12. A Good, Old-Fashioned, Five-Way Meet Cute

 

A Good, Old-Fashioned, Five-Way Meet Cute

Tiffani

Loren slinks to the axe-throwing booth. This time, Tiffani clocks the other boy’s approach and does not startle. His fun has long passed and he is bored again. His fingers drum on the booth, and his gaze slides glassily over the crowd as it ebbs and flows with the organic movement of people and their ever changing interests. 

“Finally,” is Tiffani’s only greeting as he trades places with Loren. He leans against the outside of the booth and continues with a droll tone. “You know the drill, I don’t have to explain anything. But I will be back for closing ‘cause I promised Cap I would clean up.” Tiffani holds up a finger and wags it in Loren’s face. “That is not an excuse to make a mess. If there is a mess here, I will make you stay to clean it up yourself.”

Loren’s gaze drops to the tabletop and his restless eyes jitter over the space. He reaches forward and sticks his finger in some sap.

“What’s this?”

“I don’t know,” Tiffani says flippantly. “Probably somebody–don’t lick it!” Tiffani slaps the other boy's hand away from his mouth. “Why are you putting it in your mouth?”

“To figure out what it is,” he says with a shrug, stretching and squeezing the mixture of sap and spit between his fingers.

“And putting it in your mouth is gonna help? Customers are in and out of here all day, Loren. People leave stuff. That could have been poison!”

Loren
Image from Pinterest

“But it could have been a snack.”

Tiffani is flabbergasted. And disgusted. And annoyed. He had planned on leaving some of the booby traps for Loren to deal with alone and recollecting the sap for later use, but now he isn’t sure he can trust the weirdo. He goes back behind the counter and collects two of the sap logs he had left under axe heads. He reaches for the third and finds it wet. Yelping, he snatches his hand back and wipes the offended finger on the back of his pant leg. He looks at Loren to see the boy pulling his finger out of his mouth to poke at the sap log still affixed to the table.

Tiffani can feel his face curling in a grimace.

“It is a snack.” Loren says defiantly, chipping away at a wedge of the sap and popping a loosened bit of it into his mouth.

For a moment, a few minutes ago, Tiffani had almost felt bad for setting up Loren to take the fall for most of his pranks…. But now he remembers why he did it. 

Tiffani pockets his two retrieved logs, abandoning the third to its watery doom. 

The young Wood Elf leaves the axe throwing booth without another word to his co-worker and wanders around the festival grounds, a little miffed at his exchange with the village walnut. He tries to find something else to busy himself with. If his body is occupied, he hopes that his mind will not have time to dwell on the fact that this is the first Firefly Festival he is celebrating entirely alone.

And when his mind will not shut up about it, when his mind tries to tell him he is lonely, he reminds himself that he has an open invitation to dine at Cap’s every day of the week, and that Cap’s home is as good as his home.

He doesn’t even miss his own family usually. Eating meals without them is an old habit now. The only thing different today is the fact that it’s a holiday. 

Really, it is no big deal…

Gods! He just wishes his mind would let it go. 

Everyone else seems to have.

He continues to wander the grounds, keeping his eyes open for something that could distract–no, entertain him.

Many booths and games fill the circle of the festival floor, but having lived in Embryveil his whole life, he has played some version of each of them many times. And though the different food vendors all smell delicious, he is not especially hungry at the moment. Besides, Celica will, for certain, try to stuff him with endless piles of food when he visits tonight, so it is better to keep space.

He is contemplating checking out some of the garment booths when a quick movement in the corner of his eye catches his attention.

There is a little girl with pale-blue skin and light-blue hair moving erratically through the crowd, a too-large satchel banging against her side. She looks young, maybe around age ten or something. She catches his attention because no one else around looks like her. She seems to be alone. Tiffani watches as she darts in and out of booths and his brow crumples slightly. Is she alone?

Is she lost?

He decides to watch her for a moment, curious and worried. Embryveil is a safe place, but many strangers visit during this time of year. It is not good for a child to wander alone. 

The girl darts into an aisle and disappears from his sight. Tiffani’s curious feet are already moving him in the direction of where he last spotted her, keeping an eye out for the child and anybody who might be looking for her. 

He does not see any adults with hair or skin like hers, but after a few minutes, he catches a flash of blue off to his right and turns to see the wily thing nearly at the edge of the clearing. Tiffani turns on a dime and begins jogging in that direction.

As he draws closer to the child he slows his jog to a walk. He exits the clearing only twenty or so feet behind her.

“Hey, kid,” he calls. She doesn’t seem to hear him.

He is ready to call out again but then notices that she is heading to a tall boy leaning against a tree just ahead of her. He is brown skinned with purple dreads and is dressed far too warmly for the summer. Tiffani hesitates, confused. Is this the adult that she belongs to? Perhaps it was a little presumptuous to assume that her family would also be blue, but he thinks that is probably a natural response. 

He is about to turn away when he sees the little girl stop for the bareest of moments beside the boy before darting off even faster than she had moved in the clearing.

She is carrying something in her arms when she definitely hadn’t been before. 

Tiffani’s eyes widen and then he is sprinting after the child. 

As he draws near to the boy at the tree, it is clear he has not noticed so Tiffinai points a finger at the girl and yells, “You just got robbed, bud!” as he blows past the tourist. 

He glances back to see the purple-haired boy look at him with confusion and then look down at his empty waist where a pouch of some sort had surely been moments ago. Before the boy even looks up, he is rushing after Tiffani. 

Good.

Tiffani faces forward and immediately barrels over a small, gnomish man who cuts suddenly across his path. Packages tumble out of the man’s hands and roll several times in the dirt.

“Kids these days!” The man immediately lays into him, not even bothering to pick up his fallen things. “Always in a rush and never looking where they are going! Not a shred of respect!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I was trying to–”

“Always thinking that because you're young you own the place. Well let me tell you. You don’t own nothin’!”

