The trio exit the shack and look out to the beautiful elven shoreline, the midday sun high in the sky.
“Fancy some lunch?” Trixie asks.
“Yeh-heh-heh mon,” Django replies.
“Yes please,” Phoenix says, feeling shy next to the blue troll, but not so much the goblin. For some reason, she can’t help feeling she’s known Trixie for longer.
“Will we be safe with you around, Django?” she continues. “No offense, but…”
He just smiles back at her, knowingly.
Long ago, when the high elves founded Quel’Thalas, they were attacked by the Amani trolls in the forests to the south. The wars were long and bloody, and while the elves successfully kept the trolls at bay, many of them still harboured hatred towards the trolls to this day.
“Django’s not Amani,” Trixie explains. “He’s a jungle troll, used to be with the Gurubashi tribe. But, you’re right to be wary kid, he’s still a troll. He usually travels at night - and never alone.”
Django nods.
“Lucky for him,”Trixie continues, “I’ve made friends with a few tavern owners round here. We bring them business, they turn a blind eye…”
Trixie taps her eye patch a few times. She stares at Phoenix with her other eye, with assessment and expectancy, saying nothing. The elf’s comfort splits slightly through the stare.
Phoenix eventually looks away, asking: “Uhh… where should we go then?”
Trixie shrugs her shoulders, looks at Django briefly and back at Phoenix, who starts to feel a little flustered.
“I mean, where do you usually eat?” Phoenix asks.
“Wherever we like,” Trixie responds. “What about yaself?”
“At home, I mean, at the inn,” Phoenix replies.
“That’s a long way to go for lunch...” Trixie says.
“You know I can’t go back there.”
“Then where ya going to eat?”
Phoenix, unsure how to respond, shakes her head slightly and turns her hands over awkwardly as if to say, ‘I don’t know’. Eventually she says: “With you...?”
“You can eat with us, of course,” Trixie states. “But I can’t pay for you this time. You’ve already taken three silver coins from me, and thrown two away. I expect to have them returned to me.
“You have one hour - starting now - to get yourself some lunch and pay me back. Consider this your first test.”
She winks at Django, turns away from Phoenix and starts walking to the village.
“A - a test?” Phoenix replies, scampering behind her. “For what?”
Trixie speaks impatiently as she walks, talking to Phoenix like she’s a slow-learning student. “We’ve tended to your wounds and cleaned you up. We can provide a roof over your head, show you how to survive, teach you some invaluable life skills, ya know… and in return you can do some work for us, for my crew. That’s how it works.
“But only if you can complete this first test.”
Phoenix looks back towards Trixie a little nervously.
As they reach the edge of the village, an elven couple walk past them. One of them frowns at Django, who flashes a tusky grin back.
Trixie places her forefinger over her mouth and whispers “shhh” to Phoenix. The tiny goblin suddenly turns around and makes a quick movement behind the male elf.
Before Phoenix has realised what’s happened, Trixie is beside her again, cockily juggling a few coins in her hands. She lets the coins fall into one palm and moves them into her pocket.
Phoenix frowns angrily at Trixie, speaking with force but keeping the volume low: “I thought you said you were a trader!”
“I am. In five seconds I made five coins, in exchange for nothing, for a quick trick,” Trixie says. “I’d say that’s a pretty good deal. You have 58 minutes to make three, and do whatever else you can to get yourself lunch. Should be nice and easy. Here, I can give you one if you like, to get you started.”
Trixie holds out one of the coins to the young elf.
“Look, I am not a thief!” Phoenix says, ignoring the offer and still speaking low, despite the couple behind them being well out of earshot.
“No, you look,” Trixie says playfully. She stops, turning to Phoenix. “You have nothing to your name, no home, no direction and you’re in a whole heap of trouble ‘til I bail ya out. You’ve wasted three minutes asking questions when ya coulda been making progress.
“I’m not saying you have to steal, but this is life, Phoenix. You need to learn how to make money quickly, to use whatever you have in your disposal to survive. Unless you want to be stuck in a boring job the rest of your life. We are not saints, but I wouldn’t exactly call us sinners, either. From what you told me earlier about your life at the inn, I know you’re smarter than you make out. Use that to your advantage.
“But you’re also confused - I mean you’re interested in pirates but don’t want to steal,” she smirks. “No offense kid, but right now you don’t have many life skills. That needs to change if ya wanna stay with us.”
