Knowing that the entire town would be busied with the fire, I use the opportunity to head to the Migo Tavern, a place filled with all the vulnerable low lives. In the faint glow of the sunset, I walked into the bar and took in the scenery. Honestly, it wasn't very pleasing to the eyes, it was a dull, dusty building. It looked as though the place relied on its alcohol to attract customers and spared no expense on the environment. And, just by taking a look at the kind of people scattered around half conscious before night had even fallen, it seemed like a smart business decision.

With my posture straight, I walked through the tavern and down to the bar, distancing myself from all the low lives. The bar itself was round and connected itself into a wall that gave out for a corner leading into back storage rooms and a kitchen. On the leftmost corner, I saw a man who seemed to stand out from the rest of the drunkards. Other than being significantly more physically structured, he was more level-headed and had desperate puddles of humans surrounding him.

As I neared him, his flock of followers cowered behind me, and still foolishly gave me death glares. Noticing his people's reaction, the man took a sip of some beer and side-eyed me.

"What?" he gurgled, with the drink still half in his mouth. His head jerked forward and a streamline of beer from his lower lip exploded into a large stain on his shirt. And if his manners weren't off putting enough, the little squad gathered around him started making a fuss. They complained, claiming I wasn't good enough to receive this man's attention. I couldn't help but cross my arms and scoff as they rambled off, implying that they were all better men than me. The man raised his hand, and nearly everyone in the entire tavern went silent in a matter of moments. The remaining talkers were aggressively hushed until their clouded minds got the memo. "What do you want?"

I waited a moment, giving him a chance to slap on something a little more polite, but he never did. He just stared at me absentmindedly under thick bushy eyebrows. So, I took a deep breath, and held out my hand, "North Bu. I've come for assistance." He lifted one of his worm like eyebrows and petulantly shook my hand. "I've traveled from distant areas and I wish to return. However, I seemed to have ran low on essentials and need to restock. Of course, I shan't complete this alone, not if I'm to do it in a timely matter." Though he nodded his head, I could tell the top dog was confused, and I had to cover a chuckle with a forced cough. After no response for about a minute, I said, much louder, "I need help."

Now, I knew he understood as his face went red and his eyebrows scrunched together. Scowling, he huffed, "Why should we help you?" All the half-conscious men in the room started chanting and hollering as their leader stood up, his head a good two and half feet over mine. His entire shadow consumed me as he circled me, growling and making faces. The other men either yelled how I had to fight for glory or that I was doomed.

I contemplated reaching for my poems, only to realize this man would probably rip the paper apart as soon as he saw it come out of my sack. Could I just rattle a poem off the top of my head? Maybe if it was one of Mama's it would work? Never before had I ever attempted it, so I had no clue. But as this giant man five times my size cornered me into a wall, allowing his saliva to drip onto my face, I saw it as my only hope.

Hesitantly, I took a wide stance and stared up at him. Squeezing my eyes shut, I stumbled over the only poem I knew by heart, "Hold on, my child, my hands outstretched..."