Chapter 40

The crowded walkways never seemed to settle. Although an hour had passed, the lively spirit of the market did not yield. This was different than what Anya was used to. The child remembered her time in Black-Rock when there was a dedicated downtime agreed upon by the courtesy of the townsfolk. A time in which all was quiet and only the soft duet of wind and crackling fire whispered into her ears. The already darkened skies grew ever darker, and the chilly air blanketed the town in an unpleasant cold. Labor during this time meant to further squander what little resources the town had to spare, thus when the last traces of grey faded out of the clouds, the tired sank themselves into a solemn slumber.

Not Anya, of course. She neither worked nor played with others, sleeping only when her body commanded it to be necessary. At first her father scolded the child for her skewed sleep pattern, but eventually, the man became too busy to do even that, leaving Anya to her own vices.

“Does the city never sleep?” the child asked. Before entering the great walls of Luminus, she watched the dimming skies as the goosebumps surfaced from underneath the thin cloth. If they were at her old dwelling of Black-Rock, the buzzing lights would have been hushed as the walkways became devoid of life. Only a few unlucky patrols would grudgingly tread along the cracked concrete, attending to their obligations.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Because back in my hometown, the streets would be empty by now. Don’t these people need rest?”

“Well, the merchants at the stands switch out with every half cycle,” Emma replied. “If you come here before darkfall, there are even more people roaming the streets.”

“More than this?!” The child’s eyes gleamed.

“Yes, even more than this. How about this? After we get some rest, we’ll check out the market after the stalls rotate. Would you like that?”

Anya nodded with delight and the two continued on their way. As the child scanned her eyes across the excitements to be seen, Emma stared at the child with a sense of warmth she could not understand. It reminded her of the same emotion she felt during her dream, when the unfamiliar man cared for her.

Why? she wondered. Why was the dream so vivid? Why was I able to remember all the details? Who could that man be? Could he…?

“No,” she muttered to herself. “I must be overthinking things… It was just a dream…”

“HEY!” a sudden aggressive voice shouted from afar, pulling Emma out of her rabbit hole of thoughts. “GET OFF OF ME!” The distant man screamed louder, and both Anya and Emma’s eyes were drawn to the crowd.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, Anya, but I don’t think we should-” Before the woman could finish her sentence, the child had already dashed off. After a brief sigh, Emma chased after the little girl who struggled to bypass the dense wall of denizens. The crowd, though thick at first, dwindled as the barricade of interest soon vanished, allowing the child to observe what laid behind. On her knees was an old woman, aged by tired labor, wrapped by wrinkles, prostrating herself to any who stood before her.

“Please,” the old woman begged, “find my boy! Find him!”

“Get off of me!” the man screamed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” And once the elderly woman was pushed away, she latched onto another passerby, repeating the same plead.

“My boy, Joah, please give my boy back to me!”

Anya stood stunned at the crazed woman’s desperate struggle. The old lady gripped onto the pedestrian's clothing, smudging filth across their pristine adornment. Many scurried off after pulling away, however, those who found the old woman’s grasp to be too fierce resorted to a stomp of the boot. Anya was neither sure of what course of action to take nor what was going on. She wanted to help the poor old lady, but found herself frozen in confusion. In a brief moment, the child met a pair of clouded eyes. Suddenly, the woman lunged at Anya and gripped her by the shoulders.

“Joah! Joah! Is that you?!” The old woman’s eyes stretched wide open, and her bloated veins popped a darkened red. With every smack of her bruised lips, a spray of foul saliva showered unwelcomely onto Anya’s cloak. “My boy… you’ve gotten so skinny… come home with Ma.” She tugged at the astonished child who refused to move. “Come on! Come on! Come home with-”

“That’s enough!” shouted Emma. She grabbed onto the old woman’s hands and forcefully de-latched the crazed, intrusive grasp. Emma then ushered the child behind her and stood firmly between the two, still gripping the old lady’s wrist. “What do you think you’re doing!?”

“W-Who are you? G-Give me back my child!” The old woman attempted to break free as she jabbed her fist into Emma’s armor. Unfortunately, her violent efforts only resulted in self-injury. “LET GO OF ME!”

“What’s going on here?!” Hurriedly, a group of guards arrived at the scene with weapons drawn. Their sight was instantly drawn to the old woman, and immediately, they pulled her away without question.

“W-What was that…?” asked a very distraught Anya.

“It’s nothing, move along,” the remaining guard commanded.

“W-What do you mean it’s nothing? That was something!”

“It doesn’t concern you.” After he dispersed the crowd, the guard left without another word.

When Emma’s eyes met the child’s, she saw that Anya stared back in hopes of finding answers, but she, too, was unsure of the occurrence.

“Poor O’ wench…” Hearing the deep raspy voice, Anya turned to its source: an old man with a lushful white beard wearing a grease-stained tank top. “The old fool is still at it.”

“You!?” Emma did not recognize the man’s voice at first, but upon sighting the cart he pulled, she instantly remembered. “You’re the leg meat salesman!”

“Oi, it ain’t leg meat. It’s ‘Leg O’ Meat,’ and I ain’t got no mor’ to sell. You gotta come back next cycle if ya want another.”

“Hey!” interrupted the little girl. “Who was that old lady? And what happened to her? Why was she like that and where did they take her?!”

“Hmm… So, you ain’t from around here either. That crazy old lady, well, it ain’t a good tale. Husband died and she spent her fortuine look’n for her missin’ boy. Never found him, now she ain’t right in the head no more.” Under the man’s beard, veiled a solemn frown, one which was hidden, but still casted his emotions outwardly. “Last I’ve heard, she lost her home and lives outside the walls… picked up some habits too.” He voiced a sigh as he shook his head. “What a shithole she’s gotten into.”

“Why didn’t anyone help her?!” inquired the child.

“Well, people did, then her wallet ran dry… Other peoples gotta feed their families too.”

With a brief glimpse, he saw the child’s angered expression. Something the man did not want to deal with, so he grabbed onto his cart and began to pull away. “Ain’t nothing we can do for her now.”

“Anya…” said Emma, placing her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Let’s get going…”

Anya did not respond, instead, she stared silently to the direction where the desperate woman vanished.

As the commotion died, the lively sounds of the vehement venue returned. Among them, the child stood, not a single word spoken. She glanced around, bewildered by the unnatural and unnerving normality of the passing pedestrians. A slight sickness accumulated within her, not of nausea but of disgust. Anya turned around and clenched tightly onto Emma’s hand.