes with black trim. While the group laughed and stuffed their faces with fruit and dates from the nearby table a girl stood off to the side with her back to the group.

Her hair was as black as coal and reached the bottom of her chin. She was pale, with thin lips and dark eyes. But the scowl on her face caused Osana to pause. Every face she’d seen that day had a smile. The atmosphere was light and bubbly, the sound of celebration flooded the air. But none of it reached this girl. It was too nice of a day for someone to not celebrate. She broke her enchantment with the hope she could help the mortal enjoy herself. She approached her, digging into her pocket and offering her a spice loaf.

“Are you hungry?”

The girl glanced at her, clutching her arms around her chest. She glanced back at the group before speaking in a hushed tone.

“How did you get in here?”

“You don’t seem to be having fun, I thought you could use a treat to make you feel better.”

“Where did you get that!” she gasped, “you got it from over there didn’t you?” she nodded towards the direction Osana had come.

“It’s a piece of spice loaf.”

“What’s this Rebekah?” A girl with a brown braid sneer. “Got yourself a little friend.”

“Oh look, she brought you a snack. How cute,” another boy added.

“Well go on, take it. It’s the least you can do.”

“She stole it from the Council’s tent.” Rebekah said through gritted teeth. “She’s a thief.”

“Why do people keep calling me that.”

“Just go,”

“Awe Rebekah don’t be so mean to your friend. Why don’t you eat the loaf. What harm will it do.” The girl laughed before turning away to talk to the others. Rebekah squeezed herself staring at her polished leather shoes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” she reached out to soothe her, putting her hand on her shoulder.

Animosity. It cut through her like a bolt of lightning. She didn't like that emotion; it churned her insides and made her uncomfortable. She looked closer at Rebekah’s face; everything from her breathing to her body was tense. Controlled. This girl carried a lot of anger inside but judging by her exterior no one would notice. Her neutral appearance put her on edge. Her magic warmed inside her veins mimicking the girl’s resentment.

She never felt such anger before. She wondered what this mortal was capable of. She slipped out of sight, finding a perch near the tent to observe the girl from a safe distance. She didn’t interact with the others but watched the adults in the other tent. Her hand slipped into the pocket of her uniform. She fiddled with something inside which piqued Osana’s attention.

“Rebekah!” barked a man from the next tent. She jumped, yanking her hand from her pocket, and darted to the voice. The man in white robes from earlier handed her a note which she placed in the other pocket before exiting.

Osana followed, she needed to apologize again, needed to make sure she understood she didn't mean any harm. But Rebekah didn't idle, she went to her task as if her life depended on it. She delivered the note but instead of returning as instructed, she went to the market district. She slipped into the thick of the crowds, trying to follow her target. Rebekah walked with purpose, weaving between the shoppers and lines with ease. She slipped into a narrow alley, but Osana picked up her trail. To her relief Rebekah stopped in front of a run-down building on a quiet deserted street.

The sign read Mrs. Knaggs Pawn Shop. The lopsided building was jammed between a brothel and a boarding house bearing the same owner’s name. Rebekah clenched her jaw and pulled a small metal box from her pocket. After steeling her nerves, she steps inside. Osana followed her into the dusty cluttered store. The bookcases blocked most of the light from the dirty windows. Items were so crammed into the shelves that it felt like they would tumble off them and bury her. Rebekah tiptoed to the counter, the uneven floorboards creaking under her shoes.

A door from the back room burst opened, and a woman emerged from the dust and cobwebs with an armful of mysterious bottles. Her knotted dark hair sprung from her head at different angles. Thick make up caked her aging face in a veiled attempt to make herself look younger. Her dress was of lace and frills but looked like she tried to squeeze herself into it. She placed the bottles on the floor before taking her place behind the desk.

“What can I do for you dearie?” Rebekah placed her frugal box on the desk, sliding it towards her.

“I have these to sell.” Mrs. Knaggs unclasped the lock and pulled the items out looking at them with a disinterested eye. She rhymed off a number and Osana felt the air leave the room. “That’s not enough!”

“What do you expect me to do? These things are the odds and ends, you probably picked them off the floor. No one wants one spoon, dearie. You give me tiny pieces I give you tiny prices.”

“But I need this money, I was counting on more.”

“We all want more; doesn’t mean we all get it. Take the money Dovey or leave it.” Rebekah didn't answer, her mouth twisted as she decided what to say. “You won’t find a place that will pay that price for crap like this. I guarantee you that.” Finally, she nodded, and Mrs. Knaggs dropped the brass coins into her calloused hand. “That’s a good girl.”

“What will it take to get a better deal?”

“Easy lovie, start stealing me something good and you’ll get the money you need to get out.”

“Out?”

“That’s what you want right? Do you think you’re the first Innocent to walk into this shop wanting extra money to pay the Ferryman? Seats don’t come cheap; you know better than me that Innocent’s like you don’t leave this kingdom alive. But don’t worry dearie," her mouth twisted into a sickly-sweet grin, “I’ll keep your secret.”