Mel was cold. Oh so cold. Always cold. Always shivering.

She hated the rainy season. Rain meant wet. Wet meant cold. And cold meant... well... illness.
Mel sniffed despondently as the rain softly beat on her shoulders. Her head was thumping hard. Her forehead broke into a cold sweat, and her fever raged. She hadn't eaten since yesterday and she was weak. Such is the life of a vagrant, a homeless, a runaway. But, a fever wouldn't feed you. You had to beg, ask, plead, or you would die. Mel learnt that a long time ago.

Mel took a an old wooden cup from her pocket, and sat on the ground in front of a tavern. It was dry under the taverns porch, and people would pass by regularly, tsats, and humans alike. But not gollies, thankfully. Any gollie would notice and remember the disinherited Melia Bellamy. Mel couldn't bear the shame, the laughter, the scorn of her once fellow peoples, her true family. She missed them. So much. She felt the mona of her tiny field quiver in the cold. Eventually, maybe all the mona would disappear. But, Mel didn't know what would happen. It was Mels last link to her past life. To lose it entirely, was to lose her identity as a galdor.

Mel proffered the cup to passers by, in hope of coins, anything, to help Mel along. It never was profitable, but Mel had no other way. No one ever really considered the mute 'passive' sitting by the tavern door. She had no voice, she was never heard. Every now and then, someone would toss a fort into the cup, sometimes a hat, or maybe, on a very lucky day, a tally. Those sort of days, Mel would get a proper warm meal. Those were good days, few and far between.

Mel was starving. She felt the blood fall from her face, but she tried to remain conscious. She was used to the faint feeling that came with hunger. She took one fort out of the cup and put it into her pocket, and held the cup out in the rain. It took a good five minutes to get a substantial amount of water in the cup, but once there was was enough to drink, Mel gulped it down as soon as she could. She refilled and drank from her cup a couple more times, before resuming her begging.

I would have never thought I would be here now. What would my parents think?

The clattering of hooves spattered the air, a sound which mixed in delightfully with the harsh pitter-pattering of the rainstorm. A young figure on horseback was trotting down the lines of huts and tents erected on the far edges of the bridge, careful not to trample anything as they passed. As they neared the city, it became apparent that the rider was female. Her ethnicity could not be determined in the dark of the evening, that was, until she spoke, albeit very quietly so as not to draw unwanted attention to herself. Her horse's ears perked up at the soft whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear:

"Wooooo chet!" Ela gathered the reigns in her hands more tightly; the rain was making them a bit slippery. Her stallion, Doda, had it in his mind that rain was for playing in, not for riding with proper manners through, "Spitch horse ent doing much for me, are you? Dze. Now shh."

Together, they passed under the gate opening and slowed to a walk. Ela shifted the reigns to one hand and adjusted her circle scarf to better shield her face from the rain. "This won't do, Doda. Not a speck. Hold on a moment..." She reached around to one of the bags attached to the saddle and unfurled an oiled cloak, pulling it over her head and fastened the clasp across her chest. "Much better, I suppose, at least for now, hmm?"

She had passed a fair number of store and home-fronts, most closed up on account of the ghastly weather. There weren't too many people mulling about; in fact, Ela figured that the last person she had seen was one of the artisans on the bridge coming in. Keeping aware, she peered out from the double layer of scarf and cloak with well-adjusted eyes, occasionally pulling back a curling strand of hair from her cheek. Doda snorted, protesting the chilly weather; she would have feared for his health if he wasn't so used to traveling in all kinds of weather. This rainfall probably seemed like an unofficial bath to him, she hoped.

The faint sound of water sloshing and being gulped pulled Ela's gaze from the distant road ahead to her right, where a shadowy, curled up figure sat in the rain. Upon closer inspection, Ela thought she could make out a roughly hewn cup in the figure's hand, and she was pretty sure the face was feminine.

"Excuse me, don't be alarmed," Ela said softly, leaning forward in her saddle, "Are you alright? You look a bit cold. And wet, too, if I do say so."

A clattering of hooves was an unusual sound. Mel heard them slowly clatter slowly, and they got progressively louder. Mels face as hidden in her knees as she pulled them close to her chest, her old blanket tightly wrapped around her. The porch of the tavern was good shelter, but she knew she'd have to move sometime soon.

