Just one. She only needed one.
Faelis kept her head low and her hood up as she made her way among the crowded morning streets. The all-too-familiar pangs of hunger in her stomach made it difficult to focus. But she only needed one. Just one success, and she could feed herself for a little bit longer.
But she stood out in the crowd, a poor wretch who belonged on the other side of town, yet was roaming among the well-to-dos in the nicer parts of Therisia. The all-black garb covering the wing-backed dragon's pink scales served her well at night, but in the morning it only made her more conspicuous. It didn't help that her stunted wings only made her a more unusual sight to draw the attention of those around her. People were wary, keeping their eyes on her or resting their hands on their pockets. As they were right to do, considering that she was trying to pick them. But she only needed one, just one, so she could eat...
A distracted feather-winged dragon lady up ahead, comparing the dresses in the window of a shop to the one she was wearing, seemed like the best chance Faelis was going to get. She drew close, taking a breath to steel herself for the attempt to pick the finely-dressed woman's pockets – only for someone else who wasn't paying attention to bump into her. The wing-backed man muttered an apology and continued on, but the damage was done; attention had been drawn to her and she had lost her opportunity. She shrank down a little as she felt so many eyes on her, and hurried deeper into the crowd.
Her stomach rumbled in protest. She couldn't give up yet. She had to accomplish something. She was all on her own now for the first time in a long while. No one would cover for her, no one would look after her, and no one would help her find scraps to survive off of. She had to stop being dead weight, or...
Another potential target caught her eye: a wyvern with bright red scales, dressed for traveling with a cloak covering most of his upper body. He had a paper of some sort in one hand, his eyes scanning back and forth across it, and the wing-arm that was holding the page was also holding back his cloak, exposing his brown trousers and the bottom of his white shirt. He seemed quite distracted by the paper, reaching up and idly adjusting the hat on his head, curved on top with a scarlet ribbon at the base, his red hair protruding messily from underneath it.
Faelis drew closer, taking more care to watch her surroundings and make sure she didn't get interrupted again. Just one. She only needed one success. A few coins and she could get herself some food...
She slowed slightly as she approached and held her breath, keeping her gaze forward. Her hand carefully slipped under the membranes of his wing-arm, into his pocket, and-
In a flash, the man dropped the paper and snatched her by the wrist.
Faelis froze and gave a small gasp, trembling in fear. She had failed before – getting spotted or chased off or even having things thrown at her – but never before had she been apprehended. She had always managed to slip away. But the man held her wrist in an iron grip that she had no hope of escaping, his white-gloved hand clenched firmly around her.
Her life was about to get a whole lot worse.
"I don't think so," he told her coldly, pulling her hand out of his pocket.
Faelis was too afraid to speak, turning her head just a tiny bit to look at him. Would he just take her to the guards? Getting locked up would be the best outcome she could hope for. But nobody cared about a gutter rat like her. He could do whatever he wanted with her and no-one would come to her rescue. Would he simply strike her and leave her on the side of the road? Or would he drag her somewhere to exact his revenge? Horrifying memories of past abuses surfaced and she trembled; some small part of her preferred the idea of him simply killing her to having to go through that again.
Their eyes met, his firm glaring gaze to her petrified expression. For a moment they both remained like that, and then he said in a conversational tone, "Aren't you going to try and flee?"
She shook with fear. He was toying with her. He wanted her to try and escape so he could make her struggle and suffer more. Her legs shook and she felt like she might collapse at any moment.
"You look terrified," he observed quietly, bending over and picking up the paper he had dropped with his free hand. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you."
No. He was lying. He had to be. The only people who had ever said they weren't going to hurt her had always hurt her anyway, they-
"Come with me," he said quietly, and gave her a gentle tug. She followed him in a zombie-like state, too afraid to try and resist. This was it. He was going to drag her into an alley and beat her or rape her or simply slit her throat and leave her for some other unfortunate soul to find – or some combination of those. She thought of calling for help, but who would help her, even if she hadn't been caught in the act of pickpocketing? She was at his mercy. He could hurt her all he wanted.
But he didn't.
Instead, he took her over to a nearby café. The inside was bustling and busy and outside there were several metal tables and chairs set out for people to dine in the open air at, in an area marked off by simple chain barriers low enough to step over if you raised your legs high enough. The wyvern led her to an empty outdoor table where a pair of chairs were set up across from one another, and then he did something unthinkable.
