Unlike the morning before, this morning the streets were filled to the brim with all manner of characters.  On the corners were criers peddling today’s news atop their soapbox.  

“ATTENTION! TO ALL MUSKREG MERCHANTS AND TRAVELERS ENTERING THE WESTERN WHARF: YOUR MONEY IS NO LONGER MADE GOOD BY CRENMITE!  PLEASE TRADE ITEMS OF EQUAL VALUE TO EITHER THE VENDOR OR THE CUSTOMER!”  Throughout the day, messages like this could be heard around the city at multiple intervals.  If you walked along the Wall in the West Wharf to both corners of the North and South, you’d have heard the same messages announced all around; a testament to the power of  Crenmite who often uses the news to maintain order and to keep us informed.

 

Between the buildings, Acou and I had taken the kids into the crowd of people where we were met by the cry of the news and the rush of the crowd.  Some would beg, others would squeeze what little they could out of the desperate.  In the Wharf, trade was often conducted by bartering between people with little in the way of money.  Some travelers would come with currency of their own; Canis, especially, came bearing small wooden plaques with funny little faces on them.  These travelers soon found that their money had little value here unless the recipient gave it value.   Only a guin is a guaranteed stand-in to be used in place of a trade; a chipping punched from its copper sheet that’s easily parted with.  

I’ve seen plenty of them in all their crude shapes and sizes, and snapped into halves and quarters, sometimes etched with a meaningless name and value from where the minters had tried to scam some unwitting fool.  The guin’s weight is all that can determine its value however, as even the most mangled of guins are always worth their weight.  That’s the lesson most of these outsiders learn after making a terrible mistake.  As for myself, I was fortunate to have been taught that beforehand by my brother.

“Please sir! If I don’t bring them the money they’ll keep my sister!”  One of our kids had grappled onto the coat of what looked to be a distinguished man and feigned a look of desperation, “Have a heart!”

“You’ll have my boot if you don’t let go, worm!”  The man thrusted his hip away from the kid, and turned to jab the kid in the thigh with his heel.  As the man huffed away, the others in our group chuckled, then rustled the kids' hair and teased him for his failure, soon returning to their own ventures.

Everything in the city was chaotic.  Salesmen would approach new faces left and right, offering whatever useless effects they had dedicated themselves to selling.  The stalls and shops had their own scams as well, although the two were more trustworthy than the former; shop owners especially were almost always local to the area, and had nowhere to go if they messed with the wrong person.  The branch shops and businesses, owned by some of the wealthiest in the Wharf, were the most trustworthy when buying, although their prices are almost always criminal.  Barred wagons would often park themselves in the middle of the busy streets, selling Cuni they captured from the planes; in fact, most Cuni I’ve seen are the ones being sold in wagons like these.

Today’s caged wagon of Cuni was being sold by a Canis with a hoarse voice, and at the front of the wagon was what I assumed to be the hunters each carrying a blunt mace meant for capturing rather than killing.  The hunters drunkenly giggled to themselves as they cheered on one hunter who had decided to relieve himself on a shivering girl within the caged wagon; her face and exposed arms bruised and battered, probably from when she was seized.  

The hoarse-voiced man listed off their qualities to every passerby before hurriedly swatting away the one pissing on the girls and shouting something about trying to make the girls look presentable. 

 

Market stalls were draped in eye-catching cloth.  Vegetable stalls would be roofed with bluish green cloth, instilling a desire for something grown out of the ground.  In front of the stall were plastic and woven baskets filled with veggies, and to the side was usually a large, foreboding man armed with the tools of a merc.  Stalls that couldn’t afford security were on their own, tasked with protecting themselves and their product.  If they were ever shaken down, no one would help them, not even in broad daylight with a busy street like this one.  For situations like that, it pays to have friends to fall back on.

From left to right I was berated by indifferent men and women passing us by on the road.  Standing still, even to the side, was a death sentence as someone of small stature.  I myself could barely see where we were going, as Acou and I braved the wave of adults heading every which way. 

