IV

A week dragged by at a snails pace for Wren. He spent the time restlessly laying in his hospital bed, staring out the tiny window opposite of him at the courtyard beyond. The food, while at least somewhat better than the trail rations he endured in the wagon, grew old very fast. Every day it was the same thing: an over cooked egg and thin oatmeal for breakfast, a watery stew with bland meat chunks and potatoes for lunch, and for supper it was a toss up between old smoked meat or dried fish, some wilted vegetables, and a day old piece of bread. It was enough to fill him, but provided no joy in eating.

He rotated his left arm, feeling out the stiffness that remained in his shoulder. He had undergone three sessions of bone knitting from the healer, which had worked surprisingly well at returning his mobility. However, each session was the most painful experience of his life. As it turns out, healing magic isn't at all like he imagined it did when he was younger, reading about in tales of mighty heroes. Essentially, a healer will cause the body to begin repairing whatever is damaged at a much faster rate than normally possible. what this means is that as Wrens fractured collar bone reset itself to where it should be, and the shattered pieces rejoined themselves like a puzzle, he felt every bit of it. The nurses had given him a mild numbing tonic, but even still, he dug his teeth fiercely into the leather bit they had given him, and screamed until his throat was ragged. Thankfully, he was finished. His ribs and collar bone were together as they should be, and no longer pained him, besides an occasional dull ache and some stiffness. They told him that by the start of the week, he could leave the infirmary, and take his place in the orphanage.

The thought of the orphanage still plunged him into depression. He had spoke to a few other kids, although the nurses made sure to not let them linger. From what he was told, its not the happiest place in the kingdom. The kids are separated roughly by age, and are looked after by a caretaker, with a senior caretaker in charge of them all. Everyone is assigned jobs, except for the youngest. While the caretakers are there to keep order, and ensure the wellbeing of everyone, there doesn't seem to be much of a family feel to it. Often, fights break out, and the oldest still living in the orphanage have taken to bullying everyone else. These things did nothing to brighten Wrens outlook of his new home.

To make matters even worse, he had yet to see Lira at all. He frequently asked the nurses about his sister, but they more often than not had nothing more to tell him that what he already knew. She was being kept in a different wing. She was healthy, with her physical injuries completely healed, but she still has not woken. A special healer has apparently been assigned to her. One who's trained in some kind of mental magic Wren knew nothing about. Despite this, they claim she will awaken. By this point worry had burrowed deep enough into his stomached it may as well be a parasite, sucking everything out of him. The frustration of it gnawed at him relentlessly.

The squeak of the double doors announced someone had entered the wing, and the clack of shoes on the hard tile floor told him it was a nurse. Sure enough, a young women in a white dress and apron rounded the little cloth divider, carrying his supper on a tray. She set it across his lap, and gave him a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Dried fish. Again. This time though, Wren noticed a little paper cube sitting next to his bread. Noticing his expression, the Nurse said," a treat, something we give all patience's for their last night here."

Wren thanked her, and completely forgot to ask about his sister as she walked away. He unwrapped the little cube and found something hard and light brown, almost golden. He gave it a sniff, then popped it in his mouth. His eyes lit up. Caramel! The last time he had some was a year ago, the last time they visited the markets. He closed his eyes and let the sweet flavor take him back. He could almost hear the busy market, and smell the food stalls. The memory was tainted with sorrow, but the sweetness was thankfully overpowering. He scooted the food tray off his lap, and lay it on the floor, near his bedpan. There was no way he could possibly eat that after such flavors. Perhaps, maybe, once he's out of the infirmary, he could find a way to stash enough money to regularly enjoy such treats.

He let this innocent thought carry on until once again the doors creaked, and a pair of nurses entered. They one by one walked down the wing, putting out the torches. Another nurse took his food tray, frowning at the uneaten food. Wren continued to lay there, cherishing his memories and childish fantasy, until the sweet was gone, and he peacefully drifted off.

The next morning, Wren was awoken earlier than normal. The sky was pink but the sun had yet to rise above the hills. A tall wiry man in a white tunic and brown pants stood at the foot of his bed with a nurse. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he stared down at Wren past his hooked nose.

He looks like a cranky raven. Thought Wren sleepily.

"My name is Edric, I will be the caretaker in charge of you at the orphanage. Please get dressed and meet me outside the wing. And be quick about it, we need to get back before I can take everyone to breakfast."

Yep, a cranky raven.

The nurse set some folded clothes on the bed, then pulled shut the curtain. Wren scooted out of bed and looked at what he had been given. An off-white tunic, obviously a hand-me-down, brown pants, and worn soft leather shoes. Wren sighed, and began getting dressed.

Although he didn't take long at all, when he opened the doors at the end of the all, Edric let out a huff.

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"About time. I was wondering if you were even going to come at all."

