Kid took a deep breath as he stood outside the bakery, fist tightly clutched around the golden coin the Son had given him, as if afraid it’d disappear. As if anyone bothered pickpocketing this deep into the Outwalls. The only people with any real coin would be Sons, and stealing from them was a quick way to find your throat slashed in the night.

Kid swallowed his trepidation and walked toward the door. With shaky hands, he pushed it open and slipped inside. A pale, portly man stood behind the counter, almost as doughy as his materials. Kid watched, his mouth watering as the baker kneaded his dough with practiced hands. Kid approached the counter as he would a rabid dog, just waiting for it to bite. The baker crinkled his nose, doubtless catching whiff of Kid, and turned to look at the boy. The look on his face was not promising.

Kid glanced out the corner of his eye at the thickly muscled man sitting on a stool in the corner of the room, sharpening his iron axe with a whetstone. At his hip hung a wolf shaped mask, marking him as a Son. Doubtless, the baker had the privilege of paying for their protection. The man’s eyes followed him as he approached the counter and met the gaze of the baker.

The baker paused his kneading and wiped his hands against eachother, sending puffs of flour into the air. “Come to beg for scraps, eh?” he asked, looking down at Kid from behind the counter. He nodded his head to the Son. “If so, you’d best turn tail, or he’ll give ye what for.”

“I have coin,” Kid said a little too quickly.

The baker looked him up and down, raising a doubtful eyebrow.

Kid pulled the golden Heart from his pocket and held it up in the light, letting it gleam. The scraping of the whetstone on metal in the corner paused. The baker snorted. “Who’d ye steal that from?”

“Do you sell food or not?” Kid asked, ready to bolt for the door.

The baker paused, then nodded curtly.

“I just want a loaf of bread,” That’s all, Kid said.

The baker eyed him a moment. “Five silver Lions.”

Kid’s eyes widened. That was half his coin and well over thirty times the cost. “I bought from you for three copper bears last week.”

“Prices change,” the baker said. He patted a nearby loaf of bread on the counter “Supply.” He held out his hand. “Demand.”

Kid fought the urge to spit in his hand. “I earned this coin working for the Sons,” he said, stretching the truth to its limits. “What do you think they’d say if I told them you were treating honest folk this way.”

The Son in the corner chuckled. Kid fought the urge to nervously glance his direction.

The baker pulled his hand back. “They wouldn’t say a damn thing, because I pay them to leave me be.”

Kid met his gaze with a level stare, fighting the instincts telling him to avert his eyes. After a long moment, the baker grimaced. “A silver lion.” Final offer.

Kid bit his lip. That was still a lot of money. “Throw in a sweet roll and we have a deal.”

The baker narrowed his eyes. “Ye got stones, I’ll give ye that,” he said, “Deal.” He held out his hand and Kid begrudgingly passed him a golden coin.

The baker hesitated as he held the gold coin, as if considering keeping it and kicking Kid to the curb. Kid really had no recourse if he chose to do so. He forced a smile to his lips.

The baker mumbled to himself, pocketing the coin and counting out nine silver ones. He placed them on the counter as if not wanting to touch Kid’s hand again. Kid hardly blamed him, scooping up the coins as the baker gathered the food. As the man passed it to him, the baker spoke once more. “Careful out there, boy.”

Kid pulled the food to his chest, nodded and turned to leave the shop. As he opened the door, he heard the scrape of the stool the Son had been sitting on.

Kid took off at a sprint out the door, feet crunching through the snow. He was nearly a block away before looking over his shoulder. The Son was leaning out the Bakery door, watching him as if trying to decide whether it was worth his time to chase Kid down through the cold and snow. The Son flashed him a gap-toothed grin before disappearing into the store once more.

Kid slowed his mad dash to a walk, breath coming in foggy gasps. Passersby hardly gave him a second look. Seeing an urchin running through the streets with food clutched to his chest wasn’t an uncommon sight in the Outwalls, and if it wasn’t your food then it wasn’t worth bothering about. Kid edged as far to the sides of the roads as the snow drifts would allow, doing his best to remain beneath notice as he made his way toward Melna’s house.

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He looked up at the cloudless sky, filled with rays of frozen sunlight. The Son had said to be there in the morning, and he quickened his pace, not wanting to be late for whenever they decided to show. The idea of becoming one of them was tantalizing. Every urchin’s dream. It meant a life of violence, but what was that compared to one of deprivation?

Kid’s eyes danced between the alleys of the Outwalls as he trudged his way through town, careful to keep an eye out for anyone looking to relive folks of the burden of their purses. Gangs rarely hung around outside this time of year, but it never hurt to be too careful.

As he drew closer to the old woman’s home, he caught sight of one of the city wells. Somebody was actually using it which was an unusual sight in the midst of winter. In fact folks rarely used them even in the driest parts of summer for fear of rot from corpses that may or may not actually be stuck in the shafts. Certainly, nobody ever went down to check.