Brushing past the towering crowd we passed more stalls: fruits, pottery, clothing, and whatever else one would feasibly need, arriving before our target for the day.  Four metal poles planted in the dirt sat on the ends of a circular wool rug, in the middle was a yellow circle and around that was a blue ring while the rest was red save for the frills on the end, which were yellow like its center.  The two poles behind the stall were smaller than the front poles, giving the yellow tarp overtop a slope toward its back.  And behind the stall were two clay ovens; they looked to be made with straw and gray clay that strengthened it against the heat, and the front looked like two halves of a circle.  The bottom half opened into an ashy tray where wood scraps slowly burned away, while in the top half there was a metal rack sitting inside.  

This was a popular pastry stall, and on all sides of the rug save for the ovens, were fresh sweet wraps.  Black and red berries lined the sides of the folded up slivers of a fluffy bread which was powdered with sugar.  Two guards protected this awesome treat, both carrying a segai in one hand while the other hand held an oval shield no bigger than my torso.  One of the guards, a staunch Ovis, held his segai along his back and under his arm, pointing it towards the ground.  On his right breast was a thick bronze plate strapped tightly to his side with leather that ran over his shoulder and under his armpit.  His other, less protected side had a large scar that ran across his peck to his stomach.  This man looks like a machine.  

His partner on the other hand, another Ovis, was more scrawny than his friend and had lazily sat his segai to the ground, leaning it against his leg. 

 

“I really don’t want to do this again, Mackie.  Last time I was almost caught.”

“Don’t be a wimp, just think of the sweet wraps!  Like old times, remember?”  Acou and I stood at a distance from the stall, as he gave me his reservations about the plan.  

“But look at that guy…”  Acou pointed towards the particularly scary Ovis at one side of the stall, the machine as I imagine his friends call him, “He looks like he might eat me.”  The Ovis, noticing Acou staring, gave him a smile and waved his segai at us, which only served to shake the both of us up even more.

“L-listen, we didn’t come out here for nothing.  And besides, what would the kids think if their big brothers lost their nerve here and ran away?”

“I don’t know… but I’m willing to find out.”

“Acou~”

“Alright, alright, but we better get the freshest ones.”

“That depends on how much time you buy me.  Now… good luck!”

The stall owner had left momentarily, making now the prime time to nab a tray.  Acou readied himself to begin our strategy, something we’ve done countless times in the past.  Closing the distance between him and the guard, Acou walked casually up to the big man, while I kept my distance maneuvering myself to the back, just behind the ovens.  Acou looked over the pastries until he saw I was in position, and then, our plan went into action.

“E-excuse me sir, could you hand me the f-fresh ones from the top?”  Acou quivered at the large man, who was all smiles; a rare reaction when talking face to face with a Frog, and one that had momentarily confused the both of us.  They don’t usually react to Acou, except to avoid him or make threats.  

At the stall the man turned to see the shelved sweet wraps, and reached up top grabbing a small tray that could fit four, and offered Acou the selection.

“The owner isn’t b-b-b-b-ack yet, b-b-b-but I can wrap-p one of these f~or you.”  

“T-thank you sir!”  Acou gently reached out to cradle the try onto his hand; a subtle way to motion the Ovis guard to let go which, sure enough, the Ovis did.

“HEY YOU DOLT, STOP THAT ROPETONGUE!”  The baker had returned with fury in his eyes, yelling his commands to his guards, but by then it was too late.  Acou shoved the tray to his chest and ran into the crowded street. “DON’T LET HIM GET AWAY!” The baker screamed at his guards to chase after, the big one running in first while the lazy one snapped back to the reality at hand and slowly followed his partner.

The baker wasn’t new to scams, as many kids have tried to steal from him or rip him off time and time again. Every time the stall hires new security, the neighborhood vultures start to swarm waiting for their chance.  Nothing gets by him, least of all a Frog like Acou who he can tell is trouble by first sight alone unfortunately for us.  The baker takes no chances with thieves, and almost always hires Ovis, a people famous for their endurance to catch any would-be runners when ease of movement doesn’t permit the use of Canis.  Acou had no chance to escape, but as long as he takes the two guards far enough, I can still profit.

Piercing though the waves of people and holding the sweet wrap tray close to his chest, I can see Acou struggling not to drop them as the sweet wraps themselves are squashed with every step he takes.  The people of the crowd who see Acou reel back in disgust at the sight of him, shoving him away or pushing themselves against the crowd to keep their distance.  

The large Ovis demanded room just from his figure alone, and the crowd obliged making as much room as they could; soon, it will be like a stream flowing around a stone if the Ovis keeps after Acou.  