Tifffani doesn’t try to speak again. He just gathers the items from the ground and shoves them back into the hands of the man as he continues to scold. Once the task is done, Tiffani takes off with a last apology to him. 

His eyes whip back and forth; he's lost sight of the girl. But only a second passes before the tourist dashes past him, clearly still having eyes on their quarry. Tiffani follows after him.

Soon Tiffani spots the girl again, though it's not an easy task following after her. She is wily, darting through lanes and alleys, slingshotting around smaller trees in an effort to lose them. Tiffani finds that he is keeping up only because this is as much his home turf as it seems to be hers, but the purple-haired tourist is clearly not made for here. The heavy pounding of his feet alert folks to his approach, and those that do not scurry out of the way when they see him are checked by his hulking shoulders and moved out of his path. It’s impressive the way he keeps up, like he’s a hunter or something. 

Despite this, the girl has a heavy lead and the stranger is slower. He begins losing ground. 

Tiffani shoots past the other boy as they exit the west side of the Grove of Elders and enter the edges of River Grove, in the woods between, foot-traffic thins exponentially. Most folks are in the main areas of the city where celebrations are being held, not here in the liminal spaces. Regardless, the girl weaves back and forth between the more and less populated areas as she tries to lose them. 

It’s obvious she knows what she is doing and this is not her first job.

She must be aiming toward Sunken Grove or Moss Mound Grove, the neighborhoods to the south of River Grove.

He thinks it might be easier if they just follow her as far as possible and then report it to Cap–

Something sails past his ear and he ducks with a yell. A staff flies at the girl, but before it gets near her, she makes a wide turn in the opposite direction around a tree.

“Bud! You can’t throw stuff at a kid!” Tiffani yells over his shoulder. The tourist doesn’t even look at him, his eyes follow the trajectory of the launched pole for a moment before  locking back on the girl.

This guy is walnuts!

Tiffani turns to see the girl hurtle herself over a puddle of water–wobbling a bit, but she gets her feet under her and continues her mad dash.

Tiffani hops it with no problems and speeds after her. 

He hears the telltale sound of a body hitting the wet ground behind him, and though he doesn’t turn around to see he does laugh. 

Probably just what a tourist deserves after throwing a weapon at a child.

Zixxes

Zixxes curses and he pushes himself out of the mud only to slip again in his rush to get up, falling to his hands and knees, thoroughly coating himself in muck. He cannot see the girl anymore, and the Wood Elf boy is getting a lot of distance now. Zixxes stands more carefully and shucks off his mud-covered jacket, looking around quickly. He can see where his staff landed from where he stands, but he has no time to retrieve it. Thinking quickly he takes a few running steps to a tree with a lower-hanging branch and slings the soiled jacket up on it. It wraps two or three times around the branch and acts as a marker for Zixxes when he returns.

He takes off running after the Wood Elf boy only barely in his sights now. As Zixxes bursts through the foliage into the city proper, he sees the Wood Elf has been waylaid again, though upon a quick glance, it does not seem as though he had knocked anything over this time, but he is surrounded by a small group of people trying to talk with him. The other boy seems to be ignoring the people talking to him while his eyes rove the populated area as Zixxes arrives at his side.

They stand at the top of a wide road that declines slightly. On the right side, there are a few shops before a cliff and open air. He can hear a river rushing below, though he cannot see it from where he stands. To his left are many more trees housing different businesses. There are people moving through the streets and a crowd is gathered outside of one of the shops, but he doesn’t care about any of that. 

If he loses the girl, that would be everything. He cannot lose his pouch–

There is movement on his right side. He can tell that it also catches the eye of the boy beside him. 

In front of a tree, some sort of store, sits two barrels. One of them moves slightly. Rather, it isn’t the barrel that moves, but a tiny tuft of blue hair snagged under its lid that waves as if blown by a summer breeze, though the air around them is still. It is impossible to miss, for two boys focused on the color. 

The Elven boy moves first, running in a quiet half-crouch. Zixxes is only steps behind him when the boy pops off the lid with one hand and grabs the child by the hair with his other. 

The girl immediately begins screaming for help, kicking and fighting against the stranger. Her feet kick out and with surprising strength she knocks both of the barrels over. They begin to roll down the slight incline toward the river, but Zixxes pays them no mind.

He looks her over; her hands are free and there is a large satchel around her body. It is not his pouch but he can easily imagine that she stuffed it in there. 

Before he can reach for the satchel, the screaming girl is being tossed at him as the Wood Elf tears off after the barrels speeding down the road.

Zixxes wraps a strong arm around the child and watches for a moment as his would-be companion rushes after the barrels. The Elf easily catches one and stands it back up before it gets any distance, but the other one is heavier and has gotten away from him. Zixxes turns his attention away from the sight and back on the child squirming in his arms.

He rips the satchel from her body.

Maximilian 

Maximilian is spinning the tale of the third mayor of Emberveil–wild mage that had remained a duck for her entire 25 year career–when wild movement behind the crowd catches his eye. An Elven teen is running toward the crowd, chasing after a speeding barrel. Its trajectory is not in the path of the crowd but just to the left. It is on target to hit a ladder that is propped up against the Book Nook by the Brook. A ladder that Clari is currently using to hang a festival banner in the eaves of her shop.

Maximilian ends the performance without a second thought, the misty illusion of a duck in mayoral clothing vanishing in an instant as he slings his instrument onto his back and smoothly palms a dagger.

“Clari, get down!” the man shouts as he reels back to toss the weapon. The crowd gathered below him ducks as one with shouts of surprise and fear, and Maximilian releases the dagger. It sails end over tip toward the carening barrel. 

The hilt of the dagger bounces off of the barrel a second before an arrow punches through the wood, sinking in past the arrow’s head. The shaft of the arrow breaks off in the next rotation against the ground and the thing continues racing forward. 

Maximilian looks to see where it had come from and sees Nessuna–the woman he had met earlier–standing in front of the ladder, dropping her bow arm. There isn’t enough time to try another shot so the woman widens her stance and hunkers down, looking like she will attempt to take the brunt of the quickly approaching danger. 

