Vastra is oddly different from Figeholm. It’s hard for me to express. The big ones here all look similar. Dress similar. Smell similar. Walk similar. However, there’s also a tension between everyone that wasn’t present before. It leaves me on edge since some of the big ones will occasionally glance my way as if distrusting me. In Figeholm, everyone was far too busy to take notice of my tiny presence within the crowd. Regardless of the risk, the ones here do only glance for a brief moment before moving on to someone else. It’s not me who’s the problem. It’s somehow everyone, everywhere, all the time.

  Despite worrying, nothing happens. I’m left to wander the local trails unbothered. Aside from the odd feelings, the trails are familiar. Almost as though I’ve walked them before? In fact, they’re exactly the same as in Figeholm. Except this isn’t Figeholm. I’m even able to take the entrance trail straight to the center where there’s another stone circle. Here too, a line forms. The big ones reaching the front walk through the sporadically forming spacial rifts. It’s so fascinating that I stay and watch for far too long.

  Shaking the obsession from my head, I ponder what to do next. Find another treasure room? Sneak away another song? Maybe become a brave little spy, listening in on their secretest plans? Or more books! I’m missing so many necessary topics. Those lovely little treasure rooms of information. Simply hold it up to your face and wait while you absorb all the big one’s concealed mysteries.

  Come to think of it, that’s an idea. I stole that young one’s light, but I only have the one. What if I stole another? Would my light grow brighter? Can I collect their lights exactly as I collect their books?

  Must hold onto that thought. The first priority is finding any opportunity at all. I’m not yet familiar enough with their habits and homes to pick and choose. Scouting is necessary again, just like at the gates. In fact, this village center is quite busy. Therefore, it’s the perfect place to watch! Of course, it’s not that I secretly wish to stay and watch the spacial tears longer. No, that would be irresponsible.

  I casually stroll over to a nearby wall and lean up against it, trying to look aimless and bored. There’s many others there already doing the same or sitting on the ground. However, I’ll stay standing in case I have to run. Regardless of the position, I should still fit right in.

  So many come and go through the rifts. It’s busy, but not as busy as Figeholm. Every now and then, one of the big ones in line starts arguing with the front man. Sometimes it even turns into a short, impassioned fight. Regardless of its start, it always ends in the arguer leaving the line and storming off. More often than not, the grumpy one will then walk over to the aimless, despondent group around me and join.

  Come to think of it, why are these men so directionless? Especially while so many others are so animated. It’s certainly convenient for me to hide amongst them while I spy on the others, but maybe my best quarry is amongst these people?

  I pretend to lean over and fix the bottom of my cloak while using it as an excuse to more closely inspect one of the big ones sitting on the ground near me.

  His chest skin is in terrible condition. There’s no pouches at his waist. No metals, no wood. Does he have anything at all to steal other than his light? Maybe a song or two will leak out?

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  “Eh, what’s this now? A war orphan?” a gruff voice loudly shouts, suddenly laying out a shocking dominion over this side of the central square.

  In terror, my spine shoots my body up straight up into a ramrod posture, ready to run. Luckily, during my mixing practice, I sloppily extended my cloak so as to better hide my feet. Extra weight and rough extensions to the hood also help it to better flop down to hide my face and eyes when I wish it. To my relief, the preparatory work competently covers me from the careful, close inspection. Keep calm. I’m safe, I’m safe.

  “Yew, gads. You stink child!” the voice loudly exclaims at me.

  Nervously peering out the sides of the floppy hood, I see that the previously idle crowd now all stands at attention. They’ve even moved to pack closer around us during the short exchange.

  “Alright, gentlemen, if I can still call you that,” the loud voice booms out into the crowd, filling every corner of the large space. “As you know, the lord said younguns first. No negotiations.”

  At that, the crowd audibly groans, although they don’t appear angry. Their hopelessness simply seeps back in as they return to the idle sitting and leaning.

  “Right, right. I’ll be back for the next lot of you tomorrow,” the loud voice directs to the sad crowd. “And for you child, follow me.”

  Not entirely sure what to do, instinct tells me to lean back against the wall again to blend back in with the re-dispersed crowd. However, this lasts only a few seconds before I’m again disturbed.

  “Child! Are you daft? Won’t tell you again. Follow, now!”

  Jarred upright by the aggressive voice clearly directed straight at me, I’m compelled to take steps to follow the sound before more scolding ensues.

  “You one of ‘em typhus ones or somethin’?” the loud voice inquires more softly once we’ve walked a ways away from the square. “Hardly a wonder you’re so shy, stinky, and disgusting then. I’d be ashamed too.”

  Do I really smell? I haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary.

  “No worry, no worry. His nobleness, the lord, demands you get given honest work. You’ll eat today, but it’ll be real hard work. ‘Specialy since we can’t put you amongst no normal people. Ones with noses, at least.”

  I don’t smell, you stupid, sterile buffoon!

  “That leaves sewer work. Everybody else hates it, but you’ll fit right in, won’t you?” the loud voice states, disharmonically laughing along with metallic shifting and grinding somewhere outside my covered vision.

  I risk briefly turning my head so as to glance at what he’s doing. There’s a sizable metal circle lying next to an interesting, dark hole in the middle of the street. Did I miss this earlier?

  “Already got the tools inside. Scrub best you can. Be sealing you in for safety’s sake. I’ll open it back up at quittin’ time.”

  The darkness calling me, I immediately leap down in a single step, landing with a loud squelch below.

  “Ha! In ya go, good on you.”

  The grating, sliding metal sounds erupt again, and almost all the last bits of light completely disappear above me. He’s gone. The trail noise is gone. The big ones, they’re all gone.

  It’s heavenly. Why in the world would this big idiot randomly gift me with this gorgeous, free real estate?