Acou stopped in the center of the street, drawing out every second he could, and just before the people closed the gap made by the three, Acou took the tray and slung it away launching the sweet wraps at the two Ovis; after which, the crowd finally closed in on them, signaling that now it was my turn to act.  With the baker’s attention still on the scene Acou had made, and the Ovis now trapped in the gushing river of people, I climbed atop the table which sat at the base of the sweet wrap shelves, and ascended the shelf like a ladder, shaking the entire rack which alerted the baker.

“H-HEY–”  The baker looked dismayed as I quickly snatched a top tray, the freshest of the bunch, and ran as fast as I could.  From behind me I heard the baker scream for his guards to give chase, but the two were still trapped in the maelstrom of bodies.  I’m in the clear, surely.

But from out of the corner came a third element, one I hadn’t seen when scoping it out.  A young Ovis girl rushed out from just beyond my escape route into an alley; she wore dark brown pads ribbed like the wrinkles on a finger.  They only covered vital parts of her body, while underneath she was wearing dark green, almost black wrappings which formed a shirt and pants of sorts.  Though the shirt isn’t long enough, and as she runs it lifts up revealing her pale skin below.

 

On her hip was a cinq, and her palish hair was messily knotted at the top to keep it out of her face.  Her frame was small, her legs long, and what’s more, she was fast.  She broke around the corner at the behesting cries of the baker, and picked me out of the hundreds of people at the scene.  She moved at breakneck speeds, and her eyes focused in, forcing my legs to come to a halt for just a moment with an intense pressure bearing down.  My plan to meet up with Acou in the alley has been quickly thwarted, it seems, as I kicked my heel back and ran towards the pastry stall.  The baker and the two Ovis were already there waiting to pincer me between them and the girl; luckily, that’s what I had hoped they would do.

I began stuffing my mouth, shoving in two sweet wraps while I grabbed the other two and dropped the tray I had run away with.  Getting closer to the stall, I shifted my attention to the baker, who held his arms away from him preparing to snatch me.  From behind I could hear the thuds of hasty footsteps within the white noise of voices from the busy street.  I took a quick peek and saw a dozen people shoved to the ground from this determined woman on a mission.

 

“I GOT YOUUU–”  The baker reached out as I sidestepped and spinned my way past his arms, scraping my elbow the moment I fell to the ground.  Thinking he had gotten me, he turned and soon collided with the speedy Ovis girl who could no longer stop herself from crashing.  The two tumbled to the ground before me while the lazy Ovis guard laughed.  The big Ovis sprung to action and stepped over the two on the ground like a giant should.

I hopped to my feet and began running again, the large Ovis now in pursuit.  As I ran I kept turning to see my pursuer, bumping into every passerby along the way.  Turning to see the Ovis one last time, I crashed into a passerby that was sturdier than the others.  Grabbing me by my shoulders the moment we clashed they whispered,

“Third floor, open window.” The stranger then thrusted me into the street around the next corner; and as I looked back at the person, they were gone.  With no time to think, I saw a shaded alley with large sheets hanging from the side of the buildings.  At the top of one hanging sheet was, sure enough, an open window.

 

The street here was less busy, almost desolate, with most people using it to get to the street market just parallel at the intersection down this path.  The dusty road had patches of gravel which my foot had slipped on in my rush to the alley; thus, another fall had squashed an already smushed sweet wrap from the fall before.  In the alley, I grabbed the last pristine sweet wrap with my mouth leaving the other for Acou in my hand while I removed my shoes with my feet.  At the entrance to the alley was the large Ovis, now red-faced and huffing.  Every breath he took his stomach grew larger than I.

“Stop… hah… stop r-r-r-r-r-r… hah.”  The guard dropped his shield and segai and approached me just as I had gotten my left shoe off.  Facing the large sheets which covered the building before me, I ripped my claws into the fabric and began climbing, hoping the fabric wouldn’t tear.  The Ovis stood under me and shook the sheet making me rip through more than I meant to and fall slightly.  When I got near the top, the other’s from the stall had arrived and all four, including even the baker, pulled at the ends to get it to fall; the girl especially, looked the most determined to catch me.  The wind in the Wharf picked up again, and as the sheet was pulled and torn below, the building it was on also swayed.  An ominous creak screamed out from within the building as the wind howled on.

