I jolt awake, the short rest cut off abruptly by a distant creaking of a bough in the forest.

That is as far as my memories dare carry me. I don’t remember when I decided to duck back into the shelter of the log, Ebony’s body in my arms.

The sky is lightening once more, however, now the clouds that had cried for so long the previous night were moved on, and the sun was finally able to shine free.

I simply continue to sit, watching as the light creeps closer and closer to the opening.

Eventually, I remember some of my last thoughts before I had fallen into a longer sleep.

Silver. They should be back.

When was it that they always played at his fathers pub? I do my best to riffle through my memories once again, and realize that I must be moving now.

The thought fills me with dread. I simply wish to sit here, with Ebony, just like at the willow tree, for forever. I can pretend that this is a log near it and that we were just taking a rest from potion making.

I sigh as I start to fall into the fantasy, but I know I cannot stay. I find it in my fatigued and starved and dehydrated body to move Ebony’s body and crawl out into the warm glow of the sun, overlaying everything it touches with a touch of orange. I look down at my skirt; it is torn in many places, profoundly muddy, and covered in the deep rusty flecks of dried blood. I assuredly cannot enter the human village wearing this, and my blouse is equally as dirty. I remove my over-skirt and walk to a large puddle that had formed, dipping it in the still water, watching it become muddied and swirling with other substances. It gets some of the excess color off of my garments, but there are still stains and clods of dirt and mud, not to mention the rips.

I riffle through my bag, but quickly remember that I had only packed one additional pair of undergarments.

I give another sigh and look at the position of the sun overhead. It is almost mid-morning, and it would be extremely dangerous to go back to where I had hidden Ebony’s bag near the-

It chills me to think about.

Near the bear trap.

I make my way slowly and as carefully as my tired and sore self can. As I near it, I suddenly spot footprints in the mud in front of me. I freeze and whip my head around. The foot prints are relatively fresh, within the hour or so.

I quickly walk the rest of the way, on alert the entire time, and almost run back to the log once I attain the bag.

I quickly look inside of it, and find a light skirt, but no blouse.

It’s a skirt I have seen her wear a million times. As I pull it out, I can see the slight wear at the waist band and even a few scrapes that she likely never bothered to fix at the hem.

I pull it over my petticoat, the colors of my blouse vastly different than that of the skirt, not even to mention the dirtiness of my blouse. I decide finally, as I look at the sun and realize that I am out of time, to go in simply layered undergarments, Ebony’s skirt, and a thin caplet that was also found in Ebony’s bag.

Although highly out of human fashion, it will have to suffice.

The forest thins quickly as I near the human village, the same way that I had traveled what feels like ever so many years ago. The forest has retreated further than when I was last here, more than I had expected. They almost feel… scared. I ignore this, knowing that it is simply a product of a population of humans, and finally enter the outskirts of the human village.

I look around on full alert at more and more humans come into view. I had entered through the alley of the pub, which is on the edge of the town, and another building that I cannot quite remember the name for. I brace myself and step into the pub.

It has grown since I last came. There are hanging lights on the ceiling with minimal windows, and many tables. There is a long table attached to the ground and with a small door on the side, racks of extravagant bottles sitting on the wall behind it, stools in front, and someone is there sweeping. The door to the kitchen is outside and to the right of the long table that Silver had told me the name of at one point, but I do not remember it. The contents behind the door are loud and I startle at some of the bangs at first as they near piercing level, and I am glad for the door being there to block the sound somewhat. I take a place on one of the many open tables, choosing one more hidden in the corner.

There are few people here, some families and some… comrades perhaps? They are together in uniform, so I would assume so. What job I cannot tell.

Someone quickly bustles out of the kitchen door, who’s hinges squeak unexpectedly, and approaches me. At first I panic, wondering if I looked so out of place already that they have come for me, but I quickly remember that some human establishments such as this ask what food you please from the that they providing, listing what they possess. I try to act normal and hold my head as high as I can.

