The blonde girl in overalls isn't there when I turn the corner. The wind grows furious, rattling signs and threatening to steal my gown away. Clouds, dark and angry, hang overhead. Waves slosh violently against the shore. I must've only been in Bluebell's workshop for fifteen or so minutes. How could the weather have changed so abruptly?
Then again, there’s a blizzard on the other side of the hills. This place is ridiculous!
I drag the wagon back up the main street, walking by the Blossom Water Tavern. It's much livelier now with a crowd inside, the reptile horses tied up outside. I wonder if they mind the rain that's about to come. Probably not. Maybe they’re amphibians. They snort and glance at me.
The wagon glides swiftly and silently over the dirt road. I keep glancing behind me to make sure it's still there; the red coloring sticks out beautifully in the rundown town. But that also sends a jolt of panic into my belly. Shiny things attract attention.
Better get this food and chair back to Kivuli's quickly. I don't want any trouble, and I don't want the food to spoil or for the rain to ruin the chair. I can't imagine having to come back and explain that to Bluebell who'd already been so kind to me.
A stronger breeze crashes into me from behind, as though it’s trying to push me out of town. Yeah, I’m trying to leave. The sky's darkening at a furious rate, and I start jogging, awkwardly holding the handle and pulling the wagon along. The letter opener is in my other hand. Just in case.
I hurry by the collapsed buildings, grateful that the town is much emptier now. I glimpse Kivuli's mom through the grocery windows, she’s taking down one of the rabbit carcasses, but the handsome fur-covered man with antlers is gone.
In front of it, and partially blocking the road, is a large caravan. Two of those reptile horses are hitched to it, and it's like a giant wagon with a white covering stretched over.
Men climb off the creatures' backs. They unload some cargo, and it all seems very busy. They’re big, mustachioed men in heavy coats, but I can’t tell if they just have naturally mean faces. I spot women too. Sitting inside the caravan, dressed up in layers and hats, holding children. They look rather sad, but when they glimpse me, they squint and grow suspicious. One of them turns away, holding a baby feeding from her breast. It’s not like I’m going to bite. Do I really look that feral?
But these women aren’t as glamorously dressed as the women I saw before. They look like they could use some money, and I wonder if I could get a seat on that caravan in exchange for my silver. Wherever they're going. I could sleep on the floor or something. I don't know. I lower my hand and press the letter opener to the sack of coins. I haven't spent any yet. Maybe I could...
But where would I even go? I sigh, shaking my head and trying not to think about them staring at my hair, when the woman who’d been nursing her baby steps off the carriage, clutching her baby with both arms, carefully taking each step down the ramp. One of the men brings a large suitcase out and places it beside her without sparing her a second glance. A toddler follows her out, and as soon as the kid's off the carriage, the man picks up the ramp, seemingly in a rush to get going.
But as soon as the woman leaves the shade of the carriage, I realize she’s pink. Not pink like someone’s been in the sun too long and needs ointment, but pink like bubblegum. The wind rattles her bonnet. Her eyes are wide and green and expressive as she takes in her surroundings. Strands of brown hair come loose, and she looks flustered as she holds her bundled baby. There’s another kid too. This one’s a toddler, but I can’t tell if it’s a boy or a girl, but it’s just as pink as the woman. It’s got short curly hair and wide green eyes so big, I feel like its face is 90% eyes.
The woman is taller than I am and her many layered grey dress looks rather nice if a little bit worn. The toddler’s in a grey collared shirt and pants, and for some reason, I get the sense that these are their Sunday best. Like they’re going to church.
Holding the baby to her chest, the woman looks at me skeptically. And I stare back even though I know it’s rude. But also... what the heck am I doing standing here? I hate it when people gawk at me. I should just keep going. This isn’t my business.
I nod, trying for some modicum of politeness after staring so hard, and then turn to keep walking down Main Street. But she smiles.
And it’s not just some polite smile, like the smiles I’d get when people tried to talk with me, full of pity and discomfort and the desire to get the hell out of the conversation as quickly as possible. I can always tell with those kinds of smiles. But this woman’s smile was genuine. Laced with sadness and anxiety and hope. The hope that only kind people can express. And I know right away she needs help.