As he drew closer to the small figure turning the crank, he realized he knew her- Lissa. A smile came to his lips unbidden. He’d known her as far back as he could remember, having grown up just down the street from her parent’s tavern. They’d played a lot when they were younger but had slowly grown apart as they got older- the tavern taking more of a toll on her time as Kid’s mother began to get- worse.

As she caught sight of him, he waved with his free hand. He could see his smile reflected on her face as in reunions of old friends. He also didn’t fail to notice the half dozen armed men loitering around the well’s square. They certainly didn’t fail to notice him.

As Kid approached, he glanced toward the empty bucket by the well. “I thought you were training to become some kind of witch, not a porter,” he said.

Lissa paused in her turning of the well winch, panting. “Melna told me it builds character, but I think she just wanted me out of the house while she checked up your friend.”

“He doing okay?” he asked.

She nodded, turning the wench once more. “Far better than most men with a gut wound.”

“Are you doing okay? I didn’t get a chance to ask you what happened.”

She paused. “I miss being home, but I’m honestly excited. I feel like I have a chance to be somebody more important than a serving girl.”

Kid nodded, having an inkling of that feeling with his prospects of working for the Sons.

Lissa took a deep breath as she turned the crank a final time, levering out a bucket of water from the depths of the well. Kid set his food down on the rim of the well and reached over the edge, untying the sloshing bucket from the rope, and grunting as he lowered it to the ground.

Lissa passed him the second bucket and as he tied it to the rope, she spoke, “Really, I should be asking you if you’re okay. You almost died.”

“Almost,” Kid answered with more bravado than he felt. His false smile died under her scrutiny. “Truthfully, I’m a bit shaken. Can hardly believe I managed not to piss myself yesterday.”

Lissa snorted as she released the wheel lock, letting the bucket fall into the depths of the well where underground currents passed beneath the city. Kid knew little of them, but he knew they ran fast enough and deep enough that the water didn’t freeze even in the depths of winter.

“I also wanted to say sorry.”

She cocked her head as the bucked splashed far below. “Sorry?”

He nodded, averting his eyes. “I haven’t been a great friend lately. Haven’t been around.”

She looked at him askance, then to his surprise she tackled him in a hug. All his personal worries flew away as he hugged her back.

Lissa was taller than him by a large margin. And he was uncomfortably aware of his face pressing into her chest. The feeling was pleasant, but he could already feel its ramifications beginning to stir. It was a little early in the day to humiliate himself and he broke the embrace, looking up into her eyes.

“Think nothing of it,” she said with a small smile.

Kid returned her smile in kind. “I got you something,” he said, plucking the sweet roll from the edge of the well and fell into a low bow as he held it out to her.

Her smile widened as she plucked it from his hands with a small curtsy. “Such a gentleman,” she said, raising the roll to her mouth. Lissa hesitated, giving him a guilty look. “We’ll split it,” she said, tearing the soft, sweet bread apart.

Kid’s mouth began salivating at her offer. He had already started regretting his show of gallantry. He thanked her as he took his half from her hands and bit into it, savoring the sweetness.

As he swallowed the last bite, his sadness was palpable, and he fought the urge to stare longingly as Lissa finished her half. Instead, he decided to make himself useful and set himself to turning the well crank.

As Lissa swallowed her last bite, she let out a slight chuckle as she observed his efforts. “Breakfast and a show. Such a gentleman.”

Kid felt his cheeks redden as she laughed at his expense. He struggled to find a clever response, but his brain had simply stopped working as it tended to around girls. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as she raised herself to sit on the edge of the well. She really was pretty. The sun brought out the blonde in her hair, and the morning rays seemed to wreathe her in gold.

He quickly turned his gaze back to the winch as her head began to turn his way. Kid swallowed, hoping she hadn’t caught him staring. Long moments passed in comfortable silence as Kid heaved at the winch, slowly bringing the bucket to the surface.

“Are you going to work for Marc?” she asked.

Kid blinked, feeling like an idiot for not putting the pieces together sooner. “That was your uncle Marc? As in the leader of the Sons?”

Kid tried to keep his jaw from hitting the ground. Lissa had spoken of the man in the past, but Kid had never met him “I- I suppose I am.”

She nodded slowly as if to herself. “Just be careful,” she whispered.

“When have you ever known me not to be careful?” he asked between breaths, giving her his best sly smile.

Lissa rolled her eyes as the winch clanked to a halt, locking into place. Kid took a few deep breaths to help steady his breathing as Lissa pulled the freshly filled bucket from its perch and settled it on the ground with a grunt.

She took a deep breath before meeting Kid’s eyes. “I just hope you know what you’re signing up for.”

A slight frown creased his lips. He knew. He knew all too well. He could still remember the feel of Billy’s blood on his hands and the gut-wrenching sensation of seeing men die. He could only imagine what it’d feel like to hold the blade himself. “Come on, let’s not keep Melna waiting,” he said, hefting one of the buckets.