He let go of her wrist.
"Take a seat," he instructed, gesturing to one of the empty chairs.
Faelis was still shaking, her heart hammering in her chest. What was he doing? Was this part of some elaborate plan to humiliate her? Or was it just to lower her guard? She could flee, or at least, attempt to, but now that she could get a good look at him she saw the man had a pistol on one side of his belt, and a sword hanging in its scabbard from the other side that had been hidden by his cloak before. No doubt he knew how to use them. If she had more of a head start she would risk it, but she was right next to him. She would be dead or seriously wounded if she tried, and then she would be right back where she was now: at his mercy.
"Go on," he told her, gesturing again, and she sat down slowly, threading her tail through the gap in the back of the seat. She kept her head down, staring at the surface of the table. She had no idea what was going to happen, but it couldn't be anything good.
The man took his seat across from her and studied her calmly and silently, placing his hands on the edge of the table since his wing-arms prevented him from resting his elbows on it. "You are still afraid," he stated, and she said nothing. He was right, and there was nothing to gain by confirming it for him. If he wanted to see her tremble in fear, so be it, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing her plead.
"What is your name?" he asked, but she remained silent and kept her head down. "Ah, of course, it is ungentlemanly of me to ask without first offering mine. You can call me Randival. Now, what is your name?"
She still didn't answer. He was trying to get her to lower her guard. To open up, so he could hurt her somehow. There was no other explanation. How could she possibly get out of this situation? Perhaps if he grew distracted again, or simply bored with her, she might be able to slip away. If she could get into the crowd he wouldn't be able to attack her. But she had to wait for the opportunity first...
"Waitress!" he called out, and she looked up; he was looking the other way, one hand raised. But not for long enough, as he turned his head to keep her in the corner of his eye. If she had been paying attention she could have been away already! Silently she cursed herself. No wonder she was such dead weight. If only she had been paying attention...
He gave the whiskered dragon waitress in a serving-girl's outfit his order, then turned his head back to Faelis. "And my companion will have...?" he said in an open-ended question, trying to prompt Faelis to speak. But she said nothing, so Randival sighed and went on, "She must have a dry throat. Just a cup of water for her, please."
The waitress bowed a little, though she gave Faelis a suspicious glance before turning and heading into the café. With that taken care of, Randival returned his full attention to Faelis. She was never going to escape now...
"Well, if you wish for me to do all of the talking, then so be it," Randival remarked as he leaned over the table slightly. "I can see that you are panicking, however much you try to hide it. After all, I could very easily call over one of the city guards and turn you over to them. Dressed as you are they would not doubt the claim that you are a pickpocket." He let that hang in the air for just a brief moment and then continued in a softer tone, "...but I would rather not do that."
Faelis trembled a little. That meant he had plans for her. Worse plans. He really was going to take her somewhere and hurt her. She had to get away. But how could she when he was looking right at her...?
When she still did not speak, he took a breath and began talking again. "You refuse to tell me anything verbally, but your appearance alone tells me a great deal. You have been living rough for quite some time – that is obvious from the smell of you alone, let alone your appearance." She looked down in shame, wrapping her arms around herself a little. "You are extremely malnourished and are likely quite famished at this particular moment in time. Your attempt to pick my pocket was from desperation, not from greed, wasn't it? Had you not drawn attention to yourself with that gentleman before making your attempt on me, I would have been oblivious."
She tried to keep her face neutral, but couldn't fully suppress her surprise. He knew? Yet he hadn't been looking at her – had he only been pretending to be distracted? He had grabbed her so quickly and she had had no idea how he had known; even when she had previously been caught she had at least had a few seconds to get away before her targets had fully grasped what had been happening. Nobody's reflexes were that good unless they were expecting it. But why? Why would he do that? Was it just to catch her? Was he taunting her over it to make her feel worse?
"Most people in your situation would not give up the way you did," he continued. "You are afraid. And for good reason, I suppose; I am bigger and stronger than you, and this particular city cares little for its underclass. Perhaps you think I am going to hurt you, or force myself upon you, or something similar. I promise you I will not, but you have no reason to believe me."
Faelis glanced aside. His assessment of her was unnervingly accurate.
He paused for a moment as the waitress returned, placing a mug with a steaming brown drink on the table in front of him, and a small cup of clear water in front of Faelis. "Thank you," Randival said courteously, but Faelis remained still. "I assure you, she's grateful as well," Randival added before the waitress gave him a smile and moved on to another customer.
