Five Pennies and a Loaf of Bread

The World outside the Grey Tower is a vast place.
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Sunny
"Knife of Dreams"
Posts: 3757
Joined: July 18th, 2014, 3:23 am
PC: Jaryd Kosari
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Five Pennies and a Loaf of Bread

Post by Sunny » December 29th, 2017, 6:49 pm

Note: this is retrospective canon for Jaryd's story.
Bertim Nohara, Tavernkeeper
The boy facing Bertim certainly did not look like a menace.

The slender youth lounged against a crumbling stucco wall, head cocked to the side as he studiously cleaned his fingernails with the tip of his knife. He wore loose brown breeches, a green vest, and very little else. Even his feet were bare, toes buried in the fine silt that covered the ground. That same dust coated his dusky skin in layers and clung to his abundance of dark curls. In fact, the only thing about his person that seemed untouched by dirt was the knife; that glittered in the half-light of the alley.

Jaryd was just a boy. A boy that could fit inside Bertim’s frame three times over with room to spare. Not a threat.

Dark eyes looked up from the knife, regarding him from beneath a set of lashes to put any woman to shame. The tavern keeper licked his lips, feet shuffling backward without thought under that intent gaze. His heels hit brick first, then his shoulders. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” he said. It sounded like a whine even to his own ears and he cursed himself silently. He’s just a boy.

His adversary arched an eyebrow. “Don't lie to me,” Jaryd said. There was no animosity in that statement, nothing but calm confidence. “I have eyes in every room and ears at every door, Bertim.”

Bertim felt a line of sweat drip down his temple, and his eyes flicked to the alley’s entrance without his bidding. Just a few short steps away. A few steps and he could be back on the street. Just a boy, he reminded himself, but it held no weight. It was a lie and Bertim knew it. There would be no leaving the alley. Not yet.

“She’s a liar and a thief,” he said instead, licking his lips. “I gave her an honest job and she stole from me. What could I do?” Why couldn’t the little chit have been happy with what he paid her? It was better than the nothing she’d been getting on the street. He hadn’t liked her from the start. Too much attitude, too many opinions.

“Marisa does not lie or steal.” The youth paused to consider those words for a moment, brows pulled together thoughtfully. “Not without my prior knowledge anyway,” he amended with a chuckle, as if the girl’s bad habits were some kind of joke. “She took only what she was owed.”

He knew. How did he know? “She didn’t-”

“The Wise Women say it will take weeks for her to recover. You nearly beat her to death for the sake of five copper pennies and a loaf of bread. Is that how little a life is worth to you, truly?” He sounded…philosophical...but something glittered in those feminine eyes.

“Thieves must be punished or they just keep stealing. Who are you to change that?” Bertim demanded, fists clenched. “We had terms. She didn’t meet them. Instead of accepting her due, she stole from me. By the Light, I will not-”

The boy pushed off the wall toward Bertim too fast for the latter to react. One hand grabbed the tavern keep’s arm and slapped it against the brick next to his head; the other pressed the knife against his wrist. “The next time you lay a hand on anyone, I will remove it. Slowly,” Jaryd told him. Blood welled as the blade bit into Bertim’s skin. It took so little pressure; he had a breath to stare at it in morbid fascination before pain lanced up his arm. “You will make certain Marisa’s mother is well cared for until the girl recovers from her injuries. Are we clear?”

“Why would I do anything for that little bit-” he cut off with a yelp as the knife bit deeper. “Yes! Yes I will.”

“Good.” Jaryd stepped away and looked about him as if seeing the alley for the first time. “Be sure you don’t forget, Bertim. I will know.” He flashed a bright smile, and just like that he sauntered to the street and was gone.
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False alarm- there's still a song for me; I'm just about around to sing it
There's still a chance for me...and I'm still here singing.

Sunny
"Knife of Dreams"
Posts: 3757
Joined: July 18th, 2014, 3:23 am
PC: Jaryd Kosari
SC: Dakson Torellion
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Re: Five Pennies and a Loaf of Bread

Post by Sunny » December 29th, 2017, 9:29 pm

Jaryd
Jaryd squatted on his toes, his back to the wall next to a door that led into the street. His chest heaved for air, but inside he felt calm and clear, alive in a way he wouldn’t trade for the world. It had started some time back, confidence wrapping around him like his mother's arms, guiding his steps as he took his friends away from danger. He listened intently, one hand on his knife hilt, until all signs of pursuit had faded into the distance. Then he relaxed, turning his attention back to his companions and flicking his fingers in the ‘all clear’ signal they all knew.