What lies below became harder to make out as the further I was from the ground, the more the smog blurred their figures.  I almost thought they’d given up, until they pulled so hard the wire which held the massive sheet began to snap, forcing me to grab onto the one adjacent.  Those at the bottom kept pulling, even after I changed sheets; still, I managed to reach that open window just behind one of the fluttering sheets.  I stretched my leg out to try and prop myself onto the ledge, but every time I did the sheet I was on would sway from those pests at the base.  

“Almost~ got it!”  I had gotten my barefoot to the ledge and pulled the sheet towards it as my claws ripped through.  Though my legs were inside, my back hung out while my hand was still in the sheet, assuredly splitting the fabrics and bringing me closer to capture; or at this point, death from a fall at this height.

Perhaps realizing my predicament, the large Ovis who’s intimidating figure was not yet  completely obscured by the smog, waved off his two partners.  The baker, enraged, shouted obscenities at the three but none of them continued to pull on the sheet propping me up.  Pulling the sheet towards the window ledge once again, I was able to safely enter the room of the building. 

The baker, in the aftermath of my escape, became enraged and the last thing I could hear before proceeding into the room was, “YOU’RE DEAD MEAT YOU SHITHEAD CAPTAIN!”

 

Inside, the interior was the same as the exterior, as all the walls were made of the same mix of bricks ranging from cinder to clay.  The wood floor was cold and grainy on my feet, feeling as though any pressure would send a splinter into my foot.  Some part of it made my feet curl when the room let out a deep groan, like it was alerted to my presence.

To the left was a single outcropping, the door busted in and porcelain bits on a blue and white tile floor from where a toilet and sink once was, probably smashed apart in an effort to sell away their parts.  I walked around the room finding not much left.  With my drool all over it, I shoved the last pristine sweet wrap into my mouth after having waited with it in my jaw on the way, the other sweet wrap still in hand, smashed and extra soggy and from the sweat.  

Deeper inside the room was a bedframe missing its legs and supports leaving only, well, the frame.  Beside it was a facedown picture frame, the peg on the back still folded outwards.  Walking over, I lifted the frame and found the picture inside torn, leaving only the bottom half of what was once probably a happy couple.  A Canis man and a woman who may have once lived in this department with their kid.  

Looking closer at the bed frame revealed painted figures in strange poses, now faded from time.  One raised its arm and tipped its hand while standing on one leg, while the figure next to it brought its hands together and lowered itself, still on one leg.  The entire row looked hand-painted, and very crude.

Stepping towards the door, my foot nearly fell through an old board from the wooden floorboard.  Luckily, I had caught myself just before falling completely, due to the glint of something underneath.  Lifting the board there was a space under the floor big enough for me to fit, and inside I came to find a very familiar looking box.  The small box in question was engraved on the front with burn lines, and the roughly engraved face of a small Canis girl looked back at me.  On the side was a shiny brass key that seemingly had no purpose, as the inside was empty… an empty music box.  The stand for the ballerina, which would usually dance while the music played, had nothing but her porcelain feet as the rest of her had been snapped off, and no gears or mechanisms were left inside for the brass key to turn.

Was this the box from before?  The sheen of the brass key, which had caught my eye now, bore a resemblance to the one I had dug through so much garbage to find back in Trash.  Yet once again, as I tried to recollect the events my mind found itself in the same haze as before.  I’m not sure what I saw, really.

Putting the box in my single pocket, the corner snagged the belt of my scabbard before I managed to force it inside.  The tiny space under the floorboards was dark, but the faint light from the window which crept by the sheets outside revealed murals painted on the bricks that divided this room from the next one over.  It was hard to make out, but the painting looked like a quaint village surrounded by grass and flooded with sunlight; a stark contrast to the city–

 

“THUMP THUMP THUMP!”

“Ah… shit.”  From out in the hall of the apartment were loud and sporadic thumps that made me jump so high I dropped the last sweet wrap in my other hand.  Reaching down I brushed off the gray and black specks before shoving it in my pocket with the empty music box, “Sorry, Acou.”  With caution, I climbed out from the space, and scanned the direction from where I had heard the noise.  The door to the apartment sat next to the doorway, its knob and hinges missing.  Holes on the side of the doorway told me a door was once attached, but something must’ve happened for this place to be so empty.  Buildings like this one that are in such a good condition aren’t just left abandoned. 