Maximillian jumps off the stage, his knees almost buckling under his weight as his feet slap against the earth. He manages to keep mostly upright as he stumbles to Nessuna’s side and continues to call to Clari.

“Climb down, Clari!” He shouts up at her. She is frozen at the top of the ladder, gaze not on him but focused on the danger rolling her way. “Quickly!” he commands sharply. 

His focus is on her, so he doesn’t see the barrel's final approach. It slams into him and sends him flying forward.

Nessuna catches the barrel against her body, crashing to the ground but keeping it from doing any more damage.

Maximilian hits the ladder with a winded “oof.”

He can barely catch his breath as he watches in horror.

The ladder bounces jarringly against the side of the shop and then rebounds backward, tipping in a wide, gracing arc across the road and slamming against the guard rail on the opposite side of the street.

Clari somehow manages to cling to the ladder’s rungs, but she is dangling in open air and it is a good twenty-foot drop to the rushing Sunmead River below. 

The ladder begins to tilt under her weight toward the river, and Maximillan rushes to his feet and wraps his sweaty hands around the foot of the ladder before it is more than a foot off of the ground. But even with his considerable weight, it begins to further lift from the ground. He puffs out gasping breaths and his face reddens from effort.

His eyes lock with Clari where she clutches the other end of the ladder. They are blown wide with fear. She whispers his name, but he can’t hear the sound. 

He may never hear her voice again if this goes wrong. 

“Help! Please!” he screams out to anyone who is listening, his eyes locked on Clari’s. Someone piles on next to him and he only glances over long enough to recognize Nessuna. Together they ground their end of the ladder, keeping it from slipping into the water.

“Okay,” Nessuna says, her quiet voice rising to be heard over the gasp of the crowd still around them and the sound of blood rushing in his ears. “Now. Very very slowly, climb back down toward us.”                        

“I don’t know if I can,” Clari says slowly, her voice pitched high and shaking. 

“Of course you can,” Maximilian says, plastering on his showman smile so that she would not see the terror in him. “Clari, you are a master of books, stairs and ladders. This is nothing for you.”

She laughs, as he intended, but her hands are still wrapped tightly around the rungs of the ladder and her eyes are squeezed shut.

“Come on, Clari. You’ve got this,” he urges.

He suddenly feels a warmth, something like the light of dawn and the twinkling of night, enveloping him and he knows, without looking, Noori is here. He feels the familiar rush of her bless rush over him. He can see the way Clari breathes a little easier and knows she feels the same warmth.  

“Just climb down, Clari. We’ve got you steady.”

Slowly, between the coaxing voices of Maximillian, Nessuna, and Noori, they are able to get Clari back to the ground. A cheer goes up from onlookers. 

Maximilian is unconcerned with them.

“Are you okay?” he asks Clari as his hands hover around her person, too anxious to touch her for fear she is somehow hurt.

“Ye-Yes. Yes. I’m okay.” But her voice is still shaking and so are her hands. “Where did that thing even come from?”

“Who threw the barrel?” Maximilian demands, face and voice thunderous as he turns and looks back up the way the barrel had come. The Elven boy that had first caught Maxilinian’s attention turns out to be Tiffani. He stands halfway up the incline, eyes wide and hands already in front of him in a position that clearly says, “It’s not my fault and here’s why.” But Max’s gaze doesn’t stay there long as it drifts past Tiffani, to another boy holding a blue child by the scruff of her neck. As soon as Maximillian’s eyes land on her, the child begins to kick and scream in the boy’s hold. 

The boy on the hill folds the little girl under his arm and begins to march down with the wild child squirming and screaming just as Tiffani rushes a few steps forward rambling his defense.

“Look, Miss Noori, listen,” he says, looking right past Maximilian. “This kid robbed that guy! Right? And then she ran in circles halfway through the city, and we were chasing after her to catch her. And then when we got here she was hiding in one of the barrels in front of Sharon’s shop, and when we caught her she kicked over the barrels! And that’s all that happened.”

Maximilian watches over Tiffani’s shoulder as the stranger comes closer with the screaming child. 

“How do you discipline children here?” the stranger demands. The boy is about Maximilian’s height and covered in mud. It drips from his pant legs and paints his face and hair. There is a slight crack in his voice that gives him away his youth, and a lilting accent identifies him as from somewhere in the Grimshale Hilands. “Who do I take this child to?”

“Where are her parents?” Clari asks from where she has tucked herself into Maximillian’s side.

“I don’t know!” Tiffani answers. “I just saw her running through the crowds. It didn’t look like she had parents, so I wanted to make sure she was okay or see if she needed help, and then I saw her rob this guy.” Tiffinai thumbs over his shoulder and looks at the stranger. He seems to do a small double-take, as though this was the first time he was actually seeing the stranger, before turning back around to face the group in front of him, a frown creasing his face. “That’s what happened,” he finishes off, exasperated.

There is a pause as everyone takes this in; and into that silence the stranger says, “Yes, I was robbed by this child. What do you do with thieves here?”

Maximilian looks the girl over, and though he is not sure who she is or who her family is, he knows that this little girl is an Air Genasi. He has not seen any Air Genasi families in Embryveil. Many times in his travels, yes, but not here, in the forests. He looks around and sees no recognition on Clari’s or Noori’s face. 

“I think we gotta take her to Cap,” the Elven boy says in answer to the stranger's question. 

“What is Cap?” The stranger inquires. 

The girl stops struggling suddenly and she goes ashy-blue with fear. Fat tears spring to her eyes and she begins to sob.

Anila
Image from Priterest

“Please please please, don’t take me to Cap,” she begs in a whisper.

“Well, then don’t rob people!” Tiffani snaps.

“I’ll give it back. I'll give all of it back. Just, please!”

“I already have it back,” the stranger says, shifting a satchel that hangs from his shoulder.  “If someone would take the child, I can retrieve my belongings from her thief’s bag.” 