“That was amazing,” Eban crowed. A huge grin spread over his pale face, teeth gleaming in the dusty half light of the room. He reached into his pockets and began to pile the contents on the floor before him. Coins. Chains. Jewelry. An engraved watch. “I don’t think I’ve run that fast in a year and I’m going to be bloody sore tomorrow, but it was worth it.” He pulled a jeweled dagger from his boot and a book inlaid with silver from the front of his shirt before finally sitting back with a pleased sound.

Adwal chuckled as well, fingers trailing through the wealth. He and Eban were rarely seen apart, nevermind that Adwal was a chocolate-skinned giant and Eban little more than a pale wisp of flesh. “You’re getting soft,” Adwal commented seriously, “next time I’ll have to carry you.” His eyes cut to the side to see the effect of his words on his friend.

The jeweled knife went from the ground to Adwal’s throat in less than a breath. “Take it back!” Eban’s hands were tangled in wild black hair, yanking the other man’s head back at a painful angle. “Take it-” Adwal’s hand wrapped around Eban’s wrist, big fingers pinching just so, and the knife fell from nerveless fingers. Eban punched him, Adwal poked Eban in the eye. The fight began in earnest then, the two participants heedless of the coins they scattered across the wood floors or their other companions who hastily shoved themselves out of the way.

For his part Jaryd did not move from his spot by the door. When the scuffle came too close he simply put his hand up and pushed them away with a laugh. They would do what they did, and Jaryd did not begrudge them their fun, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

He and Eban were excellent thieves, but better as scouts. Marisa’s nimble fingers and quick wit would have made all the difference in that run, and everyone knew it. They would not have been caught in the merchant’s warehouse like they were, would not have had to run so fast, would not have had to chance revealing one of their safe houses to the Civil Guard. It had been worth the risk; he knew that. The man who owned Master Ferone’s shop wanted his rent and Mistress Corizaki’s children needed food. His own band were hungry, for that matter, and the stolen wealth would get them food without putting strain on their families.

Marisa should have been there, however, not recovering from a beating caused, in part, by Jaryd’s faulty judgment. Bertim got off too easily. Perhaps he could pay the man another visit?

His thoughts drifted despite himself. He couldn’t seem to hold on to any particular theme for longer than a few moments, each idea splintering apart like shards of a fallen mirror. The air chilled so abruptly that Jaryd twisted to look up at the boarded window to see if the weather had changed. The sun still beat between the cracks, however, relentless in its brilliant heat. The others hadn't noticed the temperature change...

The slender youth rubbed his hands on his upper arms and squeezed his eyes shut as realization struck. “Blood and ashes, no,” he muttered, teeth chattering. “Please no.” He couldn’t afford to be sick again. Not like this. Not. Bloody. Now!

“Hey, are you okay?” Jaryd looked up to find the fighting had stopped. Adwal knelt straddling Eban’s prone body, laughing as his captive struggled for freedom, and one of the others was handing a coin to a fourth with a disconsolate grumble. The question itself came not from them, but from Merl, who crouched near Jaryd with a concerned look on his face.

“I’m-” Jaryd’s head swam, and suddenly everything was too bright, too loud, too present. Sweat bloomed on his brow and the cold turned to heat immediately, the dusty air burning him alive. “No.” He caught himself with his hands as he fell forward, staring at the floor with blank eyes. “No I’m not.” They were simple words, but it took his entire mind to string them together.

*

Jaryd lay on a pallet with a blanket pulled up to his chin. The world was still fuzzy around the edges, every bit of light stretching out as if viewed through tears. Adwal and Eban sat nearby, talking in low voices. Of the others there was no sign. “Where is everyone?” he asked. Or tried to ask. The words would not form. Abruptly it was far too hot, and he kicked the covers away from himself with a groan. The light from the candle blinded him; he closed his eyes against the light.