“H-hello?”  I stuck my head out of the doorway and called out for anyone in a hush, but there was no answer.  Whoever came through here must’ve made it to the stairwell just down the hall.

The hall in question was carpeted, with dingy stains along it and the walls.  Light came in through the apartment windows as none of the apartments had their doors attached, leaving just enough light to see where I was going.  The light rays which shone through revealed what my eyes couldn’t see; clouds of dust and whatever else mixed in.  I raised my shirt collar over my nose for what little protection it offered, and heard the floor creak as I walked to the stairs the footsteps had ran towards. 

The stairwell was dark upstairs and down.  There were no handrails on either side of the steps, and the ascending steps had large holes in them; their mouths surrounded by sharp wooden shards from where the boards had snapped after so many years of decay.  Any sane person would want to leave this place as soon as possible but– 

“THUMP THUMP THUMP!”

There it is again, this time from above by a couple of floors.  Seeing the stairs, and the creepy desolation of the building; truly, any sane person would be quick to leave, and yet– 

“THUMP THUMP THUMP!”

My chest tingled and churned, and by then I already knew Acou would have to wait a little longer for his dessert.

 

Slowly, I stepped up the stairs, being careful to avoid the parts that looked the most dangerous.  I slipped by the large holes and indentions in the steps, and carefully ascended to where I had heard the thumping noise.

Nearing the top of the building I saw the faint flicker of lamplight from an apartment at the end of the building floor.  I entered the hallway, it being identical to the one I had traversed before, and made my way to that swaying light.  Inside was what was once a suite, now turned into a dingy hole in the wall, and the only one with a swung open door still attached to its hinges.  Peering in I could see the windows had dark red drapes, probably the few draped windows left in this building, and the walls on its right side were busted down into the next room over; its own doorway boarded up. In the middle were two couches, and some mattresses on one side with a bar on the other.  Men were strewn about the room: on the floor, on the beds and couches, and even a couple on the bar table.  

“Ah fuck Marcel… this shit is loud, haha!”  One of them slovenly lifted up the end of a nozzle with a pod on its end; a vial of Beat, to be sure.  I had stumbled into a drug den, and the only conscious man was speaking to a wall, holding a conversation with some imaginary person named Marcel.

 

“And you can be momma!”  From behind the couch was a loud, untempered voice, followed by two large ears that perked up and swiveled over top of it.

“Did you hear me?!  You can be momma!”

The little girl sounded bratty, as most children are, when she called out to someone just out of view.  Though I know it’s none of my business, I can’t help but sneak a peek.   Staying low and out of sight from the one speaking to “Marcel”, I crept closer to the end of the couch and poked my head out to peer at whatever was behind.

“I heard you…”  Laying on a bed was an older girl, speaking in a frail voice to the younger girl who was carrying in her arms two dolls, both twined with stiff, dead grass.  The Cuni girl laying on the bed had blue bruises up and down her arm and on her legs.  Her inner thighs were green, black, and blue with large red scrapes just above her knees and as she listened to the small girl speak and play, she gave a faint smile contrary to her reddened, listless eyes.

“If you heard me then get up!” The younger Cuni shoved the older one but didn’t make a budge.  She then moved her small hands to the bruised arms of the older Cuni and began pinching at those.

“Ow ow ow!  Quit it!”  The older Cuni scolded her as she raised her head, and then her large ears twinged.  Swiftly, I hid behind the couch and hoped she didn’t see me, but soon both Cuni girls appeared; keeping themselves as low to the ground as I was.

“You there!  Who are you?!”  The older Cuni whisper-shouted as the younger one stood behind her, shyly facing towards the ground.

“Me? I-uh, I’m nobody.”  I started to scurry towards the exit when the older one grabbed me by my leg and yanked, forcing me to the ground.

“You! Are you with these freaks?!”

“I don’t have to do anything with them!  Just leave me alone and I’ll go!”

“My name is Joran!”

“I didn’t ask–”

“We were just outside of Muskreg when they grabbed us!  My sister and I were peddled by some slavers not far from here!”

“That has nothing to do with me– let go already!”

