She stood now before a weathered wooden door, its trim painted with curling pastel leaves. A small basket of fruit and vegetables rested on her hip, bright reds and greens against woven straw. It wasn’t much, but it came from nearby towns offering aid. Enough to help quietly, without drawing notice. She raised her hand and knocked.
The door creaked open as lilac-colored eyes blinked up at her from the crack.
“Hey there. It’s Sorcha from the Circle.”
A tiny hand tugged the door wider. A girl stood framed in the light, straw-colored hair loose from a tired ponytail.
“Hi,” the girl said softly.
“Is your mom around?”
“She’s still sleeping.” The girl’s voice was barely above a whisper.
Sorcha glanced up; the sun was high now, midday. “Can I come in, Hazel?”
The girl nodded. Inside, the home was quiet and cluttered, dishes stacked, clothes scattered across the floor and piled near the door beside a pair of boots where hunting gear sat untouched.
Sorcha’s gaze swept the room and landed on the girl again. She knew this story: during the attack, the family had lost their father while he’d fought alongside the Circle. She set the basket on the counter and gave Hazel a smile.
“You know what? I’ve got some free time today,” she said, reaching for a broom. “Let’s play pick up.”
Hazel giggled as Sorcha began sweeping with exaggerated flair, twirling and dancing clothes across the floor. The girl jumped in, mimicking her moves by picking up a large shirt and dancing with it cross the floor. Laughter filled the small space between chores. Sorcha washed the dishes, tossed spoiled food, straightened piles but left the boots where they were. Some things weren’t hers to touch.
As they finished the last chore, Sorcha hears Hazel’s stomach rumble.
“I’m starving,” Sorcha said, brushing her hands off. “Want to come to market? Maybe we can grab a few things for home?”
Hazel’s face lit up as she bounded for the door barefoot.
“Your shoes!” Sorcha called after her, laughing.
Hazel skidded to a stop, turned, and ran back inside. She returned seconds later, feet covered this time.
On the way to the market, Sorcha let Hazel lead the way. Hazel stopped to sniff flowers, many times, giggling as she went by the fountain when dropletssplashed her cheeks. Vendors smiled and waved; most refused coin when they saw who Sorcha was with. Hazel ventured the market, venison was roasting over an open fire and Sorcha couldn’t resist. She dug her hands into her pockets, offering coin for venison and barley bread. An older gentlemen who wore a grief-stricken smile reached his rough hands to Sorcha and slowly closed her hand as he shook his head and handed her the food. Smiling back, Sorcha mouthed the words “Thank you” and turned toward a stone bench where they shared lunch. Hazel devoured hers quickly, Sorcha nibbling at hers, lost in thought.
At a nearby stall, a small wooden bear caught her eye. Next to it, a lilac scarf, the same soft shade as Hazel’s eyes.
She bought both.
The walk back was much the same as the way they came, frequent stops by flowers and even tracking a chipmunk that skittered across Hazel’s path. Eventually they made it back to the house where Sorcha unpacked the supplies.
“Here’s dinner for you and your mom, okay? And this…” She held out the scarf and bear. “This is for you.”
Hazel squealed, wrapping the scarf around her neck, already dancing with excitement with the bear. “I love them! Thank you!”
“You’re welcome.” Sorcha tousled her hair gently turning to the door, she paused. “If you ever need me, just ask anyone in the Circle.”
Hazel nodded. “Bye, Sorcha.”
She waved goodbye, her heart lighter than it had been in days.
After the last of the rounds of the day, Sorcha met with Kyron and the others at the tavern after their shifts. The day had given way to a quiet night, with only a sliver of the moon visible in the sky. Lanterns and stars provided the only light, casting a soft glow over the bustling streets. Inside, the tavern was warm and lively, filled with the hum of conversation and the clinking of pints.
Rhosyn, Drystan, Mason, and Eirin were already seated around a table, their drinks in hand, when Sorchaarrived. Kyron hadn’t yet joined them, which gave her the opportunity she’d been looking for. She slid into a chair between Rhosyn and Eirin, ordering a tea already. “So,” she began, her voice low, “what do you all think of Kyron?”
Drystan leaned back in his chair with a theatrical sigh. “Dreamy. Absolutely dreamy.” Mason rolled his eyes, his shoulders stiffening. “He’s… alright. I’ll give him this… he’s been a big help with the rebuilding, and he fought hard for us. I can’t really say anything bad.”
Rhosyn added thoughtfully, “He’s knowledgeable, more than most, honestly. He knows a lot about the history of the realms, runes, herbs. And he’s been nothing but kind to everyone.”