*

This time Merl sat nearby with a book in his lap. Of the group, only he and Marisa and Jaryd could read. It was a legacy of the hope their parents had had for them before they had slipped so easily into the life or death battle that was the streets of the Rahad. Whatever he read now had the other Altaran enthralled; he ran his thumb nail between his front teeth as he read, dark eyes intent on the page.

He must have heard something, because he looked up. “Do you need anything?” He asked, concern in his voice. Jaryd grunted and ran his tongue over his lips. He couldn’t form words. Merl shook his head with a smile. “It would be like you to get sick and die right when things are finally coming together, wouldn’t it?” His voice was kind despite the words he chose to share and his hands were gentle when he pressed a mug against Jaryd’s mouth.

It smelled of herbs, but Jaryd drank eagerly before he fell back to the cushion. “I definitely did this on purpose,” he said with a breathless laugh. He tried to stretch, but his muscles screamed in protest. “Light, I hurt.”

Calm spread from his core. He had more he wanted to say, but Merl was petting his hair like a bloody cat, and somehow he could not fight the soothing sensation. He slipped away once more.

*

This time when he woke, Marisa was there. Dark bruises marred her face and she had one arm in a sling, but she was there. “What are you doing here?” Jaryd demanded, pushing himself upward to rest on his elbows. “You should be resting.”

“Says the one who can’t stand up,” Marisa quipped.

Jaryd lifted an eyebrow as he swung his legs around, pushing himself off the makeshift bed with ease. “I’m fine,” he said, stretching. And he was. That was how those odd…fits, illness, whatever they were…went. It had been months, and he had long since stopped trying to find answers. “How long was I out?” he asked, curious.

“Just for the evening. These bouts are getting shorter, you know.” While he blinked at that bit of information, Marisa reached behind her and grabbed a pile of white linen. “Put on a shirt, would you? Maybe you wouldn’t get sick if you actually wore clothing.”

“Maybe,” Jaryd said doubtfully, but he took the shirt.
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False alarm- there's still a song for me; I'm just about around to sing it
There's still a chance for me...and I'm still here singing.

Sunny
"Knife of Dreams"
Posts: 3757
Joined: July 18th, 2014, 3:23 am
PC: Jaryd Kosari
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Re: Five Pennies and a Loaf of Bread

Post by Sunny » January 3rd, 2018, 5:24 pm

Jaryd
When the sun lingered in the evening and the oppressive heat of the sun on brick grew too much, Jaryd’s band escaped to the south, following the east bank of the Eldar nearly to the Eastpoint Lighttower at the mouth of the bay. The place was a barren wasteland of mud traps and sharp rocks interspersed with thorny weeds for miles, but just where the shore dipped wes the swampy water receded a bit. There they knew they could find a wide beach covered with pebbles and shells. The older the motley crew grew, the less frequently they went, but each visit was a golden point of light in their otherwise dangerous lives.

They spent the afternoon talking and laughing, chasing each other about like the children they were beneath all their glower and threats. Somewhere along the way they gathered driftwood and bracken and piled it high, daring each other to place just one more stick. As the sun touched the horizon to the west, Jaryd went to work with his dagger and a bit of flint.

The pyre caught quickly, tall fingers of light rising into the twilight air, and time seemed to stand still.

Adwal had his head on Eban’s thigh; the northerner played with the big man’s hair as he stared at the flames, seemingly unaware of the gesture even as he performed it. Marisa sat with her knees to her chest, while Jaryd sprawled nearby on his belly, chin in his hands. Merl had one arm thrown over skinny Breanna, their heads tipped together as if they had stopped speaking mid-word. The world felt otherworldly, surreal, hushed and separate from the reality they knew so well.Thus they sat, watching the fire without moving or speaking, until the sun had vanished entirely.

Eventually a log lost its placement and fell in a shower of crackling sparks. They all at once seemed to realize where they were, stirring and looking around in a rustle of fabric and soft sounds. Adwal stretched, then rolled upright with a muffled grunt. “Food?” he asked, reaching for the pack he had brought with him.

He produced dried meats and fruits, hard cheese, exotic nuts, fresh bread, and a red wine that promised to go straight to their heads in the sultry heat. Jaryd gave Adwal an odd look as he took his share. “Where did you get this?” he asked quietly. Ebou Dar proper was the only place with such fine selection and they both knew it. The real question was where specifically. Some places were much less friendly than others and the meal reeked of the dangerous sort.