I tried yanking my leg free from her grip, but as we struggled the noise in the room got louder, and one of the men in the many beds rolled over in his sleep with a huff.  All three of us froze, waiting to see if he would move again, continuing when we were sure he wouldn’t.

 

“Kid, listen to me.  We don’t deserve to be here.  We just need a place to rest and hide for a while until I can get in touch with my warren.”

“I don’t care!  I don't even have a place for you to stay!  You think you’re the only one with problems?!”

“It doesn’t matter!  L-look just take my sister then!  Anywhere is better than here!”

“You’re just gonna pawn her off on a stranger?!”

“Anywhere is better than here!  Please!”  The Cuni girl silently stared for a moment, pressuring me for an answer to her outrageous request.  

“Y-you were sold and now the two of you have a master.  A-and maybe one day you’ll be let go–”

“You don’t understand!  We’ll never be free unless–”

“No, it’s you who doesn’t understand!  She’s not my burden!”  The younger Cuni, who up until now had remained silent, suddenly clinged to her sis and spoke through teary eyes.

“No– sniff,  I don’t wanna weave you!”  The snot from her nose ran over her lips and her sister lifted her shirt to wipe it off.

“You have to go with him, Fria.  I’d only slow you down with how I am right now.”

“B-but, I don’t wanna go– wahahah!”  The younger sister, red faced, suddenly broke out into a screaming tantrum.

“Nobody is leaving with anybody!  Shut her the fuck up!”  Fria grew louder and angrier.

“I– sniff, don't– eguh, wanna!”  Her cheeks wetted with tears, and the older sister Joran pulled Fria close to her, soothing her cries and wincing as Fria clung to her.

“That… looks like it hurts.”  I leaned closer from where we were on the floor, and grazed one of the bruises on her arm.

“Ack!”  She pulled away, obviously in great pain.

“What happened to you?”

“What happened to me?  Are you stupid, kid?”  She nodded her head towards the man on the couch, “Him and the rest are what happened.”

“What do you mean?  You mean… they did this to you?”

“Hah~ of course they did.  Do things like this not happen where you come from?”

“Well… they do, but to someone so young…”  Someone around my age, and Fria… even younger than that.  Slaves get punished, they get tormented, sometimes they’re battered when they get caught, but these two are children; why would anyone do this to children?  “There must be a reason for it?  Surely, they wouldn’t just senselessly–”

“Pfft, are you joking?  You have to be.  We’ve only just gotten to this city, and I’ve seen more girls like us senselessly beaten and raped than I’d care to admit.  My sister– my…”  She tilted her head to her sister who’d only just stopped crying, and was now basking in the warmth of their embrace.  She carefully ran her fingers through Fria’s hair, and caressed her back with a thoughtful touch,  “She doesn’t understand yet.  If we could only leave, she’d soon forget this place ever existed.”

“Don’t ever talk about leaving.  Do you know what would happen if they heard you speak that way?”

“What?!  What could they do that they haven’t done already?!”  

“They-they could kill you!”

“Hmph.  That wouldn’t–”  She cut herself off while Fria tugged on her shirt slightly.  Watching the two sisters, there’s a twinge deep inside of me.  Something like nostalgia; something I see in them that I’ve known in my own life.

“Maybe… maybe I can–”

 

“The hell is all this?!”  The “Marcel” man awoke and lifted himself from the couch, towering over the three of us, the Cuni girls freezing as he appeared.  “This one of your friends, Joran?” 

“N-no he’s not!  He just broke in here and–”

“Some little shit wanting to steal from me, eh?”  The man grabbed me by the wrist as Joran let go of my leg, and lifted me to my feet, pain shooting through my arm as he did. “Wait, I know you… you’re Besra’s kid aren’t you?”  The man changed his tone and stared at me with all smiles looking me up and down, as the older sister's eyes, which were listless and dead before, now widened and winced with terror at this man’s every motion.  He released his grip on my arm and plopped down on his couch which caused a small shriek to erupt from Joran.  

“Sir?  You knew my father?”  The man motioned me to sit on the couch adjacent to his own.  It was black and soft, with gray patches on the armrests and cushions where the finish had been rubbed off over the years.