The boy holds the crying child out from his body, gesturing for any of the group to relieve him of his burden. The child looks… well, pathetic is the right word, though it is not the kindest.

 The girl looks really rough. She is filthy, her dress is ripped and torn, tears have left streak marks on her dirt covered face, and her hair is short with many thick knots twisted in it. He remembers, then, that he has seen Genasi in this city, but not adults. Only children living in the slums of the Sunken Grove. He feels something tug in chest and takes a step forward. He does not take the girl from the stranger. 

“What’s your name?” he asks. He uses prestidigitation to clean her off a little bit. It hardly makes a dent in the grime covering her.

“Anila,” she answers, barely audible through her cries. 

“Anila? Okay, Anila. As you can see what happened was very dangerous and some people got hurt because of it.” The girl cries a little harder at this. “Hey, no, no. I am not mad. But it is important to know that your actions have consequences. Do you see that?” Above her head he could see the stranger nodding sharply in agreement, and the girl's cries quiet slightly. 

“Are you gonna take me to Cap?” she sniffles. 

“That might happen, but it really depends on if you cooperate or not.”

The girl looks a little confused by his words, but he can see the moment she decides that she is going to trust him. “Okay,” she whispers again.

“I think you can put her down now.” Maximilian says, looking up at the stranger. The boy’s brows furrow in a quizzical look, he eyes the older man up and down before asking bluntly, “How fast are you?” 

At the same time Tiffani jumps in and says “Do you know how hard it was to catch her in the first place?”

“I agree,” the stranger says with a small grunt as he hefts his hiccuping burden higher in his arm.

“I’ll take her,” Nessuna says. She had been standing just behind Clari for the conversation, but now she moves forward gracefully and bends at the waist to look the child in the eye. 

“Do you mind coming with me?” she asks gently as she opens her arms to the child, allowing the little girl to choose. After a brief moment of indecision, Anila nods and is transferred into Nessuna’s hold. The Teifling sits on the ground and folds her legs under her, settling the little girl into her lap. 

The stranger immediately goes through the satchel and soon pulls out a smaller pouch. He drops the larger satchel, riffling through the smaller one with quick fingers. The large satchel hits the ground with some weight and Tiffani stares at it, wide-eyed.

“What else did you take?” Tiffani asks.

The stranger bends down, assured that all of his possessions are accounted for, and retrieves the satchel once more. He shoves his hand in and pulls out a ragged rabbit doll. It looks old and well-loved.

“No!” The girl yelps, attempting to climb out of Nessuna’s lap, but the Teifling holds her still with gentle hands on her shoulders. The girl continues to struggle anyway. “Please no! That’s my little brother’s! I promised to bring it back, I have to bring it back to him! You can’t take me to Cap! I have to get back to him!”

“Your brother?” Max asks, drawing the frantic child's attention back to him. “You’ve got a brother waiting for you?”

“Yes!” she cries. “He’s too little! He needs me. Please. Please! I promise I’ll give it all back. I swear!”

Oh dear. He really doesn’t want to ask the next question because he is sure he knows what the answer will be. He asks anyway.

“Why are you stealing from people?”

“We need to eat.” the girl says on a whimper. All the fight seems to go out of her and she collapses onto Nessuna. He meets the Teifling’s wide-eyed stare with his own. They are both at a loss as to what to do now.

“Perhaps, we should take this inside,” comes Noori’s soft voice. 

Maximillian looks around, startled to see that the crowd from his performance and a few more curious folks have joined the spectacle they have created. Noori, as always, has wisdom. 

“I have a quiet spot in the Pot and Pestle we could use to calm the child and maybe also clean her up a bit.”

“Yes, let's move this inside.” He straightens from his heavy body from his crouch and in a booming voice thanks everyone for coming and enjoying his tale before dismissing them all with wishes of a happy Firefly Festival. Nessuna picks up the child and carries her into the tea shop behind Clari and Noori. Tiffani follows behind, hands shoved in his pockets walking slowly. Max notices the stranger hesitate, still with the stuffed animal in hand. He looks down at it, and back at the girl disappearing into the tea shop. He turns to Max, the only remaining person in the area and holds out the bunny and the satchel for him to take. Max shakes his head.

“You should come too, kid.” And then he turns and follows the others inside. 

Noori

As Noori walks into her shop, she sees there are only a few customers scattered among the cozy furniture. A low hum of conversation fills the tree up with the kind of warmth Noori loves, but she knows that, for now, she must close the shop in order for her small group to get to the bottom of things with their young charge. 

Noori moves to where Lurz is standing at her workbench, busy with one of his favorite tasks, creating intricate and beautiful bows for their tea set boxes. She hates to interrupt him because he is always intensely focused and deliberate when he is doing this work, but she needs his help. 

“Lurz,” she says quietly, stepping in front of him on the other side of the work table and placing her hands on the table's surface in his line of sight to catch his attention without startling him. He looks up with only the slightest of jolts.

“Yes, Miss Noori?” 

“I am going to use the space by the hearth for a while to talk through some things with these friends,” she gestures over her shoulder and sees his eyes widen at the number of people coming in. “Can you help me move some chairs over for us? I am going to close the shop for a little while.”

“Of course, Miss Noori.”

“Thank you, Lurz,” she says with a fond smile.

She takes a few moments to walk around to the customers scattered about and lets each of them know she is closing for a while, but that they are welcome back when she reopens later today. She does not give them a time as she is not quite sure when that will be, but that does not seem to bother her clients. She waves after the last person steps out, then shuts and locks the door behind them.

Noori turns back to the motley crew of folks wrapped up in this mess and urges them to the hearth area she had shared with Clari earlier. Lurz has already rearranged the furniture in the area to seat them all. Noori scurries quickly to the back room to collect a large bowl and towel. She dips the bowl into her washing basin and collects some cool water, filling it a couple inches short of the brim. When she returns, everyone is sitting except the young man she does not know, the victim in all of this. He looks decidedly uncomfortable standing behind the semi-circle of folks around the fire. Noori is unsure if it is the situation that makes him uncomfortable or the fact that he was covered in mud, but she knows she can help with one of those right away. 