“If I told you, you’d just tell me I was a dumbass and not to do it again, boss.” Adwal gave an exaggerated wink and slapped the Altaran on the shoulder so hard it nearly knocked him down. “I didn’t hurt nobody, you just let it go this once, okay?” After regaining his balance and giving the larger man another intent look, Jaryd nodded and turned away.

He settled next to Marisa, who appeared to be sorting through the pebbles on the beach. “There are so many colors,” she said. “Looking at the whole beach it’s just gray, but when you examine each rock, look-!” The young woman held her hand out and Jaryd carefully set his food aside to take the offering. Marisa gave him three pebbles: one rusty red with odd bits of blue interspersed, one gray like slate, but smooth as an egg, and one yellowish with black veins.

“They’re lovely,” Jaryd said, passing them back to her after rolling them about for a closer look. “Which is your favorite?”

She grinned. “Oh, none of those.” She set them in the growing pile by her knee, then shuffled through the rest until she withdrew a flat stone roughly the size of her thumb. “This one.” He reached for it and when she let go, he pulled it closer to his face. Somehow the thing had been burnished so smooth it resembled black glass; he could see the fire reflecting on its surface in liquid-smooth lines. He had never seen anything like it before.

“Wow,” he said in unfeigned appreciation. “That’s a beauty. Are there more of them?” He looked around curiously.

“Not that I’ve seen.” She fell backward and stretched, back arching off the ground with sinuous grace and her tied up skirts falling up to reveal her thighs. Jaryd watched her move, eyes wide and lips parted, until he realized she was looking directly at him. She had an odd smile on her face.

He closed his mouth with a click of his teeth and looked away, his cheeks hot with something other than the fire. “I’m- sorry.” He hated that he stammered, hated that twist of uncertainty that kept him from speaking to her as he did to the others. Hated it all with the power of the southern sun.

“I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think you’d look,” Marisa commented with an amused chuckle, her tone so matter of fact that Jaryd almost didn’t grasp what she was saying. She gave him no time to respond. “I’m going to get some food.”

She brought Merl when she returned and she seemed to have forgotten about both the rocks and their exchange. They ate and talked amiably about this and that as the moon rose, then just as companionably cleaned up their mess, kicked out the fire, and headed home in the dark. Through it all Jaryd ignored the hot squirming feeling in his belly...and if the shiny black rock made it safely into his purse rather than back to the ground? Well, no one saw him do it, so no one could hold him accountable for his actions.
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False alarm- there's still a song for me; I'm just about around to sing it
There's still a chance for me...and I'm still here singing.

Sunny
"Knife of Dreams"
Posts: 3757
Joined: July 18th, 2014, 3:23 am
PC: Jaryd Kosari
SC: Dakson Torellion
TC: Finn
QC: Owen Andarin

Re: Five Pennies and a Loaf of Bread

Post by Sunny » January 3rd, 2018, 7:37 pm

Jaryd’s feet slid through dirt, his toes feeling out every crack in the broken cobblestone as he shifted away from his adversary. This duel had been going for some time, knives flickering and slicing in the sun, and both were getting tired. Ganek threw insults with every move, but Jaryd remained silent, his eyes intent on the man’s chest. Yes. Left, then up. Around. Slide through and-

His triumph cut off when he felt something cold bite just below his arm. The chill pushed between his ribs and abruptly pain flared through his body, flared so strong his thoughts froze. Jaryd stumbled back, his free hand scrambling up his side. There was noise, crashes, angry cries, but they sounded distant and warped beyond the pulsing heat in his side. He cocked his head when his fingers brushed across something solid that should not be there. A knife? That couldn’t be right. Everything felt off, actually. He took a step and his legs betrayed him; his shoulder hit the wall and he slumped there, gasping for breath that was suddenly difficult to find.

Move! That thought, at least, was clear.

He pulled the knife free and let it fall, feeling hot liquid bubble through his fingers when he pressed them against the wound. That’s going to hurt. When he could feel anything, anyway. For now a fog descended, mercifully pushing sensation away. The youth pushed himself upright and took a step. A second. A third. Ganek should’ve been all over him by now, he was the proverbial wounded beast. Where was he? Who stabbed me? It hadn’t been Ganek; that blade had come from behind.

