When I arrived at the inn, I was grateful to see it dark and quiet. No one had arrived yet, giving me the precious time I needed. I slipped inside, the door creaking softly as I closed it behind me. The common room was empty, the hearth cold and dark, and the only sound was the faint rustling of the wind outside.


I moved quickly through the shadows, my footsteps barely a whisper on the worn wooden floor. My small room at the back of the inn was a sanctuary of sorts, a place where I could hide my secrets. I crossed to the table, my fingers brushing against the rough wood as I reached for the hidden compartment beneath it.


With practiced ease, I slid open the false bottom, revealing a small hollow space. I quickly placed my coins inside, my heart pounding as I secured the compartment. It was a hiding place I had discovered by accident, one I was certain neither Lidia, Fayra, nor Madam Therrow knew about. I also tucked my broken locket into the compartment, making a mental note to buy a new chain for it as soon as I could. My neck felt bare without it.


Satisfied that my treasures were safe, I turned my attention to the task at hand. One handkerchief, not even half way done, laid on the table. I groan...my mood already spoiled. I went to my work station, picked up my needle, and the familiar rhythm of stitching etched into my bones. The weight of the work ahead of me was daunting.


As I worked, my mind wandered back to him...there had been something in his eyes, a depth of understanding I have the urge to just know what was it he was hiding. Why had he seemed so interested in my locket? The questions swirled in my mind, mingling with the worry of not getting at least one handkerchief done.


The hours slipped by, the room growing colder as the early hours of night fell. My fingers ached from the relentless stitching, every joint stiff and sore. I thought of Fayra and Lidia, their smug faces flashing in my mind. If Fayra found out about the money, she would surely try to take it from me. And Madam Therrow would scowl at me for not finishing at least five handkerchiefs by now.


I paused, setting down my needle and flexing my cramped fingers. I needed a plan, a way to protect myself from Fayra’s schemes and Madam Therrow’s wrath. I wasn’t going to let Fayra run over me this time. I would finish the handkerchiefs, but I would also find a way to secure my coins and my locket. Perhaps I could buy a small pouch for the coins and someone gitfed with crafting jewels. I would be so generous if they won't ask much for money for the chain. That way, I could keep them close to me, hidden from prying eyes.


-*-*-*


The next day, morning crept in like a hesitant visitor, brushing its quiet glow over the thin walls of my cramped room. Pale gold seeped through the cracks in the window shutters, spreading warmth over the rough, well-worn floorboards and igniting tiny flecks of dust as they drifted lazily in the air. I sat up slowly, stretching out stiff arms.


Madam Therrow was sound asleep and snoring when I passed by her room. Fayra and Lidia too, their rooms two doors from my own. They were tangled in their blankets and barely stirring. They might've knocked themselves out yesterday but it's none of my business. At the rundown bath, separate from the closet room where our clothes were usually packed with boxes never opened before. I took a quick rinse of my face and brushed my teeths and took a quick bath in cold water. When I was done, I dressed up quickly in worn out faded green dress with leggings underneath. I wrapped my cloak tight around my shoulders, feeling the early-morning chill seep through the thin material. And I had the need to check, going into my room, I reached into the hidden compartment all the same, fingers brushing the cool metal of my coins and the gentle curve of the locket.


Still there. Still safe.


I exhaled, a quiet relief pooling in my chest.


Outside, the world was half-awake—the streets, damp with morning dew, were almost eerily silent, save for the rustling of fabric as vendors began to set up stalls. Only a few others were awake, shuffling past with heavy-lidded eyes, small murmurs of greeting and the faint scent of fresh bread wafted from the bakery.


As I walked, my fingers traced the edge of my cloak, a small, grounding habit, the fabric rough but comforting between my fingertips. I didn’t have a grand plan, just a single errand—find a chain for my locket, something simple and strong, that I could wear close without worry. I needed it near me, now more than ever.


Turning the corner toward the heart of the market, I spotted a figure moving in the distance, his shape barely distinct against the glow of morning light. At first, he was just a shadow, shifting easily through the emptiness, but as I drew closer, the details began to settle in—the golden halo of his hair, catching and reflecting the soft light like spun honey; the careful way he walked, each step measured and precise, as if attuned to some quiet rhythm. He was the young guard I met in the tavern before.


For a moment, I wanted to approach him but instead, I watched him from afar. It's not like we're even close. But I got startled by his eyes as they found mine, and a hint of a smile softened his serious expression.


He closed the distanced between us.


“Good morning,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet like a warm breeze. “Seems I’m not the only one with an early start today.”


I returned his smile, feeling an unexpected ease in his presence. “Good morning.”


The guard's eyes flickered to my fingers fidgeting with the edge of my cloak. “Looking for something?”


I hesitated, feeling the weight of the broken locket chain in my pocket. “A chain...my locket's chain broke.”


His face lit up with a sudden thought, his eyes brightening with an idea. “I know just the person. My friend Simian. He’s exceptionally skilled with his hands, and his craftsmanship is unparalleled. He has a shop nearby.”


“Really? That would be wonderful,” I said.


He gestured for me to follow, his steps confident and assured. “I’m Josar by the way. I don’t believe we’ve formally introduced.”


I smiled, the name rolling easily off my tongue. “Nice to meet you, Josar. I’m Fauna.”


“Fauna,” he repeated, as if savoring the sound of it. “Sounds very Soreish, yet you look distinctly Allynn with your black hair and pale skin.”


His observation lingered in my mind. My name, Soreish? The thought was unsettling, yet oddly compelling. I had never given much thought to my origins. Whether I was Soreish, Jadvolish, Darjan, or Seruiani...I didn’t truly know. My name, my features—all seemed like pieces of a puzzle I was yet to solve.