She hands the bowl and towel to Clari and instructs her to add just a little bit of the water from the kettle on the fire to warm it up, and then walks to the new boy. 

“My dear, what is your name?” she asks him.

“I am called Zixxes.” 

“It is nice to meet you, Zixxes. I am Noori.” She aims a soft smile at the skittish boy. “Zixxes, would you like to clean up a bit?”

He looks wide-eyed at her before his eyes dart to the bowl that Nessuna and Clari are already using to clean the girl off. The water is swiftly losing much of its opacity. The boy’s eyes dart back to Nooi’s and he shakes his head.

“No. But thank you, Miss.”

Noori stifles a laugh as she is sure it would not go over well and tries again. “I have a basin and a private room you can use if you would like. The water will be a little cold, but it might be nice to get cleaned up a bit.” She catches Lurz’s arm as he is walking past her and quietly directs him. “Lurz can you please show this young man where he can get cleaned up in the back?”

“Yes, of course, Miss Noori.” The Hob-Goblin turns to face the boy, looking down at him. “If you will follow me?”

The boy hesitates for a few seconds more before his shoulders set and he nods.

“Yes. Thank you for your kindness and hospitality.” 

He follows Lurz after a small bow to Noori. Before he passes Noori, he holds out the satchel that is in his hands. She takes it from him with a thanks and he disappears, following after her big, red assistant. 

Noori turns her attention back to the situation at her hearth. Young Tiffani sits in a chair pressed against the wall. His arms are crossed over his chest and one of his legs is folded over the other. It is clear he is listening to the goings-on of the situation but Noori can already see that sadness and detachment that of late has been ever present in the boy returning, sapping away the excitement that had entered him during this great romp. 

Noori is very worried about her young friend; she knows that he has been taking many heavy hits in the last few years. Tiffani had been so young when he lost his parents. They had been magnificent members of the guard and it had rocked the whole community to lose them. It is a loss that most had been able to heal from, but she fears that young Tiffani never would. 

Everyone in Embryveil is aware that this is his first year of the Firefly Festival without any family at all. 

Noori always wants to do more for the boy, but she has found that he has reached the age where those kinds of things are harder for him to receive without suspicion or wounded pride.

She shakes her head and pushes these musings from her mind for now and takes in the rest of the scene before her. 

It seems Clari has worked a small miracle on cleaning up Anila’s arms and face--the water in the bowl is murky and brown now–and she is trying to work through some of the knots in the girl’s hair with the dirty water and her fingers alone. 

It seems that the Teifling woman has given the girl fruit of some sort as there is a sticky red juice smeared over her freshly cleaned cheeks. Her jaw bulges as she chews a mouthful of something. 

Noori approaches and holds out the satchel. Anila stills, eyes going wide as they lock on it. Noori sets the bag on the floor near where the girl is sitting in the Teifling woman’s lap. Almost as soon as Noori removes her hand, the girl grabs it and hugs it to her chest. She looks at her hand, full of berries that Noori somehow missed before. The girl considers her full hand and then the bag. Slowly she opens the satchel’s flap and  deposits the fruit–choosing to save it for later. 

Noori’s heart hurts at that moment, knowing she is saving this for her brother.

Max gestures for Clari and Noori to step away from the child so they can discuss the girl out of earshot. 

“We need to figure out a long-term solution for her,” Max starts when the three old friends have moved a little bit away. The Teifling woman gives the child more berries, and Noori watches as she counts out the handful, placing the larger amount into the satchel and eating the lesser amount herself.

“Yes, this girl needs help,” Noori says with a firm nod. 

“Clari, don’t you sometimes need help around the shop? Could you maybe give her a job?” Maximilian asks. 

“I-I mean, I do but…” Clari shoots her gaze to the group still around the fire, unsure if they had overheard or not. “ I mean, we can talk about it.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot, my dear.”

“Yes, I think it is better for us to find out more about her before moving to these kinds of solutions.” Noori says. “I think it would be good to find out why she is so afraid to talk to Cap.”

“If she’s from the slums, those kids have it pretty rough there,” Clari says. “It doesn’t seem like she has any adults around, but she is definitely too young to be taking on any more kiddos. Cap would be the best person to help, but if she’s weary of him should we… I don’t know, I’m trying to think if there is anyone in the city that might be able to take them in.” 

The three of them take some time to brainstorm names and families that might be able to help the girl and her brother out. Tiffani shows that he can hear enough of their conversation to throw out a name or two when the adults stall out. Noori smiles at the boy even as a careless frown digs itself further into his expression.

But in the end, Noori knows there is only one true answer to this question; she was only hoping to avoid burdening her friends. 

“I will reach out to the Greenbough’s.” 

As Noori says this, there are collective nods around the circle. The Greenbough’s are an older gnome couple well known throughout Embryveil for their charitable nature. Their home is often a halfway home for many refugees who stumble their way into the city. They are the very reason Noori was able to meet Lurz after he fled his own situation and wound up in Embryveil just two years ago. 

“Do you think they will take her in? And her brother too?” Clari asks.

“I think they are more likely than anyone else.” 

“Well, it can never hurt to ask.” Max agrees. “Maybe there is some other way to help them? Perhaps we can give the proceeds for today to the girl?” He looks at Clari and sees her blanch a little and begins to backpedal. “I mean to say, I can give her my portion of the day.”

“No, no. I can give something too.”

“I really don’t mean to keep putting you on the spot, Clari.” Max says with an embarrassed sigh.

“No, it’s okay.”

Noori smiles as the two begin to make apologies to one another. She glances back at the child and the Teifling stranger. The woman is playing with the child, now juggling a small handful of berries for the young girl and Anila laughs despite her situation. The Teifling woman seems to be more comfortable with the child than the adults in the room. 

With the more pressing discussions out of the way, Noori moves to sit in a chair beside the stranger. 