Faelis stared into the cup. The water was pure and clear, clean and safe to drink. Normally the best she could get was rainwater or condensation whenever the island Therisia was built on passed through a thick cloud bank. She wrung her hands under the table, wanting to drink it, but unsure if she could trust what he had offered her. He kept his eyes on her as he raised the mug and blew across it before taking a sip and setting it back down.
"Where are your parents?" he asked her. "They must be worried sick."
Faelis closed her eyes and shook her head, not so much to answer him as to try and stave off the memories. They weren't worried about her. They were glad she was gone. And for all her hardships, she was glad to be long gone from them. She hoped to never see them again.
"...I see," Randival murmured, pausing to take another sip of his drink. "Is there someone else who is supposed to be looking after you, then?" Nervousness gripped her, and her fear intensified as he went on, "Perhaps I should start asking around to see if anyone recognizes you..."
"No!" she gasped out quietly, taking a few panicked breaths. She couldn't let him do that. "No, please... please don't..." she begged.
Randival raised an eye-ridge and set down his mug. "Why?" he asked, simply, bluntly and to the point.
Faelis hesitated. What could she tell him to make him desist? Even if she escaped now, he might start asking around and draw more suspicion on her, or worse, unless she made him forget about her. She raised her head slightly, seeing him regarding her calmly. His concern seemed genuine, but how much of it was an act? Was it all just a ploy? But perhaps... some of the truth would work. Maybe that would get him to leave her alone...
"There's..." she hesitated again, feeling a lump in her throat. Could she trust him? But she wasn't, really. A lie by omission was still a lie. She only had to tell him part of the story. "There's... someone. He... he threatened me."
Randival's face darkened. "Who?" he inquired.
"I... I don't know his name," she confessed. It was true. He'd never told her. "I... don't really know much about him at all. I..." she almost said that she'd never seen his face, but that wasn't quite true. She'd seen it, once. "He wears a hood whenever he's around me." She lowered her voice and stared into the bottom of the untouched water cup. "...he was going to kill me. Unless I worked for him. And he... he promised that if I ever got caught by the guards... he would kill me in my sleep."
Randival frowned deeply. "What a cur," he murmured. "And you believe him?"
"He..." she swallowed a little and kept her voice low. "...he kills people to make money."
Glowering deeply, Randival sucked in a breath. "An assassin," he muttered quietly. "I see."
"...you believe me?" she asked, looking up at him again. She had expected him to call her a liar, even though she was telling him the truth. A fragment of the truth, yes, but the truth all the same.
"I can tell you are hiding things from me, but I do not doubt your words," he said simply. She glanced away again. "I am quite used to dealing with people who try to tell me falsehoods, and I can tell that what you have told me is the truth. It is not the whole story, but what you have said, I believe." She took deep breaths and remained silent as he sipped from his mug again. If he found out the truth, he would never help her. She had to be careful.
Randival set the mug back down. "Where can I find this hooded man?"
Her eyes widened. No. She couldn't answer that. She couldn't! She shook her head and kept her mouth shut. He absolutely couldn't know.
"...very well," he murmured after a few moments of her silence. "If that is the case, then why did you tell me what you did?"
"I..." she began, trembling in her seat. "I was afraid," she admitted quietly.
"Ah. You only spoke when I suggested asking around. Because if word got back to him..."
She remained silent in response to his implication. Better to let him think the rest of that thought he had not finished aloud.
He drank from his mug again before continuing. "What did you steal from the man before me?"
She looked up. "Huh?"
"The man you bumped into. What did you take from him?"
"Nothing!" Faelis protested.
"Come now, I know how that con works. You bump into someone to distract them as you take something from their pocket. It's a trick as old as the Stars. What did you take?"
"Nothing!" Faelis repeated, growing distressed. Wanting to explain herself, she continued, "I wasn't after him, I... I was going to try the lady by the dress shop. But that man bumped into me and it ruined everything." She looked down again. "I failed... again. I'm a thief, but... I'm not a very good one."
"You can't be that bad at it if you're still alive," he remarked. A heavy gurgling in her stomach made a convincing argument otherwise.
For a few moments neither one spoke. Soon Randival finished the rest of his drink, still keeping his gaze fixed on her. "Well, if you are not thirsty, perhaps you are hungry," he said as he began to rise from his seat. "Wait here, and I will get some breakfast for us both."