“Excuse me?” she calls out.
I stop, thinking about the storm, thinking about how I need to hurry back, but she’s shuffling toward me already. And I’d already been rude by staring. The least I could do was hear her out and tell her I didn’t know anything about this place.
“Good morning,” she says when she catches up. She’s about a head taller than me. And up close, her skin looks shockingly pink. Her gown fits loosely on her, and I wonder if she’s as thin as I am. Against her chest, her baby starts fussing. She bounces it gently in her arms, whispering that it’s alright. The toddler’s sticking to her leg like a koala, but it’s staring at me.
They all look ragged. Thin and sickly and tired like they’d been traveling for a while without much food or water, and this didn’t seem like a world for women to be traveling alone with two young kids. Then again, find me a world where that would be safe.
“Can I help you?” I ask, putting on my automatic customer service voice. They don’t seem threatening or dangerous. But then again, they’re a woman, a toddler, and a baby. Why am I so paranoid? Is it cause she’s pink?
Am I being racist?
If anything, they should be paranoid about me. I’m holding a letter opener.
The woman sighs. Behind her, the carriage is pulling away. They’d just been dropping her off. I realize it wasn't suspicion on her face that I saw before. It was dread. She looks strained with worry. “We just arrived,” she says. “From Lashfarna. And my son is hungry.” She placed a hand on the toddler’s head.
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Ah, it’s a boy. I really need to check my assumptions. It’s so ingrained that pink is for girls and blue is for boys.
I nod like I understand her plight. “Yeah, I just got here too.”
“Do you know where we can find food? A place to sleep? I don’t have much money, but I can work. I can clean and cook. And we only need a few nights till a boat comes. Then we can go to Isohet.” She says the name of the place with brightening eyes like it’s some magical new world.
So, she’s uprooting her kids and trying to get to another place? Did something happen? It’s just them, their one suitcase, and the clothes on their backs. I swallow hard, wishing they’d asked anyone but me for help. But looking around, the storm just about ready to collapse, nobody else was around to ask.
The carriage had already turned a corner and vanished. I glance down at the boy who hadn’t stopped staring at me. His face looks like his mother’s, and it’s just as thin. They have the same green eyes, but hers are sunken with dark rings, and I recognize something.
It’s a look I’d seen in my sister’s face. When she couldn't stop throwing up. When she was afraid but wouldn’t tell anyone. When she wouldn’t eat for days just so she wouldn’t make too much of a mess. It’s hunger and guilt.
They... they didn’t want to leave. They’re running from something. Or to something.
What am I supposed to do? Can I take them back to the lighthouse? No. That would intrude on Kivuli. But... I pull out the sack of silvers. Kivuli had given it to me to spend on a bunch of stuff, but I’d gotten the chair for free. And she’d even suggested I pay my way out of Blossom Water, right? So she was okay with losing it all.
And this woman and her kids needed it way more than I did. “You can buy food there,” I tell her, holding out the sack and nodding toward the market.
She stares at it. Her lips wobble. But she shakes her head. “I cannot accept charity. My husband works very hard in Isohet and soon we’ll be with him.”
Huh. “Alright,” I say, lowering my hand. “Do you guys have enough to rent a place?” How much did a place even cost?
The woman presses her lips tight and lowers her gaze to my sandals.
I wonder how much anything really costs here. Their currency was silver. How did that convert to money back home? What’s the cost of food and clothing? Or did people go around hunting for food?
I can’t imagine this woman hunting. She looks like she’s ready to collapse at any moment, and once it starts raining... what if she gets sick? What if her kids get sick?
And then I have an even more worrisome thought. The baby isn’t pink. It’s blueish. It has a pale blue face peeking out from the blanket folds. And it has brown eyes... Something tells me there was drama that she’s trying to run from, but I don’t want to pry.
How do you even ask someone something like that? And what if I’m wrong and the babies just look like that? Wrinkly and blue and gross... like all babies.
“Look, how about this?” I glance around at the empty street. “You take this silver and look after your kids. And then once you get to your husband, you can pay me back.”