Phoenix feels offended anyway. She goes to say something, but stops herself. She hadn’t considered staying at the underground shack, but right now it’s the only option she has. Trixie is paying off her debt, so for now she decides to stay quiet. The goblin is right - though it pains her to realise it. She could use some life skills. She looks instead to Django, for some kind of reassurance.
He places a big troll hand on her skinny shoulder, and says: “People always be wantin’ somethin’ mon. Trust your instincts, be persuasive, get lucky.”
Trixie adds: “Blue’s right. If you get stuck, don’t look at things in black and white. Lean into the grey. There’s always another way, ya know.”
Trixie points to a nearby tavern. “You can come with us there, or go where you like, just get the task done.”
“Best be getting to it mon, da clock is ticking!” Django chuckles, taking an old-looking pocket watch from his white shirt pocket and throwing it towards Phoenix.
She catches it, frowns and looks down at the watch. It is bronze and ornate and old, with a smidgen of rust on one small area. The time is 1:25pm - so there are 55 minutes left. Phoenix places the watch inside her trouser pocket and watches as the pair enter the tavern. She bites the inside of her cheek and starts to dash towards the cave she slept in the night before.
Phoenix glances at the baker’s where she bought the sweetroll earlier in the morning and thinks about stealing something. She looks around at a few passers by and wonders how easily Trixie took the coins from the elf’s pouch moments ago. Phoenix considers pickpocketing someone. Would it impress Trixie and Django? Possibly. But she quickly brushes the thought from her mind. ‘No,’ she thinks to herself. ‘I am no thief.’
As Phoenix runs, the wind rushing by her face reminds her of the sensation she experienced after killing Chrim. The thought of blacking out again scares her. What if she lost control right now? Would she trip and have a dangerous fall? What would she do? How long would she be out for?
Phoenix slows to a jog and brings her large brown hood over her head for the first time, pulling it further over the top of her eyes. She breathes slowly. The leather hood feels tough yet snug around her hair as she tries to forget the blackout. Walking through the village in her new clothes and healed body makes her feel at ease. But there is hunger in her belly again, bringing her back to the task at hand.
As she reaches the small cave outside the village, she hurries to where she first met Trixie and casts her eyes down, looking for the silver coins she previously threw at the goblin in frustration. They are nowhere to be seen.
She notices nothing but the triangle of stones; the feeling of slight annoyance creeps over her. Phoenix sighs and looks around for ideas, hope, a spark of inspiration, anything. The golden-leaved trees are her only answer, replying with a faint sigh of their own from a gentle breeze.
Phoenix stares at the triangle of stones in a moment of self-pity and defeat, telling herself she cannot do this task. She is ready to return to the others for some kind of hint or to give up. Stealing just doesn’t feel right.
As she stares at the triangle, she allows her mind to wander. Three sides, three points, three people. A strong shape, a symbol of sorts. What did it mean? Why was there an inverted triangle on the wall in the group’s hideout?
Phoenix hears laughter in the distance. She turns towards it and sees a male elf playing with his son in the grass. Both have dark, wavy hair and look like a picture-perfect parent and child. The young elf is running away from his father, who is covering his eyes, counting and chasing his son, who howls with laughter when caught. They are repeating the process, and getting closer towards Phoenix.
She scans the area where they are running from and sees a picnic blanket and some food: a half-eaten pie and some cakes to be precise. A satchel also lies open on the blanket. The father and son are distracted, and Phoenix does her best to casually walk towards the nearby stream, as if she has somewhere else to go. Her heart rate rises, the hunger in her stomach urging her to take the half-eaten pie and cakes out in the open.
As she passes the family, Phoenix realises she’s staring down at the food and so she forces herself to look up at the horizon instead, rather awkwardly. In avoiding eye contact with the elves, she is not aware of their exact whereabouts, and the little boy bumps into her leg.
“Careful, Franco,” the father says, and apologises to Phoenix. She avoids eye contact and hurries along, ignoring him with shyness and pre-emptive guilt, moving towards the stream but at an angle that avoids the picnic area. She eventually reaches a dip by the stream, sits down and turns around, shielded by the slight ditch. Phoenix crawls around towards the picnic area, pokes her head above the bump in the ground and looks at the food, which is achingly close to her. She glances back at the father and son, who are continuing to move away from it.