She watched silently as he reached into his pocket and took out a few coins for the drink, leaving them on the table, then turned and strode into the café itself, leaving her alone.
Why did he do that?
She looked down at the table. The coins were there, right in front of her. It wasn't a lot, but it would be enough that she could take them and get some food to see her through another day. And he had just left, so he would not be able to stop her – if she ran for it now, she would be long gone before he even got back out the door of the shop.
But he wasn't stupid. He had to have known. So why?
She swallowed anxiously. She gave a surreptitious look around, but nobody was paying her any attention. The food at the other tables looked so good, and her stomach growled in protest. This was the only chance she was going to get. She was in the clear to leave.
But... what if he was being honest? What if he really wasn't going to hurt her? If he was going to, he could have already done so, and easily. He'd done the opposite – given her the chance to go free. Was it a test of some kind? Or just a trick to make her think that he wouldn't hurt her?
Looking down at the table again and the coins on it, she made up her mind. She raised her right hand up from her lap, reaching out...
...and took hold of the cup of water instead, leaving the coins where they were.
Maybe it really was a trap. Maybe she was being the foolish freak her parents always told her she was. She brought the mug to her mouth and drank a little bit of it; the water was cool and refreshing. It tasted... clean. It was just water, but to her, it was pure joy. She tipped the cup back further, swallowing again and again, draining the entire thing before she'd even fully realized that she had been chugging it, and lowered her head as she set the cup back down.
Having something in her stomach settled it, if only a little. Maybe she could at least wait just a bit. Have some food and then flee. Would it really be any different than stealing his money and using it to buy a meal of her own? Surely he would give her another opportunity, if he believed she could be trusted like this.
The waitress came by to collect the money off the table and the empty mug and cup, silently removing them and going back inside. Faelis remained where she was, trying to spot Randival through the window, but it was very busy inside. Conflicted, she still thought about getting up and leaving, but she stayed still until she saw him come back out with a wooden tray in his hands and two plates on top of it.
Curious, she watched as he returned, giving a glance at the bare table as he set the tray down on the middle of it, turned so that one plate was in front of each of them. There was a knife and fork with the plate too, so she wouldn't have to eat with her bare hands for a change. On the plates was... some sort of food. She wasn't sure what. They were big and flat discs that were a golden brown color on the top and had little holes from air bubbles in the side. Some sort of weird flat bread? Bits of fruit and some thick syrupy liquid were on top of them too. It smelled delicious, and her stomach rumbled again.
"Go ahead," he told her when she didn't move at first, picking up his own knife and fork. "They're all yours, and I already paid for them. Eat up."
She felt wary, and remained where she was. What was this odd food? Maybe it was something that only wyverns could eat, and it would poison her. Or maybe he'd laced it with something. The fruit would cover up any recognizable smells, otherwise she might be able to detect what kind of poison it was. Though she knew all too well that some of the most potent ones had no recognizable odor...
"Why are you doing this?" she asked him quietly.
Randival gave her a shrug as he cut a piece off of the doughy disc. "You must be hungry. It's breakfast time. I know I'm hungry and from the sound of your stomach you must be absolutely starving."
She hesitated. He was right, of course. This was real food, not some leftovers or scraps. Sometimes when she was really lucky she could steal something from a market stall or a vendor with a cart, but those were rare opportunities. She wanted nothing more than to devour everything on the plate, but at the same time, everything about the situation felt strange. Why would anyone just offer her food...?
"But why?" she asked him again. "I don't have any money. What do you want in return?"
He shook his head as he chewed and swallowed the bite of food. "I don't want anything in return. I would LIKE you to give honest answers to my questions, but it is not a requirement for you to eat these pancakes." So that's what they were called. She wrung her hands, staring at them, the delicious smell making her hungrier. He regarded her calmly, sticking his fork into a pancake without cutting it up. "You do not trust me," he observed.
"No," she answered. "Why would I? I've just met you. And you're not acting at all like someone like you should!" She lowered her gaze and her voice. "You should have turned me over to the guards."
"Should I?" he asked rhetorically. "And what would that have accomplished? Even without the hooded man being part of the picture, you would be tossed into a cell for a few days. I suppose you would at least have had some food in that case, but it doesn't seem right to me."
"But... but I tried to steal from you..."
