“You ready to head out? It’s a bit cold,” asked Juro, pulling his cream white jacket over his shoulders as he walked back into the living room. His coat was probably a bright white once, but it had been so well-loved and used that it had browns, grays, and yellows melded deep into the itchy fabric that wouldn't budge no matter how hard Juro tried to scrub it off.

“Yeah, let’s stop by Elizabeth’s place first, since it’s on the way. Did you have a good conversation with him?” She slid on a tattered black trench coat and tied it around her waist, making a big knot in the front. Morrigan despised white. It was completely devoid of life, the same way her ghastly skin was. She would pinch her cheeks and nose just to see a slight pink flush in the morning, something to bring life to her complexion, but it quickly faded. Of course, winter was her favorite season. The prickly air would string her cheeks a slight pink, and she would have readily asked for it to hurt more if it meant she could have some more color. At least a black coat provided some contrast, like her dark brown hair, but if she could afford it, she would have quickly abandoned it for a bright blue one.

Juro casually interrupted her thoughts. “Mm-hmm. Sorry it went on a little long. It takes him a while to think of what to say.”

“I’m surprised you even get a response out of him,” she replied, adorning a wistful smile.

Juro let out a nervous laugh, sensing what almost seemed like bitterness souring her smile. “Morr, you can turn things around for him now. You just need a bit of practice,” he said, opening the front door and gesturing for her to head out. “Short people first.”

She snorted and mockingly walked out the door, exaggerating her footsteps. “You’re like a quarter of an inch taller than me.”

“That’s what worries me! Who knows when you’ll outgrow me, and I won’t be able to open doors for you anymore.” His breath fogged up outside, his blond hair waving in the chilly wind while he took in the scene.

The frigid cold weather had become common in Leith. A little ice age, it froze many crops and killed the already deficient soil. Juro and Morrigan were luckier than others who couldn’t even afford a coat. The common people supplied all food for the Leith and government, so as the famine grew, so did the crop tax. It didn’t help that if they failed to pay their tax for long enough, they would lose their land and have it burned by the Leiths. Many starved to death, rationing a single apple for days before succumbing. Of course, the Leiths who lived more inland faced no such issues. They had a guaranteed supply of feed constantly from the ordinary citizens; they lived comfortably while hiding the ordinary citizens on the outskirts.

When the war draft was issued, Morrigan’s dad was spared due to his chronic illness, but Juro’s uncle was forced into the army. The salary was minimal, not enough to compensate for the crop tax, but it was enough for Juro to head down to the farmer’s market, purchase a sliver of colored paper, and make Morrigan a little crane. If he was short on coins, he’d make Morrigan a tiny star instead. It was as much as he could do for her.

As they began walking down the gravel road, they approached the neighboring house, the kind homeowner waving towards them. While their houses were relatively near each other, they were still a couple minutes apart. Farm land divided them, but no one common person was allowed to own too much land and create a monopoly.

“Morrigan, Juro! How are you guys?” Mr. Brown flashed a warm smile before placing his hand back into his coat.

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“We’re good! Just heading over to Elizabeth’s place,” answered Morrigan. She walked up towards him, grinning as Juro followed closely behind.

“Tell her I say hi. What are you guys going for?”

Mr. Brown had moved into the neighborhood a few years before Morrigan’s mother was taken. In that time, their families had grown to be good friends. Mr. Brown would often stop by for dinner, bringing some homemade fruit pie whenever he had a surplus. A young Morrigan would stuff her face with the warm, chewy pie while their families laughed and talked. Morrigan grew to trust the people she was closest to, because that was the only thing she could rely on in her life. If she lost that trust and hope, if she lost that community with the people around her, she had nothing. Nothing to fuel her to keep going. Maybe that’s why her dad’s fear of her hurt so much.

Juro began to respond but was promptly cut off by Morrigan: “Well, this sounds kind of insane, which is why I'm going to get some advice, but I think I might be a Leith. Do you happen to know anything about it? About my mom?”

“Wow, really?" he exclaimed, seeming pleasantly shocked by the news. "Morrigan, that’s incredible! I’m sorry, but I’ve never heard of something like that before. I can look through some of our old letters, if you'd like me to.”

“No need to apologize, Mr. Brown,” she said, folding her arms to shield her hands from the frigid wind. “We’ll be on our way now. Is it okay if I stop by later to see if there’s any information about my mom?”

“Of course!” He walked closer to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “But please, be careful. There are people out there who will want to hurt you. Leiths are despicable, even to each other.”

Taken aback, she let out a nervous laugh. “Yup, we’re gonna head out now, but see you later!” Juro gave him an acknowledging nod before catching up with Morrigan.

They walked in silence for a bit until they were a fair distance from Mr. Brown's small cabin. Juro broke the silence first, hesitantly. “Are you sure you should have told him about your powers?” He turned towards her as they walked, but she continued to stare forwards.

“Yes. He’s always been there for my family ever since we met him.” She still refused to meet his gaze.

“His son is a Leith.”

“Mr. Brown is not. Besides, his mom is out of the picture. It was an affair.”

“He still loved a Leith and raised one. You shouldn’t have said anything, Morr. If the government finds out they've left an entire Leith bloodline slip away from their control, you could be persecuted.”

She finally looked at him, her eyes narrowed and cold. “What? You don’t think you could ever care about a Letih?”

Juro froze for a moment, blinking at her as she turned away once more. “Morr, you know that’s not what I meant. I’m just saying you need to be more careful.”

A silent tension grew between them. Understanding that her silence meant she didn’t want to talk anymore, Juro gave a small nod and stared at his stained white shoes kicking the gravel as he walked.

Elizabeth’s home was small and battered, similar to the rest of the ordinary citizens that patched wooden holes with leftover cloth. The location was better, however, since Elizabeth’s step-mom was a nurse in a nearby hospital. They were located right beside the farmer’s market, one of the only sources of entertainment and reasonable shopping prices within the district.

Morrigan headed up the creaky front steps, knocking rhythmically on the front door before folding her gloved hands in front of her, Juro waiting at the base of the stairs.

The door swung open to reveal a tall woman with beige skin and long, dark brown hair. Vitality seemed to smolder out of her heart, challenging the depressing aura that seeped from inside her house.

“What are you doing here?"