The market at the center of Familia was bustling more than usual. Though the town could hardly be considered large, there were still a fair amount of people out and about as the sun hung lower in the sky. Alyssa had already been sent to the market by Caldir, but her curiosity might have led her there regardless. ‘I can’t manage a trip downtown tonight; my leg’s been acting up,’ he’d told her, like he had time and time again, but she didn’t feel much better. She rubbed her upper arms, still sore from the day’s training and sparring, and she adjusted her tunic when she realized that she’d left her leather shoulder guards on from training. Hoping no one would notice, she continued into the square.

Even on the cobbled path leading down to the town’s main plaza, the pleasant aromas hit her nose; some familiar, and some foreign to her, but not unwelcome. Normally, she would make a point of darting to the vegetable cart first, then to the meat vendor, then to whatever else was required of her; a simple, mostly quiet stroll. However, she could hardly see through the undulating sea of faces, and by the looks of it, the stalls had all changed places. A small jolt of panic gripped her with the thought of having to wade through and find all she needed in time. However, she made an effort to steady herself, swallowing and taking a deep breath; an exercise in clearing her mind of negativity a good friend had taught her, and she pressed in.

Alyssa waited for a gap in the bustling procession before moving forward, ducking her head under an uplifted basket. A basket. She bolted upright, and another pang of anxiety rose up suddenly. She’d forgotten to take a basket along. How was she supposed to carry all the food home, in her arms? She cursed herself for her forgetfulness and glanced around. She was nudged to the side by a small man carrying a large fish under his arm, and something was made clear among the crowd. There was a large yellow banner hanging over the plaza between two long metal poles. Written in bright red paint were the words “Import Market, Today Only”. That explained a lot; the shift in the perfect layout, the variety of new smells, who she assumed was a dwarf in the fully human town of Familia.

She strode up to a stall to find a friendly face. Niko, the young son of the vegetable vendor at only eleven, was doing his best to heave a heavy-looking pumpkin onto the counter. His face lit up and he attempted to wave hello, wobbling from side to side under the weight of the gourd. His mother shook her head and helped him complete his task, even though she looked busy with a customer. The whole family worked behind the table, the mister and missus and their son and daughter, cramped in the tight space they were assigned by the lord of the town. There was a disorderly and quite noisy queue in front of the vendor’s counter, which allowed Alyssa to sneak by undetected.

She waved back to the boy and bent down so her face hovered over the counter, and she asked him if she could have a head of cabbage. He glanced at the people his parents were helping, then back at her. Alyssa pleaded with her eyes. Niko then turned his eyes to the mishmashed line of people impatiently waiting their turn, a look of indecisiveness on his face. Finally, he nodded and quickly produced one from an array of baskets. The cabbage was small and misshapen, and brown around the edges. “Don’t you have any fresher ones?” she asked in a hushed tone.

“That one is fresh; picked it this morning,” said Niko’s mother, Greta, from over her shoulder. Alyssa blushed and stood up. “Produce is still coming up looking like that,” she sighed, “and that’s probably the best looking one of the bunch. Sorry, dear, but this year the crops aren’t how they used to be.” Alyssa nodded understandably, and handed some copper coins over to Greta. She was about to walk away when she felt a small tug on her tunic.

“Going around without a basket? Or is that all you were thinking of buying tonight?”

Alyssa looked down and shook her head. “No, ma'am, I had just forgotten one at the shop. But I can make do without one for now.”

Greta scoffed. She turned around and snatched up one of the baskets holding parsnips, pouring them into a nearly empty box of carrots, and quickly handed it to Alyssa. She only smiled at her before turning back to a pudgy-faced man with his arms crossed. Alyssa could only smile back in thankfulness.

Stolen novel; please report.

The rest of the trip around the market, however, was not as kind to her as Greta had been. She was forced to wait in line at the butcher’s station, and had several people sneak their way in front of her before she finally reached the counter. Gracious that Caldir needed nothing more, she weaved her way through the crowd toward the straight street east, but not before making a quick stop at a local spice vendor.

Often she’d gazed at the colourful and aromatic food spices, hoping to one day make a purchase. Now, she noticed some she didn’t recognize; surely a product of import, as the giant sign flying above her head had mentioned. There was a powder from ground sharf peppers, some exotic blue crystal salt, and something called ‘cumin’. Alyssa didn’t like spicy food very much, but knowing that Caldir did, she decided to buy the sharf powder with what little spending money she had brought for herself.