He ate another bite of pancakes before answering, pointing at her with the fork. "You are – and I say this only to state facts – filthy, underfed, weak, and probably sickly as well. And I want to help you. Getting you thrown into jail will not help."
Despite his reassurances, his words made her feel ashamed. He was right, but she didn't want to be any of those things, and it just made her feel worse. She said nothing, and he must have picked up on her being unconvinced.
"Perhaps I should tell you a little more about me," he went on. Placing down his fork, he reached up and doffed his hat towards her, puffing out his chest. "My full name... is Randival Nashadhe." She stared at him blankly, and his smirk vanished as he deflated in his seat. "You've never heard of the Nashadhe Shipwrights?" he asked her.
Shaking her head a little, she watched as he frowned deeply. "I see," he murmured. "That rather takes the wind out of my sails. I have a photograph and everything but if you don't recognize my old man, then it doesn't really help..." He gave a small sigh. "Well, I can at least tell you why I'm traveling. Have you heard about the void rifts that have been opening up in the skies?"
She had, actually. The hooded man had mentioned them when talking about how it was getting harder to get the supplies she needed to make the poisons he asked of her. "Yes," she said simply as a minimal answer.
"Well," he told her with a determined voice, "I'm going to do something about them. I admittedly do not know what, just yet, but I've been traveling around learning what I can and trying to find people to help me."
He surely didn't think she knew anything, did he? "I don't know anything that would help."
"I didn't expect you would. I'm just saying that I'm trying to help people. I don't like being unable to help, and I refuse to stand idly by and do nothing. ...but I suppose you still don't believe me, do you? Nor can I offer any proof of such a statement..."
He seemed lost in thought as he returned to his pancakes and continued eating. She stared at hers, hands wringing under the table. "Eat up," he reminded her after a few bites. "They're getting cold."
"No," she said quietly, shaking her head.
He raised an eye-ridge again. "Come now, you must be starving. Consider them a gift." She glanced away from him, however. He took a few more bites and then began talking after he swallowed. "You still do not trust me. Perhaps you think I'm lying. You must think that they are contingent on something – that if you accept the gift, then you'll owe me, and that I'll use it as leverage to get you to do something for me."
She didn't quite understand all the words he had used, but she got the general idea – and clung to her own arms a little more tightly. How was he so good at seeing through her? She couldn't take his 'gift'. She didn't want him to replace the hooded man, telling her what to do and threatening her if she didn't. The only way she could win was to not even get involved in the first place.
"Well," he murmured after a little longer, with his plate almost cleared. "You leave me at a bit of an impasse. I want to help you, but you do not want to be helped."
She bowed her head. Was that true? No, she wanted help. She didn't want to be alone again. But at the same time, she needed someone she could trust. A friend. But she didn't have any, not any more. And she couldn't trust him. Any man who offered to help her couldn't be trusted. They all just wanted to use her for something or other...
Randival finished his pancakes and set down his knife and fork. "I suppose in that case, there's only one thing left for me to do," he said as he stood up, and Faelis braced herself, squeezing her eyes shut. This was it, he would take off the mask of kindness now. He would hurt her or drag her away or-
"Farewell, young lady," he said, and she opened one eye cautiously to see him in the middle of a bow, holding his hat over his chest. "I hope you meet with good fortune sometime soon."
He straightened up and put his hat on his head. "Where are you going?" she asked him.
"Matakras next, I think," he told her. "My potential options here in Therisia have turned up precious little. But that's fine, I can just try again with something else. No point going back home with my tail between my legs just because of one little failure, is there?" He reached under his cloak and took out a small device of some kind and looked at it. "I should be able to get to the inn to gather my things and still make it to the airship dock with plenty of time to spare, and if I somehow do not, there is an afternoon flight." Then, he suddenly looked directly at her as he returned the device beneath his cloak. "But that's not what you were really asking, was it?"
She stared at him silently, and he continued. "I understand that you cannot trust me. I will not force you to do anything you don't want to do. But I cannot sit here all day, so if you will not accept my help, then I will be off. I do recommend you eat the pancakes though – they're very good. With that, I shall take my leave." With a dramatic sweep of his cloak, he turned on his heel, and began to walk off.
But he didn't get far.
Faelis didn't fully understand why she got up from her seat and lunged after him, grabbing onto his wrist, calling out "Wait!" as she did. He stopped, turning in place to look at her; he didn't seem surprised at all. "Please, don't go," she begged, clinging to his arm, ignoring the stares of the nearby patrons.