Something grasped his free arm and lifted it. Jaryd pushed back blindly, but the force would not be denied. Well then, not much to be done. He let the presence do what it wished, vaguely aware that that probably wasn’t wise. Why not? He couldn’t remember. A moment later his hand settled on something warm and there was an arm around his waist. “Anyone told you you’re an idiot lately, Kosari? Walk!”

Merl. That made a lot more sense, although it occurred to Jaryd that his friend hadn’t been there before. Where did he come from? Where had Ganek gone? That was trivial; Jaryd pushed the thought away and forced himself forward, step by step.

*

“For the love of the Light, it’s a job. Utterly mundane! It’s not like I’m invading the Tarasin bloody Palace.” Marisa tucked a dagger up her sleeve as she spoke, then went down on one knee to check the straps that held her boot knife in place. “We need food, Jaryd.” Jaryd grunted, the sound conveying neither acceptance nor rejection of that statement. They did need food and it was just a job. It was work he and Marisa had done together a thousand times or more. It had even been his idea that she go alone, but that didn’t mean he had to like the necessity.

Marisa looked over at him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she frowned. Then she pushed herself to her feet and came to face him. He tilted his head up to watch her face without moving from where they had propped him. He wouldn’t be able to stand before she pushed him back and ordered him to rest or something equally inane. It wasn’t like this was the first time someone had put a knife in him! Why were they all in such a fluster about it?

“If you so much as think of coming after me I will punch you in your pretty face, Jaryd.”

Perhaps being housebound made him irritable. Perhaps it made him stupid. Regardless, words flew without thought: “I’d like to see you try.”

The words barely had time to fade before Marisa had her knee crushed between his thighs and a fist wrapped in his hair. He froze with his hand halfway to his dagger, torn between protecting himself and dark curiosity regarding her intentions. At least she wasted no time satisfying the latter. “You’re an ass, you know that?”

“So I’ve heard,” Jaryd said in the dryest of tones.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he continued, worry coloring his voice before he could smooth it away. That was an utterly absurd thing to say to an offended Ebou Dari woman. If he didn’t end this day missing his tongue (or worse), he would consider himself damn lucky. “We’re already down two people, we can’t afford to lose anyone else,” he added hastily before she got the wrong idea about his intentions.

“You would have no problem sending Lien to do this if he wasn’t nursing a broken arm.” Jaryd gave another noncommittal grunt and Marisa scowled. “Knock it off, Jaryd. I don’t want sore knuckles tonight, but your face is begging for my fist right now.”

Jaryd considered what she said and reluctantly found he had to concede the point. It wouldn’t bother him as much to send Lien, though not for the reasons Marisa likely suspected. Better not to open that particular chest of problems.

He lifted his hands slowly, palms out, until they were level with his face in the universal signal of surrender. “Just- be careful. Please.”

Marisa scrambled backward, then pushed herself to her feet. “I’m going to kick your ass when you’re feeling better, Kosari.” Then she was gone.
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False alarm- there's still a song for me; I'm just about around to sing it
There's still a chance for me...and I'm still here singing.

Sunny
"Knife of Dreams"
Posts: 3757
Joined: July 18th, 2014, 3:23 am
PC: Jaryd Kosari
SC: Dakson Torellion
TC: Finn
QC: Owen Andarin

Re: Five Pennies and a Loaf of Bread

Post by Sunny » January 5th, 2018, 5:27 am

The rest of the day passed slowly. Jaryd sharpened his knives and everyone else’s, mended his breeches, and discussed what to do about Regere’s band of bully boys with Eban and Merl. Adwal and Breanna produced some sort of stew for supper which he ate without complaint. When it was time to clean up he pushed himself to his feet and gathered the dishes. Merl opened his mouth to object, but Jaryd stared at him, flat-eyed and thin-lipped, until the other Altaran sat back.

It hurt to move. Dear Creator, it hurt. He scrubbed the dishes regardless, only setting them aside once they were truly clean. As close as this group was, between the odd bouts of illness and this injury, there was more than enough to instill doubt in his capability as a leader. Years of work undone for the sake of an honorless snake with a dagger? I think not. Jaryd thought bitterly as he finally turned away from his work. He could endure far more discomfort to keep that from happening.