With all the hubbub at the town square, the cobblestone streets that wound around the town were practically empty. Alyssa sighed in relief. She came to a place where she knew she ought to turn left, but instead chose to continue forward. She could afford one extra trip for a friend. She passed a sullen-looking farmer and noticed a group of three older men playing a game of checkers; two playing, one watching. As she approached them, she couldn’t help but pick up the middle of their conversation.

“... that man from Bagot was talking about. The sick people of their village, the dying crops here… they’re connected.”

One of them scoffed. “How, by magic? It’s a plague and nothing more; if anything, we should keep them all in that godforsaken village away from the good of the land.”

The one watching took a swig from a small leather-bound flask. “You hit one thing right on the nose; the gods have left us. Ever since they intervened for mankind during the Dragon War, they haven’t shown themselves once. We live in darkness…”

The first man grunted. “Yeesh, save some cheer for the rest of us,” then added, “it’s your turn.”

Alyssa had heard tales of magic from her mother, but never the stories of the old wars; she had gone to Caldir to hear about those. A small, dull pang stung in her chest at her memory. Her mother, and her… She pushed it out of her mind as quickly as she could, closing her eyes for a moment and taking in a deep breath to center herself.

As she neared the bakery, she heard a muffled yelling coming from inside, and just as she reached the door to the shop, it flung open. Laurel Finch was unceremoniously shoved out by Madame Guff, who wore a scowl to contrast the girl’s grin as she dusted off her hands and shut the door. Laurel was a sight to behold. Flour dust covered her from her already white bakers hat (thankfully covering her hair) all the way down to the tips of her worn out shoes. She looked silly with the white powder covering her normally dark skin, and Alyssa couldn’t stifle her laughter. Ignoring the consequences, Laurel stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Alyssa.

“I think I’m almost ready,” said Laurel, and Alyssa could tell she had a smirk on her face as she said it. “Madame Guff told me I was going to turn out to be a fine baker.”

Alyssa pulled away from the embrace and began wiping her arms and clothes. “Was that before, or after you blew up a sack of flour?”

Laurel chuckled lightly. “To be clear, I only dropped half a bag. Anything else you might hear would be a total exaggeration.”

The two of them laughed and chatted about their days as they strode down the streets, the long shadows of awnings and buildings shielding them from the setting sun. Almost immediately, Laurel had noticed the leather guards on Alyssa’s shoulders and teased her, saying “Only the best soldiers leave their armour on for all to see, flaunting it, moving it in such a way that the sun shines off it into the eyes of the gawking peasants.”

Alyssa smiled, but stole a gaze down at the patchwork on both of their tunics before continuing their previous conversation.

As they turned down the street where her destination laid, Laurel gasped and stopped, grabbing Alyssa by her shoulders.

“I’ve been thinking of this all week long, but I didn’t remember to tell you until now!” Alyssa wasn’t shocked by the sudden shift in behaviour, but the realization that they had stopped in the middle of the street like this made her a bit uncomfortable. Laurel continued. “The summer is nearly over, and we haven’t gone on one camping trip. That needs to change!”

Years ago, Alyssa’s mother had always taken her and Laurel on short trips to a forest not far from the town. Those had been her fondest memories; hiking among the brambles and brooks, sharing interesting insects with Laurel (much to her mother’s disgust), and best of all, pretending they were rangers of the wild. They would sleep under the stars at night, and during the day were taught how to hunt deer, though they never ended up killing one. They would sit wide eyed around firelight as her mother told fantastic stories of people with magical powers, recounting tales of great hunters who ventured into the mystical Cave of Familia at the edge of the forest, where they would be granted aid from the gods. For years after her mother’s passing, Laurel tried to keep the tradition going, and nearly every summer, as often as time would allow, they would return to the forest and do it all over again; those memories were bittersweet when mixed with those of their childhood.

“How could I forget?” said Alyssa. “I’d love to!”

A massive grin spread across Laurel’s face, and she hugged her friend again. “I can’t wait! Meet me by the gap tonight as soon as you finish supper, okay?”

Alyssa nodded and departed with a wave, heading down the street toward Caldir’s workshop feeling refreshed. “Finally,” she muttered to herself, “something good to look forward to.”