For a moment, he said nothing, then turned more to face her. "Why do you want me to stay?" he asked her. She wasn't entirely sure. He had just been about to leave, after all. She could have waited until he was long gone and then had the food once she was sure it was safe. Then she wouldn't have to worry about him, and she could slip away.
But something within her didn't want that. She didn't want to be alone again. She hadn't had someone to talk to, at least in a friendly manner, in so long. Their conversation had been brief, but it had been nice just to be able to speak to someone without retribution.
She didn't say anything aloud though, so he guessed, "Is it because of the hooded man?"
It wasn't. But she gave him a silent nod. It was a lie, but at that moment, she would have said whatever she had to in order to make him stay just a little bit longer.
Slowly, he walked back towards the table, and she went with him, both of them returning to their seats. Resting his hands on the edge of the table, he regarded her calmly. "Then," he asked her quietly, "What do you want me to do, if you don't want me to leave, and you won't tell me where he is?"
She didn't answer, but she couldn't answer either. The words to express what she was feeling didn't come to her. She was unsure, and confused. She just knew she didn't want to be condemned to solitude, not yet. Even if it was a lie, even if it was just an act, he had at least acted pleasantly towards her. It had been a nice change of pace to being unwanted by everyone around her.
He sighed a little. "If there's nothing I can do for you, then I should leave," he reasoned, and began to push his chair back.
"No, please," she begged, and he shifted forward again. "Don't leave. Don't go."
"I can't sit here at this café forever." With a little smirk, he added, "Sooner or later they'll toss us out to make room for paying customers."
"I..." she fumbled, looking across the table at him. It didn't really matter where they were, did it? She just didn't want to be all by herself. "No, I don't... I don't want you to leave me. I..." her voice lowered to a near whisper as she admitted her feelings. "...I don't want to be alone again."
He drummed his fingers on the table. "Well, there's only one way to do that: you'll have to come with me. But as I mentioned, I am investigating the void rifts. The creatures that come from them are dangerous, and there is always danger involved in traveling. I would do my best to protect you if you came with me, of course, but that does not negate the danger involved."
She raised her head a little and stared up at him. Would he really take her? Could she finally go somewhere else? Ride on an airship, without having to stow away in the hold? But...
"However," he said with a firm gaze, "I can't bring along someone I do not trust. And if you want me to trust you, you'll have to trust me."
He said nothing more, and she stared, thinking it over. Lowering her gaze, she saw the plate of pancakes before her once again. They were still so tempting. His gift to her. He could help her, but only if she trusted him...
Slowly, timidly, she brought her hands up to the table and picked up the knife and fork. He watched her in silence as she cut off a piece of one of the pancakes just as she had seen him do. Raising it up, she hesitated for a brief moment before putting it into her mouth.
It was the best thing she could remember tasting in her life.
The pancake itself was still a little warm, its insides soft and fluffy. The sweetness of the fruit and the syrup together were delicious without being overpowering. She was cutting off another piece before she had even swallowed the first, ravenously devouring the pancakes one piece after another as Randival sat in his chair and watched her impassively – mostly, anyway. He had a smile on his face as he watched, but made no comment.
It didn't take long for her to leave only a few crumbs and stray syrup stains on the plate. Her stomach was finally placated, and she put down the knife and fork and leaned back in the chair. Seeing Randival looking at her, she glanced away in embarrassment. "I'm sorry," she murmured, "It's just... it's the first good meal I've had in several winters..."
His smile faded a little and he gave her a look of concern. "I suppose I am not surprised, but that is still terrible to hear," he murmured sympathetically. "I can help you, if you will let me."
Reaching out with his right hand, he held it out to her with the palm up, his fingers curled back. "I do not want to take you traveling while you are in such a state – come back to the inn with me, and you can clean yourself up before we leave the city. I promise I will protect you from the hooded man, and from whatever or whoever else may threaten you."
Faelis hesitated briefly, timidly reaching out and hooking her fingers with his. Even through the glove, his grip felt strong. Yet unlike when he grabbed her before when she tried to pick his pocket, it felt... reassuring.
"Now, I will ask you again," he said quietly, "What is your name?"
Looking him in the eyes, she saw only warmth and kindness. She didn't know for sure if she could really trust him, but she did know that she wanted to try.
So, gathering her resolve, she softly answered, "Faelis," and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