She blinks a few times. Her eyes water, but her face relaxes, and she’s looking at me like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like I’m a bank or something and about to charge her interest. She sniffles and whispers, “Thank you.”
I point her again to the market. “The woman in there might be more help than me. She could probably set you up somewhere. Or something. I don’t know. But at least you can get food there. And she just looks scary. But she’s nice. Trust me.”
The woman holds the sack carefully, snot running down her lips. “Thank you, massina,” she says. Massina. Then she bows. An awkward bow while holding the crying baby. And she says something sharp under her breath, and the toddler bows too.
“I uh... that’s not necessary,” I mumble, heat rising to my face. But I don’t wanna be rude. So, I bow back.
Thunder crackles overhead, and the toddler cries. The woman bows again, crying and saying thank you, thank you, and they rush down the street to the market.
I grab the wagon and start marching away again, wondering how she’d ever get the money back to me. Would she just address it to the town and say, “Get it to that skinny girl who looks kinda sickly”? That’d probably work, right? It’s not till I get to the edge of Blossom Water that I remember the hanging carcasses in the market. Is that going to frighten the boy? Then again, he looked really hungry.
Then again, I’m hungry. My stomach growls, and I figure I'll need all my strength to get back up the hills to the cliff. I still have about a quarter of the mushroom that Kivuli gave me, and I'm just about to bite some more off, when an orange streak blurs out of the trees ahead, darting right at me.
"Hey!" I shout, backing up so that my shins slam into the wagon. Sitting at my feet, patiently staring up at me with its tongue hanging out, is a glowing orange fox that almost looks like it’s made of fire in the gloomy storm.
Its ears are white, and they flick back and forth. A large bushy tail wags in the air, fluffy and orange. It's the kind of orange that reminds you of fresh fruit in a magical painting or something. Eerily beautiful, but there's a mischievous look on the fox's face. But don't all foxes look mischievous?
"Hello?" I say, hesitantly, wondering what it wants from me. I want to touch the creature. I want to be that beautiful too.
It blinks like it understands me. Then sniffs, its black nose finding the chunk of food in my hand. I guess that's what it wants. It's hungry, too.
My stomach growls, but I figure it won't leave me alone if I don't give it the snack. I cut through the mushroom with the letter opener and offer it half.
The fox stares, tail swishing behind it. Its orange eyes meet mine as if asking, are you sure? And then I remember the sign. Don’t feed the fox spirit.
But the creature looks harmless and cute. Is this even a fox spirit? Besides, what could go wrong? Is it like how back home they tell you not to feed stray cats or raccoons cause they’ll follow you home? Would that be so bad here? I look around and, seeing nobody else and feeling the storm about to break any moment now, I decide to give the fox some food. What’s the worst that can happen? And if I can get it to relax... I really, really want to acquire it.
It snaps up the chunk and darts away before I can make contact, vanishing between the trees like a flicker of lightning.
Did I just get jacked? I smile a little, pretending I’m a fox too, rushing away with food in my mouth. Then my eyes go wide as a notification fills my head.
[Job Instated: Mayor of Blossom Water]
I stare at the spot where the fox disappeared. The words hang in my head as heavily as the storm clouds. Low and rumbling. Panic rises like a tidal wave. What the heck? Did it trick me?
And now I'm the mayor? Me? Me? I'm trembling as I raise the other chunk of mushroom and stare at it. That was all it took? For
Oh god.
I angrily eat the rest of the mushroom, my thoughts spiraling. Don't feed the fox spirit. I'm so stupid. It's literally written on the damn sign over there. Welcome to Blossom Water. I gnash my teeth. I kick the road, and my slip-on nearly flies off. Mayor? Mayor Sam? Me?
My heart sinks into my stomach. I turn back to look at the town, trembling, wondering if I can cancel it somehow, and I flinch.
"Hello there, stranger," says a musical voice. It's the blonde woman from before, the one only wearing overalls that show off her bare shoulders and chest. A straw hat sits crooked on her head, and there's a huge smile on her face. She's riding one of those reptile horses, coming right at me with an entourage of burly men behind her on foot.