They talked more, time passing quickly in the lively conversation. Eventually, however, Jaryd gave instructions to Adwal and Eban and they departed on their own missions. Breanna still stayed with her parents most days, so she slipped away on her own soon after. When the door closed behind her, Merl settled down in a corner with his book and the stub of a candle. Thus Jaryd found himself blessedly free from direct observation.

The wiry youth collapsed onto his pallet with a grunt, settling his back carefully against the wall before digging under the folded padding for the auger he had borrowed (so to speak) from a jewelry smith in Ebou Dar and a small, smooth stone. His bandaged ribs screamed in protest, but he leaned forward and wedged the rock between the pads of his feet. Then he pressed the bit against a spot near one edge of the rock and began to spin it between his fingers.

Some time later -it might have been minutes or it might have been an hour- he held the rock up with thumb and forefinger, peering at the hole he had created. “Perfect,” he muttered, then scrubbed the rock on his pants to remove the last of the dust from drilling.

Dark eyes caught on the window a moment later and Jaryd’s fingers wrapped around the rock so tightly his knuckles creaked. No light shone through the gaps in the boards that covered the opening; even the faint after glow of sunset had faded. “Marisa should be back by now,” he commented, glancing at Merl. Mingled frustration and fear churned in his gut as the words fell. The Rahad was dangerous even during the day; at night it was best for even the strongest to travel in pairs...and Marisa was alone.

His friend shrugged. “Maybe she stopped by to visit the others. Or maybe-” Merl’s eyes caught the lamplight and exploded in a thousand variations of brown, earthy green, and gold. For a moment Jaryd lost track of the man’s words as he stared at the beauty caught inside his friend's irises. His reverie ended when Merl shifted; Jaryd scrambled to remember what had been said. Something about Marisa staying away because he had made a fool of himself.

“Would she be that petty?” He asked, his voice slightly dazed. Merl gave him an odd look, and Jaryd’s cheeks heated up. “If she isn’t back by Low-”

I will go find news if that’s the case. You’re in no fit state to go anywhere.” And with that the other man pushed a lock of pitch-black hair behind his ear and returned to his book.

Jaryd looked down at his hands, staring at the stone in his palm with single minded ferocity. Be safe, he thought. Safe, please be safe. He rubbed the rock with his thumb, then began to roll it over his fingers in a rhythmic pattern, his mind straying back to that evening on the beach and how happy they had all been. Come back to us. To me. Please Marisa, please be careful. She laughed and teased him, but he had no idea if she did it because his reactions amused her or because she liked him. The former seemed more likely, given the bloody nose he would have when she returned...but then, women in the Rahad could hardly be labeled ‘tender’. That didn’t matter though. Nothing mattered except that the wild-haired woman return.

The pain in his side had grown worse, though that realization swam through his mind as if it had come from a long way off. He shifted positions and it eased a little, but he could feel every overlapping layer of plaster on the wall behind him and the scratchy texture of the blanket beneath him. The air felt heavy; the hair on his arms lifted to meet each passing current. He couldn’t seem to catch his thoughts; they fluttered and flickered about, and the only thing that stood out was more of the same: Blood and ashes Marisa, just be safe.

His fist clenched around the stone; for a moment it felt oddly warm against his fingers, almost vibrating in his grip. His body felt numb and for a terrifying moment he was afraid to move because the slightest gesture might cause him to splinter and break.

An eternity later, or perhaps just a breath, Jaryd shivered.

As fast as the strange feeling had occurred, so, too, did it fade. It siphoned away like sand in an hourglass and took his apprehension, guilt, and annoyance with it. He couldn’t have said why, but he was suddenly quite certain that whatever else happened that night, his friend would return.

Humming softly, Jaryd fished beneath his bed once more, seeking until his long fingers brushed over a silver chain- the other ‘gift’ he had taken from the smith. It fit through the hole in the stone perfectly, though he had to remove the clasp to make it so. That was easy enough work. Afterward, he held the completed pendant in front of his face, admiring how it caught the light from Merl’s candle.

It was Marisa’s birthday in two days and he finally had a gift he knew she would appreciate.
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False alarm- there's still a song for me; I'm just about around to sing it
There's still a chance for me...and I'm still here singing.

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