We only had one bed, so the three of us shared it. There wasn’t much space. I lay on the edge, Illara in the middle, Hazel on the far side. Hazel’s sleep was restless, waking in short, frightened starts. More than once Illara murmured to her and drew her close until the shaking eased. By morning none of us felt properly rested.

  First priority: clothing. Hazel couldn’t stay wrapped in a blanket forever, and she certainly couldn’t step into the streets like that. I left her with Illara and headed out alone.

  The morning was crisp with fresh frost. The muddy lanes had gone hard overnight, crunching under my boots. It didn’t take long to find a market stall with clothes hung up for display.

  “Morning,” I said to the shopkeeper. “I’m looking for a dress to fit someone slightly taller than me.”

  The man — older, white moustache, sharp eyes — looked me over in the way merchants do when they’re deciding how much you can afford.

  “What’s your budget?”

  I didn’t know the prices here well enough to be confident, so I gambled. “One silver?”

  His mouth pinched. “Not even close.” He tapped the nearest dress with two fingers. “Cheapest I’ve got is five silver. It won’t be pretty, but it’ll last.”

  That explained a lot about Holver. No wonder the villagers patched everything until it fell apart.

  I nodded once. “What about seven?”

  He brightened a fraction. “Plain, but comfortable. Easy to clean. Nothing fancy.”

  Seven silver was most of yesterday’s reward. But Hazel needed something. I wasn’t about to march her through Ravencrest half-dressed.

  I hesitated, then added, “Can you throw in a boot? Just a left one. A bit bigger than mine.”

  He blinked, then laughed.

  “I’ll see what I’ve got.” He rummaged through a crate and eventually pulled out a shabby boot without a mate. “Try it.”

  I slipped off my left boot and tested the fit. It was a little loose — close enough.

  “That’ll do.”

  “No returns,” he warned. “If it doesn’t fit your friend, that’s your problem.”

  “Don’t worry.” A crooked smile slipped out before I could stop it. “I’m decent at guessing sizes.”

  Some of Drisnil’s old work had involved pretending to be tradespeople. If you want to impersonate someone well, you learn the craft.

  I handed over the coins. He passed me a plain brown dress and the single boot.

  “Pleasure doing business with you, ma’am.”

  “Likewise.”

  On the way back I stopped at the grilled-chicken stall and bought sixteen skewers. If we were about to walk Hazel across the city, we needed more than empty stomachs.

  When I opened the door to our room, the smell of the food announced me first. Hazel was sitting upright against the headboard, wrapped in the blanket. Illara had been praying, but both of them turned toward me immediately, hungry and hopeful.

  I passed the skewers around and ate mine leaning against the wall, letting the warmth settle in.

  When we finished, I handed Hazel the folded dress and boot.

  “I got you some clothing. Basic, but it should do.”

  Hazel stared at the bundle like it was a relic.

  “This must have cost you a fortune,” she said softly. “I don’t know how I could pay you back.”

  “You don’t need to,” I said. “If you ever get the chance, pass the kindness along.”

  Illara looked at me in quiet surprise. She didn’t say anything, but I saw it land.

  Hazel tried to dress herself. The cloth kept slipping from her grasp. She fumbled at the ties with her left hand, teeth clenched in concentration, then let out a small, angry breath when the sleeve twisted wrong. Illara moved to help, but Hazel shook her head once — stubborn pride, still intact — and tried again.

  It took her longer than it should have. When she finally managed it, the dress hung a little crooked on her frame, but it covered her.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  She fitted the boot to her left foot and tried to stand.

  Her balance failed immediately. She staggered and went down hard onto the mattress, breath sharp with pain and humiliation.

  “We’ll need to get you something to help you walk,” I said, more bluntly than I meant.

  Illara’s face tightened. “Prosthetics are rare. Most people rely on full healing.”

  “How much would it cost?” I asked.

  “For a leg and an arm… about a hundred gold.”

  The number hit like a slap. That kind of coin might as well have been myth.

  Hazel let out a slow breath, the last of her hope draining out in a quiet, familiar way.

  Illara knelt beside her. “Hazel… would you want to stay with a temple for a while? They’ll take you in. You could work there — and if you’re with them long enough, maybe they’d help you more than they would a stranger.”

  Hazel was silent for a long moment.

  “I can’t go back to farmwork like this,” she said at last. “But I want my family to know I’m alive.”

  “The temple can send a letter,” Illara said. “And help you start again.”