She sneaks up to the food, and manages to grab the pie and some cakes. Before she turns to run, she glances at the father, who is holding his son up in the air and talking to him lovingly. She watches them and freezes, paralysed not by fear of getting caught but the natural way the parent and child are bonding. Phoenix wonders who her father is, that old feeling of confusion, sadness and anger coiling in the pit of her being once again, overshadowing her hunger.
She hears Trixie’s voice in her head, telling her to do what she must to survive. But as she sees the father and son laugh at one another as they spin around again, her sadness pushes her other feelings to one side.
‘What am I doing?’ Phoenix thinks to herself, before placing the food back onto the picnic area. She begins walking back towards the village, but after stepping over the half-empty satchel, stops again. In one second, Phoenix weighs up her morals in her head.
She thrusts one hand into the satchel and uses her other to open it widely. There are several coins inside. She takes three and closes the satchel again, before jogging away.
“Stealing from a child,” she mumbles to herself, feeling pathetic.
Phoenix slows to a walk. She feels a pang of jealousy towards the little elf, for having a father, and pulls the pocket watch out as a distraction and motivation. It’s 1:40pm - she has just over half an hour left.
Phoenix follows the stream for a few minutes, walking among the tall, luscious grass, looking for ideas. She considers asking someone for lunch when reaching the village, but that would be begging and desperate. No, she can do better than that. She suddenly feels very stupid not to have taken a few more coins to buy lunch with.
She puffs with anger and kicks a tree as she passes it, stubbing her toe. She walks on, feeling frustrated. Another tree lies in her path, much thinner and smaller than the first. She kicks it too, this time with the sole of her boot. The force causes the young tree to sway slightly, its branches rustling above her.
Just as she’s wondering what to do next, an answer falls to her, literally. A red apple bounces onto her head from a tree branch, before rolling onto the ground. Phoenix picks it up, looks overhead and laughs. She is surrounded by apple and plum trees.
Phoenix rubs her head. Being hit on the head never felt so good. She takes her time gathering fruit, picking apples slowly from the nearby trees and the ripest ones from the floor - red ones, green ones, small ones, big ones - and places them into her satchel. She also grabs a large handful of juicy plums for good measure.
After a while, once she’s happy with her fruity hoard, Phoenix smiles smugly and begins walking back to the village. She steps over a low picket fence and heads back to the tavern. The watch reads 1:50pm; she has plenty of time left.
Feeling proud of herself, Phoenix enters the inn with her hood still over her head, feeling pleased she’s completed her task.
Most of the tables are empty at this quiet part of town, but two portly human men and two elves are drinking at one, while a family of elves sit at another, a mother, father and their two young children eating lunch. Behind the bar, a middle-aged balding male elf innkeep is drying up clean plates and mugs, while his wife is topping up drinks and serving customers. Their teenage son is scrubbing the floor.
Trixie and Django are sitting at a table near the bar, and look towards Phoenix expectantly as she enters. Noticing her smile, Django smiles back while Trixie raises an eyebrow. The pair have a cup of ale and some roasted boar and vegetables in front of them - far too much than the pair of them could possibly eat.
A couple of the elves cast wary frowns Django’s way.
Phoenix moves towards her new friends and, saying nothing, places her satchel onto the table. She opens it, allowing her mentors to peer inside. Phoenix also stacks the three silver coins in front of Trixie.
“Ya did good, kid,” the goblin says, pocketing the money. “And we’ll have some leftovers for the others.”
Phoenix nods and passes the pocket watch back to Django. He says: “You had time to spare, well done ‘mon. So tell Trix and I, what you do?”
“Well,” Phoenix starts, “I thought about stealing something… I thought about it a lot. There was a father and son, they had left their belongings unattended by a stream and were distracted. I could have taken a pie and some cakes from them too, but it felt somehow worse than taking money from them. So I just took the coins I needed from their satchel and left the rest. It felt wrong to take more from them.
“Then I remembered you saying there is always another way. I got lucky - I found some apple and plum trees.”
Trixie interjects: “How would they react if you’d stolen all their stuff? Assuming they didn’t spot ya, but found out later.”
“Upset,” Phoenix responds.
“Would you say the father had his life savings in that satchel?” Trixie asks.
Phoenix shakes her head.
“So what would happen when they find out they’ve been robbed of a few coin?”
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