“Knew him?  Little dude, we were in the same cadre!”  The man leaned his arm in my direction and revealed a tattoo inside a square on his arm where the fur had been shaved: stars, similar to those on my brother’s scabbard, oriented around “1088”, the number of stars in the sky and the name of 1088 Barrio.  “I used to watch over you and your brother when you two were little.  How is your brother anyways?”  

“Oh he… left the Wharf some time ago.”

“Oh… well good for him, haha.  How ‘bout your mother?”

“She’s… moved on.”  I found myself shaking when I spoke to this man.  Something about him had set off the alarms in my head to get away as fast as possible.

“Ah~ that’s a shame.”  He didn’t appear that taken aback by her passing; in fact, I’d say he’s almost smiling at learning that my mother passed away, “She was a… lovely woman; always knew how to take care of us, especially your father, haha~”  The man leaned back and took a hit of Beat, as he looked over to Joran.

“Hey snowscut!  What’re you doing just standing there?”  The man tapped his thigh and Joran came to his side, resting on his lap with her arms around his neck while keeping her face at a distance.  That dead look I had seen in her before had soon returned. “Why were you up here anyways?  You Abyssians always stick your noses where they don’t belong–”

“I just wound up in the building and was curious about the noise, that’s all!  And in any case, I really need to go, my friends are waiting for me–”

“You still meet with those garbage kids or whatever?  I thought you were making deliveries?  Your uncle must keep you pretty busy these days, haha~”

 

“What’s all this noise?”  One of the men sleeping on the mattresses had turned to see us four in the middle of the room, “Who’s that kid, Pyoni?”

“That’s Besra’s kid; you remember, the hardass?”

“Oh!  Kid, your dad was a real stoic in his days!  And he always had a new girl on his arm whenever I’d see him, ha!”  The gruff man lifted his shirt to scratch his belly, then eyed the girl Fria playing with her grass dolls, “And how’s Miss Fria?”  She ignored the man calling out to her, and kept playing by herself causing him to smirk.

“Want a hit?”  Pyoni reached out and offered me the Beat he’d been smoking; the nozzle was brass, and was pressed down whenever one needed to release the gas inside.

“No my– uh, uncle won’t let me go near the stuff.”

“That’s too bad, this shit is pretty fucking good, you know? haha~ Are you sure you don't want a hit?  Just one won’t kill ya…”  Pyoni sat back once again, and leaned his nose into Joran’s hair before taking another hit from the nozzle.  “Hey, what about that other garbage kid, Simone?”

“Simone?  I haven’t heard from him in a long time…”  There was a pause as Pyoni took a moment to collect his thoughts.

“And… that one Ovis girl?  What was her name… Mei?”

“Y-yeah–”

“Yeah, that was the one!  Haha, man, she must be a real butch these days.”  Pyoni pressed the nozzle and took another hit.

“Hey Fria, I’ll play dolls with ya if ya want.”  The Canis on the mattress was once again fixated on Fria.  She ignored him a second time, this time taking her dolls behind the couch on a side that he wouldn’t be able to see her from.

 

“Like I said, my friends are waiting for me so if I could–”

“Ha, that brat!”  The man on the mattress went to his feet and stumbled his way to the couch.  I could see Joran’s eyes widen from her dead slant to a scowl as he did.  His loud steps made me jump with each one he took, and Pyoni seemed to enjoy watching the dread spread over Joran and myself, as he couldn’t help glancing between the two of us, smiling to himself.

“Alright kid, don’t let this old splitlip take up too much of your time.  Maybe in the future, we can talk more about your old man.”  Pyoni stood and threw Joran aside to the couch,  “There’s probably plenty of stuff that not even your uncle knew.”

“Yeah, I’d… like that.”  Pyoni guided me to the door, and behind him I saw the mattress man press Fria’s face into the floor behind the couch; her face red, contorted, and filled with tears.  Joran, still on the couch, brought her legs to her chest and tore into her legs with her nails from how tightly she gripped them.

“Take care, little dude.”  Pyoni relished in the chaos, and his smile twinged upwards when his eyes met with mine. He shut the door to the suite, and as he did the piercing screams of a small child rang throughout the building’s top floors.

 

I stepped away from the door, and picked up the pace the further I got; eventually, running through the stairs and ignoring the danger of every step.  The sweet wrap and music box still rustling around in my pocket were the last things on my mind after having escaped a nightmare.