  Hazel sat straighter, as if the decision itself gave her a hinge to hold on to.

  “Alright,” she whispered. “I’ll go with you. Thank you.”

  By midmorning, frost had melted into brown slush, the walk to the temple was slow. Hazel was determined, but every street felt like a mountain to her. Illara and I kept close on either side, letting her lean on us when the cobbles dipped or the crowd pressed too tight.

  At last we reached a temple of Solvarn. A large sun emblem was set above the doors, and the whole building stood pristine and white, its stone washed to brightness. It felt strangely out of place in Ravencrest’s wet grime — like a piece of clearer sky lowered to earth.

  Inside, the air was warm and faintly scented with incense and clean linen. A priest in white robes trimmed with gold stepped forward to greet us, his voice gentle with practiced calm.

  “Welcome to the Temple of Solvarn. How may we be of assistance?”

  Hazel swallowed, squared her shoulders, and answered before fear could take her voice.

  “I’m seeking refuge,” she said. “And work, if you’ll have me.”

  The priest’s gaze softened as he took in her injuries.

  “Of course. You’ve suffered grievously. We can shelter you here.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “We often need help with meals and preparation. Is cooking something you know?”

  Hazel nodded, a little of her old farmstead steadiness returning.

  “I can cook basic food. I grew up on a farm.”

  “Then you’ll be useful, and safe besides.” He looked to Illara and gave a small bow. “Sister, I can take her from here. Thank you for your service and for honoring your faith. May Solvarn keep you in his light.”

  His blessing was aimed at Illara, not me, but I didn’t mind. Hazel having a roof and a purpose mattered more than any words.

  Hazel turned and hugged Illara hard, tears rising fast now that she didn’t have to pretend she was unbreakable.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.”

  Then she faced me. Her eyes were still red, but clear.

  “And thank you, Drisnil. You didn’t have to save me. I’ll never forget that.”

  She hesitated, then leaned up awkwardly and kissed my cheek — quick, uncertain, but sincere.

  Something warm stirred in my chest, a feeling I hadn’t realised I could still recognise.

  The priest stepped in beside her, steadying her gently.

  “Come,” he said. “Let’s get you settled.”

  Illara watched them go, her expression soft with relief.

  “I wish you all the best, Hazel,” she called after her. “I’ll visit when I can.”

  Hazel looked back over her shoulder and managed a small smile.

  “I’ll be here. I’ll look forward to it.”

  With Hazel in safe hands at last, we stepped back out into the grey streets of Ravencrest — the temple doors closing behind us like the end of one road and the start of another.

  With our last mission finished, it was time to take another. We needed coin, and I needed Percy’s trust. Work was the fastest way to buy both.

  We returned to the guardhouse and knocked. Percy answered again, and I caught the flicker of recognition in his eyes. My face was distinctive enough to linger in a man’s memory.

  “How can I help you, ladies?” he asked.

  “We’re looking for more work,” I said.

  He studied us a moment, then motioned us inside.

  We sat at the mess table while he went to the shelving and pulled down a fresh scroll. He spread it open in front of us, smoothing the edges with a tired hand.

  “We’ve had reports of kobolds hitting trade caravans outside the city,” he said.

  He tapped a rough stretch of road on the map — nothing but a smudge of ink and a few scratches to mark it.

  “They could be coming from anywhere, but not far. If you’ve got a good tracker”—his eyes slid briefly to Illara—“you should be able to find their den.”

  Lucky for us, Illara was exactly that.

  “I’ll pay ten gold if you wipe the camp out,” Percy went on. “For proof, I want the left ear of their leader. He’ll be bigger than the rest, and his scales will be a different shade.”

  He paused, as if reciting something he’d said a dozen times already.

  “I also expect at least ten left ears total. No bonus for extra.”

  Then, lower and flatter:

  “We’ll send someone after you to confirm the camp is cleared. If it isn’t, the penalty is fifteen gold… and/or a year imprisoned.”

  The numbers told me what his voice didn’t. This wasn’t a nuisance job. This was the kind of nest that had started to grow teeth.

  Illara didn’t hesitate.

  “We’ll take it,” she said, bright as dawn.

  I let out a quiet breath through my nose. Ten gold meant danger. Real danger. But there was no backing out now — not without costing us the trust we’d come to earn.

  “Good,” Percy said, already rolling the map back up. “I’ll look forward to your return. Best of luck with the hunt.”

  We left the guardhouse with the new mission sitting heavy between us.

  Now we just needed supplies.