“Hello. I am Noori. I have not seen you around here. What’s your name?”

“Oh, I’m Nessuna. I-I just got here this morning.”

The woman looks up from her position on the floor with a tentative smile which Noori responds to with a glowing grin of her own. 

“Well, it is very nice to meet you. I am Noori. Would you like some tea?”

“Oh, yes. Thank you.” Noori begins to make tea from the leaves still sitting near the hearth that she had used earlier during her time with Clari. Max and Clari come and take seats in the circle around the fire as well.

“Thank you for stopping that barrel, Nessuna.” Max says as he lowers his girth into a plush, leather chair. “We owe you dearly for that.”

“No, of course. I am glad I was able to help at all.”

“Us too.” Noori says as she hands a tea cup to Nessuna. The little girl follows the cup with her eyes, clearly wanting to try it. Noori chuckles before making another quick cup and hands it to Anila.

“Careful now, it’s a little–” she doesn’t get to finish the warning as Anila takes a hurried gulp of the scalding beverage. To her credit, she does not spit it out. Her cheeks and face turn purple and her eyes water, but she swallows it down. 

“Oh dear!” Noori says, hands fluttering around her. 

“I've got it, I’ve got it,” Max says, reaching out a hand to the cup. He does not touch it, but the bottom of the cup ices over for a few seconds before it steams away. “There. It should be cooler, and a little sweeter.” The child looks dubiously down at the cup. “I promise it will be better this time.” The child’s curiosity wins out over the lingering pain and she takes a hesitant sip. Her eyes go wide and then she is chugging the drink down as fast as she can. 

Noori looks over to where Tiffani is still sitting in his own little corner, close enough to participate if he wants but far enough away to act like he couldn’t care less about the goings-on. Noori gets up from her seat and goes to him.

“Would you like any tea?” She watches his face kind of fold into itself, as though he wants to continue playing the aloof teen but really does want some tea.

He crosses his arms tighter and sinks a little deeper into his chair.

“If you have any milk tea, I wouldn’t mind that.”

“Of course. I always have some for you,” she winks and walks away from the group to make the treat for the mulish boy. 

As she returns with the drink, Lurz and the boy Zixxes appear from the back room. 

“How did the clean-up go?” Noori asks cherrily as she hands the cup to Tiffani. He thanks her politely, and she cannot help but pat his cute little head before moving over to her Zixxes.

“It was fine,” the boy answers. However, though his skin is cleaned of mud, his pants and shirt are unsalvageable and stained brown with it. “Thank you for your hospitality,” he says despite this.

“No thanks needed.”

The boy stands awkwardly for a moment in the middle of the room before executing another short bow of his head to Noori. “Goodbye,” he says and turns for the door.

“Wait!” Max calls. “I can help get those stains out of your clothing if you would like.”

“They are fine. I must go retrieve the things I lost in this forest.”

Before he is even near the door, there is a frantic pounding on the outside of it. The strange boy stutters to a stop and stares at it, before glancing back at the group at the hearth.

Noori rushes past Zixxes to get to the door. 

At the door is a Forest Gnome woman with blonde hair piled up in a big bun on top of her head. It appears that at one time the bun had been neatly secured, but now fly away hairs spiral everywhere and it tilts to one side. The woman is Miette Larkwing, a regular in the Pot and Pestle. Behind her is a little boy Noori recognizes as her son. Miette is weeping, but as soon as she sees Noori, relief floods through her expression. 

“Noori,” she says in a half sob. “Please, I need help and I don’t know if anyone else can!”

“What’s happened?”

But as the woman tries to speak, she loses control of the small amount of calm she seemed to have gained and begins sobbing uncontrollably making her words impossible to decipher. 

Noori pulls the tiny woman into the shop; the boy trails in behind her, clutching his mother’s skirts. Noori gets her settled on the seat she had abandoned and then bustles around the shop putting together a calming tea that is a preferred item of the gnomish woman. She places the warm mug in the woman’s small hands, and Noori settles her old bones onto the floor. She groans with the effort of it, but this is the only way she would be able to look the much shorter woman in her eye. 

She wraps her hands around the woman’s and leads her in calming breaths for a few long minutes until the sobbing quiets. The boy by her side is silent the entire time and that rattles Noori, but she pushes that aside for now and focuses on the mother. 

“Now, tell us what is going on.”

Nessuna

Nessuna holds the small girl close in her arms as Noori settles the distraught woman on the chair next to where she sits on the floor. The woman’s hysterics seem to further quiet the child in her arms, and the little blue girl nervously burrows a bit deeper into Nessuna’s cloak, watching as the woman’s sobs slowly fade. The boy at the woman’s side is strangely quiet. It is as unnerving as it is rare, to see a child not react when their guardian is distraught.

“Now, tell us what’s going on,” Noori urges the woman.

The gnomish stranger takes a few more gasping breaths before she gets herself together enough to speak.

“Hewitt. My husband, Hewitt. He- he took the children out on a ranging expedition. They were going to practice foraging and tracking and he was taking them to train only a few hours walk from the city. But it’s been three days, Noori.” The woman’s voice breaks with anguish, and for a few moments she struggles to speak beyond it. When she gathers herself again, her voice is heavily muddled with tears. “I- I sent a couple of the young men and women from our Grove to find them and they could only find Nim.” She grabs at the hand of the boy standing silently watching his mother weep. Nessuna watches Nim closely as his mother pushes on, speaking so quickly as though, if she doesn’t get it all out in one go, she will not be able to continue at all.

“He was a mess and he was hurt so bad, but- but we got him to a healer and he’s better. The search party just found him wandering all alone and they couldn’t find my husband or my daughter and when they asked Nim he wouldn’t say anything! Even now, after the healing he won’t speak and- and I just don’t know what to do.” 

She takes another long, shuddering breath, gulping back hysteria as best as she can before continuing. “And then I thought of you, Noori. And your teas!” She holds up the cup in her hand to emphasize her point. “You always have something to help. Even now, this is the calmest I have been in the last few days and it is thanks to your tea. So I thought, you had to have something, something to help my boy. Please. Anything to help him talk again. Noori, please. Because, I don’t know what else to do or where else to go. And I just need my family back.”

