The gutters always stank worse after rain.

  Mika crouched beneath the broken awning of a shuttered bakery, tail curled tight around her legs, trying not to gag as the runoff dragged half-rotted waste past her boots.

  She hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Maybe longer.

  It was pretty hard to keep track when your stomach always felt the same.

  Empty.

  The city of Ravenna was the jewel of the western coast. The greatest merchant hub in the world, they said. A place where anyone could rise—where a single gold coin, a dream, and enough wit could buy you a seat at the high tables.

  Mika had two copper.

  A torn scarf.

  And a bruise on her side from where a city guard had “accidentally” elbowed her while clearing the market square.

  She scratched behind one of her large, furred ears and huffed.

  “Guess I’ll try the docks again,” she muttered. “Maybe the fish carts are late. Maybe the gods are feeling generous. Maybe pigs will fly.”

  She snorted. “Yeah. Thought so.”

  The slums of Ravenna were stacked like forgotten stories—wood and stone and desperation piled together into narrow lanes and shadowed stairs. Laundry hung like flags above alleyways. Rats and children ran in equal numbers.

  Mika moved fast.

  She had to.

  She was small for her age. Fast, clever, and quiet. Fox ears twitching at every sound, amber eyes scanning for scraps or danger.

  Or both.

  Once, she’d had a family.

  Not much of one, but enough.

  Now it was just her.

  And the streets.

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  She stole a heel of bread from a distracted vendor. Slipped it into her sleeve without blinking.

  But she didn’t get ten steps before a voice barked behind her.

  “Hey! Fox-rat!”

  Mika’s stomach dropped.

  She bolted.

  The guards were quick—but she was quicker.

  Her bare feet slapped against the cobbles, tail streaming behind her as she ducked beneath carts and darted down side alleys like smoke on the wind.

  “Stop, thief!”

  “You stop!” she shouted over her shoulder. “And maybe try a bath while you're at it!”

  One of them slipped on something wet and cursed loud enough to make her grin. She vaulted a crate, took a hard right, then dropped into the narrow crawlspace between two old buildings—barely wide enough for a child.

  “Little beastling—get back here!”

  “Catch me and I might think about it!”

  But she was already gone.

  She knew this part of the city better than anyone. Ravenna’s underpaths were a map of memory burned into her bones. She popped up three streets away, behind the tanner’s row, breathless but laughing.

  The heel of bread was still in her sleeve.

  She gave half to a boy she knew—Rell, who’d recently lost a leg in a warehouse collapse. He grinned like she’d given him treasure.

  That made it worth it.

  Even if she’d go hungry again.

  “Eat it slow,” she told him. “Pretend it’s roast duck with fancy sauce.”

  “You’re weird,” Rell said, but he was already nibbling.

  “I’m creatively hungry. There’s a difference.”

  Later, in the alley behind the tanner’s row, she sat on an overturned crate, gnawing the crust and watching the smoke rise from the merchant quarter’s chimneys.

  “Bet they eat meat every night,” she muttered. “Roast duck and candied figs. Velvet napkins. Silver forks.”

  Her stomach growled.

  If only she had a little more.

  She didn’t hate them.

  Not really.

  But sometimes, when it was cold and wet and she couldn’t remember the sound of her mother’s voice, she wished the rich would trip just once. Just to see what the ground felt like.

  A woman passed by later, too finely dressed to be from the slums. She glanced down, nose wrinkling, and stepped over Mika without a word.

  Mika gave her a two-fingered mock salute.

  “Thanks for your grace, lady.”

  No response.

  Didn’t matter.

  Mika never forgot a face.

  And someday, if the coin ever flipped her way, she'd love to return the favour.

  When night came, the city changed. Lamps flickered to life along the main roads. Music drifted from taverns. Drunks laughed. Guards sharpened their patience.

  And in the shadows, the forgotten huddled down and prayed it wouldn’t rain again.

  Mika found her spot under a broken stair near the spice road. Dry enough. Close to a bakery vent.

  She tucked her tail beneath her coat and pulled the scarf tighter around her neck.

  Her stomach felt tight and empty.

  Someone nearby coughed for the third time.

  A baby cried.

  A dog barked.

  Life went on.

  And Mika, as always, endured.

  She didn’t dream much anymore.

  But she still remembered how.

  And somewhere in the dark sky above Ravenna, a single star flickered brighter than the rest.

  It saw her.

  And marked her.

  Though no priest had ever checked.

  Though no ceremony was held.

  Though no one knew.

  She was a Champion.

  For cunning.

  For survival.

  For change.

  And her story, like a spark in dry grass, was about to catch.