Wren mumbled an apology and scampered off after him, trying to match the tall mans pace. They hurried out of the infirmary building and across the courtyard. Opposed to the night he got here, the courtyard was devoid of life. The overcast sky and empty space seemed like a foreboding sign, as Edric led Wren between two buildings, and further into the compound. After zigzagging their way between buildings and down side streets, they finally arrived.

What looked at first like a simple church, was in fact, his new home. A tall spire was in the center, with long, two-story wings coming out on either side, not unlike the infirmary. a few buildings sat off to the side nearby, as well as a stable with some rather drab, tired looking work horses. Edric produced a key from around his neck and unlocked the front door. A staircase greeted them, but the caretaker led him to a door to the left. Upon opening it, Wren was greeted to a bleak sight.

The long room had bunk beds up against the walls, with a single storage chest on either side. In the center were chairs and a few tables. Near the front was a couple of book cases, stuffed with worn, moldy books. One corner was crammed with old, mostly broken toys. The room had an unpleasant musk to it, like mold, urine, and old mud. Kids around his age were milling about, getting dressed, tidying their space, and generally getting ready for the day. None of them looked particularly happy. Edric rang a bell mounted to the wall and all the kids stopped what they were doing and went silent.

"Line up for breakfast!" Edric called. The kids scurried over into two columns, moving fast, as if to avoid punishment. They stood with their eyes cast down. Edric look at Wren snapped his fingers and pointed to the line. Wren quickly ran to the back of the line. As he passed by, many kids glanced his way, some with curiosity, others with sullen dull eyes. Once Wren was in line, Edric spun on his heel and led them out of the orphanage. The sun had finally crested the distant hills, but did nothing for the chill in the air. They followed him at a rapid pace, striding over mud and through puddles, zig zagging once again between buildings. The layout of the Silverblood compound made no sense to Wren, and he would likely get lost quickly. He was used to open fields and the woods, not navigating tight city streets like this.

Within a couple minutes, the caretaker had led them to another large, long, low building. Smoke emanated from a large chimney set in the center. As they arrived, another column of kids, these ones older, stood outside the building. A large man stood in front of them with a deep frown on his face, his hands on his hips. The door to the building opened, and a tubby boy stumbled out, and got in line. The large caretaker, a vein in his neck visibly popping out, barked something out, and the boy stepped out from the line and hurried to the front. The caretaker Proceeded to berate the boy, cursing him for making them wait, swearing that he was going to punish the entire group for his tardiness.

What the hell is this? Thought Wren, as his line started filling in to the mess hall. This seemed more like some kind of training camp than an orphanage.

Once inside, they walked single file into a massive room, with a kitchen space right in the middle. A giant cooking stove was in the center, with cooks moving about quickly. The kids at the front would grab a wooden bowl, follow the counter that circled all the way around the stoves, and went to sit at a long table cordoned off to the side. When Wren reached the counter, he was disappointed to see the food quality was to match the infirmary. He held out his bowl and a ladle darted out from one of the cooks and plopped some lumpy steaming porridge into it. Moving on, a slice of bred was tossed right on top. Further on, a row of cheese slices was sitting out. Wren grabbed one and set in on the bread slice. He followed the boy in front of him and sat at the end of the long table. We wanted to talk, to finally socialize with someone, but everyone at the table was rapidly stuffing the steaming food into their mouths. Edric walked up to the end of the table.

"Ten Minutes! Don't keep me waiting!" he yelled, then disappeared into the chaos.

Wren mimicked his peers, and started shoveling the porridge down, using the hard bread slice as a spoon. He couldn't say much about the taste, it was hot, and the sense of urgency overrode any possible way to actually enjoy anything.

About halfway through, someone approached his end of the table. Looking up he made eye contact with a boy, perhaps 16. His shaggy hair fell in front of a face covered in pimples, and a cruel smile was on his lips.

"You must be the newest rat. You probably don't know, but there's a tax 'round here." He reached in and plucked the cheese slice out from Wrens bowl. Wren stood up. The kid might be older and bigger than him, but there was no way he was just going to let him take his food, as bad as it was.

Wren stepped over the bench and reached for the cheese, but the kid stepped back and grabbed his wrist.

"What the hell d'ya think yer doin?" Laughed the boy.

Wren opened his mouth to say something back, when suddenly the boy whipped his other hand around, his knuckles catching Wren square in the nose. He tumbled to the floor as his vision went blurry.

"Boy yer gunna learn real quick 'round here." The boy knocked Wrens bowl of half eaten porridge off the table, where it splattered all over the floor, then strode off.

Wren picked himself off the floor, and looked at the table. The other kids didn't even look up from their food. He wiped the blood from his nose and sat back down, staring at the table, tears moistening his eyes, fists clenched. This place was not his new home.