“Dear, that is terrible,” Noori whispers, placing one hand on the woman and the other on the child as she looks up at the stunned group around her. 

“Maybe talking is hard right now,” The Wood Elf boy from the corner whispers into the quiet room. “Maybe he just needs time.”

Nessuna looks to the boy, as does every eye in the room; his face twists into a scowl. “You’re all fluttering around him, and it’s clear that something traumatic and horrible happened to him and you’re just trying to force him to talk.”

At the word traumatic, the mother of the child breaks down in sobs again and a few of the adults glare at the teen.

“Tiffani,” Clari says with admonishment in her tone.

“What?” He snaps back. “We should have some empathy for the boy.”

Nessuna understands what the one called Tiffani is saying. It is clear that, if the child is choosing not to speak, there is more harm in forcing him to when he is not ready. But if it is not a choice, and rather a condition, it might be worse for the boy if they just let him be. It is clear to Nessuna that Tiffani is young, and so perhaps he has not considered this. But it is also clear that the young man has a soft heart, and that is something to be admired. 

She shares none of these musings though, as she is a stranger in this city and she does not believe it is her place to speak up. 

The woman pulls herself together again and nods. “You’re right, Tiffani. And if that was the case, I would leave him be and try to find my family another way, but… but look.” She looks down at her son, wiping at her sopping wet cheeks. “Nim, Honey. Would you like to speak with this young man?”

The boy nods and turns to Tiffani. He tries to speak but he cannot. Where Nessusa sits, she can see his jaw working under the skin of his small cheeks; she can see the muscles moving and his jaw flex… but his lips remain sealed. He does not open his mouth. And though his expression does not change, she can feel frustration rolling off of the boy. 

Nessuna leans in closer, furrowing her eyebrows in concentration as she half-folds over the child still in her lap. This looks familiar to her. 

She has seen something similar to this, though it has been a long time. She remembers one of the rangers, when she was younger, going into the Underdark and coming back unable to speak for a while. His voice had returned on its own some days or weeks later; and when he was able to speak again, he told all that a spell had been set on him to prevent him from talking about what happened. She was too young then to remember now the ramifications of what he had been kept from saying, but a troubling time had set upon them because the ranger had been unable to warn the outpost. 

This is something Nessuna cannot keep to herself.

“I’ve seen this before,” Nessuna says as she sits up straight again, capturing the attention of all around. She feels a normal rush of anxiety, but it is easily brushed aside for the importance of her information. “It’s a spell. Whatever happened, whatever he saw, he is unable to talk about it.”

“Why? Why would someone spell a child?” The woman busts out as she clutches Nim closer to her.

“I- I don’t know.” Nessuna falters under the heat of a mother’s demand. “But it will go away, in its own time. He will be able to speak once the spell runs its course.”

“And how long will that be?” The woman demands.

Nessuna casts about in her memory, trying to find an answer to that question, but she knows she has none. 

“I don’t know.” She tells the woman, words heavy with apology.

The gnomish woman burst out in tears again, clutching her son closer still. “We have to find them now!” she wails. “My baby girl is still out there!” 

“Okay,” Noori says, her voice still somehow soothing when she raises it to be heard over the weeping woman. “Can you tell us where they went for the expedition?”

“No, I don’t know. My husband is a ranger and really good in the forest. He plans all of these outings, and all I know is the direction they go and about how far.”

“Is the boy able to write?” Maximilian asks and when Nessuna looks up she sees he is doing some sort of magic. She had not noticed when he began, but it is definitely some kind of ritual casting.

“No, he hasn’t begun to learn his letters yet.”

“Can he draw then?” Maximilian asks, not pausing in his ritual. Noori reaches into one of the many pouches around her waist and produces a piece of paper and a sketching stone. The boy takes the paper and stone; he squats onto the floor and begins to draw in earnest. After a few tense moments, the boy drops the rock and raises the paper. He holds the page out, showing it to each person in the room; his face is still blank but his movements are earnest. But Nessuna can make neither heads nor tails of the drawing. When she looks around the group, she sees other confused expressions.

“Clari, do you have maps or an atlas?” Maximillian asks. “Maybe the boy can point us in the right direction.” Clearly the bard did not hold much hope for the child’s artistic rendering.

“Maps, yes, I can go and find maps of the surrounding forests. But, Max, do you think that maybe you could use your deck to maybe help this family out?”

“Perhaps,” Maximilian concedes as he finishes his ritual. He stares at the boy and his eyes widen. Whatever he sees is not good, and it’s obvious. “Yes, Clari, I think the maps would be helpful.” He meets the bookkeeper's worried gaze with a heavy air.

Clari hesitates, biting her lip. She seems to understand whatever it was that the bard had seen.

“Max, is there not… You’ll help them, right? I think this is important.”

Maximilian wavers, looking between Clari and the boy. “I don’t… I’m not sure.”

“Max,” Clari pleads.

The bard sighs heavily. “Yes, okay. I can try. But could you please find a map, just in case?”

Clari nods quickly. “Yes, of course!” She rushes through a door Nessuna had not noticed before. She can see the shelves of the bookshop through the open door after Clari disappears from sight.

“What kind of magic is it,” the gnomish woman asks softly. 

Maximilian winces and stalls as he moves away from the group to retrieve a small table. “The spell is… foul in nature.” This is all he says as he places the table between him and Nim and pulls a wooden box out of his bag. Inside the box, wrapped in silk, is a well-worn deck of cards.

He looks at the boy and gestures for him to come closer. Staring deeply at the child, he instructs him. 

“I know you’re scared and there are a lot of things happening to you, but I need you to try to calm down and breathe deeply. Here, follow along with me.” 

Maximillian leads the boy in slow breathing as he slowly pulls the cards out of the handkerchief. Nim's gaze falls to the slow movements of the bard’s hands, but his breathing remains in step. When the boy's eyes droop just a bit, the bard continues his instruction.

