Hiraeth: Awakening

30

The sun-warmed pavement scalds Ivory's bare feet as she wanders Aglia with the eyes of a prisoner freed from years of fear. Despite the burn of the ongoing heat, she is giddy on her toes. The worst that could happen now is being thrown into the dungeons, and although that would be a terrible curse in itself, at least they would not deprive her of food.

The crow is still sitting with pride on her shoulder. He reminds her of his presence with the casual cackle or two during every other hour. Ivory hopes he will forgive her for having broken her promise; when they arrived back at the shore earlier last night, there was no sign of his parents whatsoever, so, she decided to take him in, instead.

She wonders if the bird misses them, or if he was quick to forget—to adapt to the new situation, with a certain ease she admires in the creature. "Maybe I should give you a name," Ivory mutters, as he nudges her jaw for the third time today. "Or... how does this work." She frowns. "Perhaps, you already have one?"

The bird gawks, then caws once more.

"Ah..." Ivory tilts her head and snickers in a manner so awkward that it makes two passersby stop and stare—granted, they could not have guessed she is talking to the bird. "Sorry, little guy," she tells him. "I wish I could understand you."

Her eyes wander to the top of a nearby tavern. Its front sign is shaped with letters that form the name Robin. The crow shakes his feathers and seems to dance on himself. She laughs. "You like Robin, huh?" Another nudge, the tickle of feathers against her skin. "All right, fine, then." Ivory gives the bird's belly two scratches before pulling away. "Robin it is!"

They pass the main gates, where two people are trying to enter Aglia. They don't seem to be arguing with the guard, though, it isn't as if he's letting them pass either.

Before the soldier in question can turn around and spot Ivory in all her glory—curtain-skirt and filth-covered skin—Ivory has dashed across the road and onto to the next street. Part of her wishes she could thank those two visitors, for she isn't sure she'd have made it this far without their much needed distraction.

She settles for keeping them in her thoughts, and praying that they will be let through without receiving too much trouble from the city's guard.

Ivory peers at her surroundings. Aglia's slums are far behind in her now. It is easy to tell by the way the buildings do not curve, and beg for renovations. How some roofs are slathered in gold, along with the sight of brilliant doorknobs, built in the shape of emblems that represent a lineage of noblemen and women alike, who are surely unwinding and sipping tea from within their comfortable domains.

Her stomach grumbles at the thought of tea. She sighs. She places a hand across her stomach. It's been almost three days now since she's caught hold of even a crumb, and the matter is beginning to weigh on her, especially as she passes a bakery whose entrance is open. The scent of fresh bread and pastries waft out into the streets. For the first time in her life, Ivory finds herself cursing how clean Aglia is. There aren't any traces of garbage to be found anywhere.

Ivory had not gone looking for trash until this day, yet, even after hours of waltzing up and down the city, she was unable to recover any place where scraps are burned, or dumped. It is almost suspicious. Where do they keep it? The question looms over her head like an old ghost. Surely, they do not make it disappear with magic?

Such things should not be possible.

She takes a step to the right, with the intention of entering another street. But a single hand grips her shoulder that does not carry Robin, and holds on tightly.

Ivory gulps. She braces herself to start making up whatever excuse she can find in order to avoid trouble. Yet, when a soft and gentle voice speaks her name, it is not a telltale fable that escapes her, but a gasp.