Mel saw a pair of hooves on the ground. A sweet, melodic voice addressed Mel.



She was obviously not from the city. Anyone from the city knew not to get involved with urchins like Mel. They'd strip you for all you were worth.

Mel glanced up from under her eyebrows. A young woman sat on her horse, leaning down and looked at Mel with a concerned face. Mel lifted her head and looked at the woman. She was a wick, Mel could tell by the colourful clothing. It wasn't really colourful by wick standards, but it was more colourful than humans. But that wasn't exactly hard to achieve. She had an oiled coat, and it looked beautifully warm to Mel. She was all rugged up, cringing from the rain, but she was obviously a traveller, so she looked used to it. So did her horse. In her vulnerable position, the horse looked very intimidating to Mel. Despite the woman's appearance as a wick, she didn't have a field.

Mel didn't know how to respond. Yes, I am cold. No, I'm not alright. In the end, Mel simply sighed and lowered her head back on her knees. Then, she sadly, slowly shook her head on her knees. No, I'm not alright. Mel clutched the cup to her legs.

How was this traveller supposed to help her? As far as Mel could tell, she had nothing in this world to rely on. She was of the nomads, of the earth. She would know the hardships of the city soon enough.

A moment of silence elapsed as Ela's expression faltered, her brows knotting as her mouth sunk into a frown. Doda danced backwards a couple of steps impatiently, and Ela shushed him, reigning him in. It had been a few months since she'd visited a major city, and she couldn't say she recognized this girl. She knew enough people in the area to get what she usually came through for, which generally consisted of trading or buying, or staying over for a secretive visit.

This girl didn't seem like most others that she saw wandering the streets. She had the typical despondent posture and mannerisms, but there was something fatalistic about the way she shook her head, the way she did not hold out her cup to Ela. Strange behavior, as if she were resigned to this fate of street-life. Most urchins she knew got used to this life, even had a bit of fun with it every once in awhile. If some of them were lucky, they left the city for something better. Either this girl was fresh, or she had heard enough about "street-life" before getting here that she was already defeated.

"I don't mean to bother you, because if you want to be left alone, I understand," Ela stated calmly, her expression still slightly irked, "But I have enough to share, and I'm likely heading somewhere to procure some more. Food, mainly, among other things. So if you're interested, you can hop on and come along, if only for awhile." She sat in the saddle, leaning back a bit, before adding, "I promise you can trust me. Perhaps it doesn't appear this way to you, but I know what it's like to be on the outside."

Ela didn't plan on staying in the city for too long. At most she would be here a week, and that was stretching it quite a bit. She could get by with sneaking around long enough to do her business, but in all honesty, it made her a bit nervous to be in an area where she knew she wasn't welcome. At least in other areas nearby, she wasn't considered to be the worst wandering scum on the streets. Here, the only way she would be accepted after that sentiment was if she applied for a writ, and she didn't have the patience for that, presently.

The moment of silence was both reassuring and hopeless for Mel. Maybe this stranger would go, let her be and stop her from begging on her hands and knees like she was so close to doing. But, Mel still had that hope that someone, anyone, would help her escape the hell that she was condemned to. No-one ever really cared about Mel. Maybe an ignorant traveller could be Mels ticket out of here.

She didn't look up from her knees and she half expected that the traveller would leave. But she didn't. Mel looked up from under eyebrows again, and the traveller was still looking at Mel. She was frowning at Mel, a tad confused.

Mel didn't mind. She half hoped that the traveller would help her. But, she knew that she wouldn't.



Mel lifted her head, rather too quickly, too desperately. The word of food was hard to find and was hardly ever uttered in Mels presence. It didn't matter if Mel could trust the traveller or not, she could defend herself if needed. Food was calling and Mel was hungry. He stomach grumbled as she moved.

Mel stood up, and dusted herself off. she placed her cup in one of her skirt pockets and folded up her blanket. Despite being homeless, Mel took pride in her appearance and cleanliness. Well, as best she could in the rainy season.

Mel looked at the woman on the horse properly for the first time. She was a young woman and definitely a traveller. She knew her way around the world, Mel could tell that. She held her head high and Mel could tell that she was proud. Just like Mel was once before.

Mel looked at the woman dead in the eye, and nodded shortly. Not to look desperate, but agreeing and grateful.