“Now I want you to think about all that has happened. I want you to think about the expedition. Can you do that for me?” When the boy nods, Maximillian fans the cards out and holds them facing down before the boy. “When you’re ready, and you’re thinking about the time you spent in the forest, I want you to choose a card.”

The boy does nothing for long moments, and Nessuna begins to wonder if something has gone wrong with the trance, but then Nim reaches forward and pulls one card. 

Maximilian draws back his deck from the boy and shuffles it slightly. “Good, okay. Now place that card on the table for me. I now need you to think about your father and sister. Think about the last time you saw them and what was happening.” Max holds the shuffled deck forward again, presenting it to the boy. “When you can see the moment clearly in your mind, draw another card.” 

It takes less time for the boy to reach forward again, he grabs his chosen card and places it on top of the first on the table. Max does not pull back or shuffle the deck a third time, as he stares unblinkingly at the child who stares unblinkingly at the fanned cards in his hands.

“Now I need you to think of the place you were. The last place you saw your family. The place we want to find. Can you do that? Are you thinking about it?.”

The boy nods a final time and reaches for the final card without being prompted.

Max tucks the unchosen cards away and looks at what is before him. He speaks aloud.

“The 1 of Coins. This indicates the past, as well as adventure and fortune. I believe this has to do with what the boy was doing with his father and sister as they trained in the woods. SO they did make it to their destination, even if only for a short time.” He taps the second card the boy had chosen. “The 6 of Coins, the beggar. A sudden change in something. Things were taken from you… They were not lost, they were taken. Did someone take your father and sister from you?” The boy nods but then quickly shakes his head. Again Nessuna can feel that frustrated energy roll off of him, though his expression remains the same.

Maximilian pushes through with his questions. “Not both of them? Just one?” 

The boy nods again.

“Sister?”

A shake of the head.

“Father?”

Another nod.

“Okay, only the father was taken.” He looks at the final pulled card before him. “The Trader. Commerce. Giving and taking.” Max’s eyebrows furrow for a moment before he looks up at the boy. “Was this near running water? A brook or a stream?”

The boy nods again and begins to mime with his hands, pressing the heels of his hands together like a hinge and slapping his palms together. 

“A duck?” Tiffani says from his corner. Nessuna glances briefly over to see him leaning forward in his chair. Nim nods excitedly, his face still placid as he drops to the floor and holds himself in a crouched, ball position. “Boulder? Rock?” Tiffani continues to guess. A light goes off in his eyes just as Noori makes a soft gasping sound. 

“I know where that is,” the Firbolg and the Wood Elf say at the same time.

“Bird Rock,” Tiffani  continues. “They were at Bird Rock. It’s in the northern part of the forest. Well north of Burrow Grove.”

“Good. Great job, Nim.” Max says with an encouraging smile. “Now, can you tell us how many people there were when your father was taken?” The boy holds up three fingers, and then a fourth, and then puts the fourth one back down. “Okay, three or four. That’s okay. Do you know how big they were?”

The boy makes gestures to indicate that there were a mix of people during the taking.

“You said that only your father was taken.” The voice startles Nessuna, and she looks around to see the young boy who had been robbed by the waif in her lap. She had not realized that he was still here. She has almost forgotten about the girl in her lap as well and looks down to check on her. Young Anila’s gaze is riveted on the younger boy standing amongst all these adults doing charades to help find his family. Nessuna sees tears in the girl's eyes and maybe even a little worry for her own sibling. 

Before Nessuna can delve too deeply into that thought process, her attention is captured again by the young man who was speaking. 

“Do you know where your sister went?”

Nim, still squashed down in his impression of a boulder, covers his eyes with his hands. 

“She was hiding?” Noori asks.

The boy nods. 

“By the bird rock?”

Nod.

“Was she hurt?” Tiffani steps in. 

An unsure rise of the shoulders.

“Did the ones that attacked you make you unable to speak?” Max asks.

A nod.

“Did the magic come from a person or from an item?”

The boy mimes rolling and unrolling a scroll. And the bard nods.

The room falls silent for long moments as everyone absorbs the information.

“We’ve got to go.”

Tiffani is the one to speak this into the quiet space, and though Nessuna does not know these people, she knows she is a part of this “we.” She stares at the mute, expressionless boy and thinks of another little girl out there alone, maybe unable to call out in her own fear. There is no world in which Nessuna does not go to help this child. 

Clari comes back into the room with an open book hovering in front of her and maps rolled up under her arm.

“Alright, I brought maps, but I am not sure where we should start looking.”

“Clari, it’s fine. We were able to figure it out. We know where to look.”

Clari visibly deflates with relief. “Okay, good. I was really worried we wouldn’t be able to do anything. What are we gonna do? Are we going to get Cap?”

Anila tenses in Nessuna’s arms and rolls back into her cloak a bit more, trying to hide herself; but Tiffani is the one that speaks up again.

“Cap is stretched thin today and tomorrow with the festival. So is the entire guard. If we wait for Cap, it may be too late. We have to go ourselves.” The young man’s voice is firm and he stands up from his chair.

“We need to let Cap know,” Clari insists.

“You’re right, but we can’t let the trail go cold. Miss Clari, can you stay behind and inform Cap of what we’ve learned?” 

“Cap is coming here?” The young girl says from the folds of Nessuna’s robe, anxiety shooting though her small body. Before Nessuna could say anything to soothe her, Noori is swooping in to help.

“Not for you, Sweet. We are going to introduce you to a very nice couple and we are going to get your brother so you can be together. Lurz?'' She calls over her shoulder, and soon the girl is ushered out of her lap.

Many plans are being made for the child, and Clari is brought up to speed on what to talk to Cap about. 

Nessuna stands to her full height, her long body rolling into a cat-like stretch to get blood flowing back to all of her joints. She needs to keep limber. 

There is a hunt afoot. 

{Part Thirteen: Northward Bound}