“Hello, welcome to Davis’ Dinner and breakfast.” She says as she places the large piece of paper in front of me. She pours a glass of water.

I keep my hands beneath the table, rubbing together and pinching the fabric of my skirt with anxiety. I look at the menu and nod, not positive if I am supposed to say something. She stands there for a moment more before trotting away to clear the table near the door that was just abandoned by the precious occupiers.

I make sure to keep my usual rocking in check, though I want to do it even more with all of the strange sounds and lighting’s and interactions that I am experiencing. I look over the menu, knowing already that I will not get anything. I can only hope that they will appear swiftly. That they will appear at all, really. Back what feels like so many years ago, when I had gone to some of the showings that Silver and his band had put on, they would typically do it around mid-morning. When Silver left, he told me that he will meet me here on my eighteenth birthday, but he did not specify how, if they were going to walk in, or perhaps I was supposed to stay outside, and sprites forbid he would tell me which time.

I take a breath as a sudden wash of unwarranted anger washing briefly over me. He most likely did not know which time himself, what way himself, so the discomfort and lost way I feel is meaningless. I remind myself of this and that anger slowly turns to even more anxiety, and I work harder to control my body, only allowing the more unnoticeable fidgets. I look idly over the menu, reading while retaining nothing, inspect the cup which the water was poured into, its delicate glasswork fascinating as I wonder how they made the geometric shapes at the rim, explore the textures of the walls, tables, floors, and I even glace at the ceiling furthest from me, not wanting to draw attention by craning me head.

After some time, the woman comes over and asks if I am prepared to set my order, but I refrain, even as my stomach protests as I realize that I had not eaten more than a few dried schisandra bars for the past two days.

“I am… waiting for someone first.” I say hesitantly, and hope that it is a normal enough thing.

After a few of those dances, she pauses.

“Ma’am, if you are not going to order anything, I suggest you wait for this person outside.” She says, and I realize that she must now think that I was trying to simply get out of the cold for free.

I look around helplessly, knowing there is nothing I can do, and nod. It has been almost an hour and a half now and there is no sigh of him yet. I try not to let my heart drop as I walk past the kitchen door again, the hinges squeaking open as the server slips through. I hear someone say something to her, saying her name as well, and I pause.

Liz Smith.

I had never heard silver talk of his sister much, only being half related to her and seeing her more of a work associate for their interests were so different and they met when they were older, but he had stated her name to be Elizabeth, and Silvers last name was Smith, so I try to peer through the small rectangular window near the top of the door into the kitchen. Perhaps this was his sister, and perhaps she knew something about his arrival. I am not able to see very much through the window so I stand awkwardly besides the door for a minute, wishing I could go invisible so that the people at the tables would not stare so.

Eventually, the server girl comes back out. She at first does not notice me and starts to head to a table to clear it, as the family previously there had left, and I attempt to get her attention, hoping that I do not freeze and stop being able to speak.

“E-Excuse me?” I almost whisper, but I am admittedly proud at getting those simple words out at all.

The server jumps a little and quickly turns around to me, looking heavily perturbed. I am surprised that she does not look mad, but then again, I was not the brightest when it came to reading people, so perhaps she was.

“Yes?” she says, sounding slightly annoyed but obviously trying to hide it.

I cringe slightly. “I-I was simply wondering if you knew a Silver Smith?”

This gives her further pause and she inspects me more closely. Something pops in her face and she grows a look of worry and caution.

“You’re the girl?” she asks, half questioning and half amazed, the wind escaping her through as much as it was making sound, as if I were some fairy tale that she had thought simply that; a tale.

I nod.

She takes a quick moment to think before saying: “Meet me out back in ten minutes.”

I nod again and try to thank her, but she is already walking off to the table. I turn and walk out the door, hoping I could figure out where this fancied ‘out back’ was without much notice from others.