Winter 81, 511 AV As much as Micah had wanted to wallow in his misery, he knew that he had to act fast. He had to move more quickly than word of mouth, and so he had immediately headed south, away from the impending death he had narrowly escaped. He wound through that region of Nyka and upwards into the southernmost portion of the western quarter, where his skills in the forge might translate into crafting useful things that weren’t intended to protect. He had immediately shown his papers, used the majority of the money his father had sent along with him to purchase a small dwelling, and sought an apprenticeship. Within two days he was settled into an entirely new life, and it was difficult to believe that only a fortnight before he’d sat listening to his mother as she laughingly told him stories from his childhood, from her own. The hurt was so terrible that, mostly, he had to simply shut it off. To ignore it, because to allow all of that in would weaken him so that he couldn’t climb from his simple bed in the morning to find his new job, to make his way in a city that had no pity on the mourning – especially if they were wanted. He made a point of avoiding the monks at all cost, allowing his ration to be dropped by his dwelling instead of receiving it himself. He avoided people, really. He went to work before the sun rose, and often stayed until the sun had set, even though it was hardly necessary. He used shadows to his advantage and kept his head low. After all, it was really a matter of life and death. On this particular night, the cruel winter of Nyka out of doors made Micah hesitant to step out into it. His small home would be cold, and dark, a big difference from the bright warmth that had always been his home with his mother. He’d have to create a fire, work to make something edible out of his rations, and so forth. It sounded like too much. Micah lingered in front of the forge, watching the embers glow. He was seriously considering sleeping there for the night. If it weren’t for the growl of his hungry stomach, he might just. With a dreadful sigh, he forced himself to leave behind the dull glow. The winter bit at his skin, shocking away the lull of the heat. He felt grimy and tired, and his hunger made him feel light headed. The sum of it all meant that, despite his best efforts, his focus wasn’t all that it needed to be. Without realizing it he found himself walking directly into a small cluster of oncoming monks. It was late, and so it was inevitable that he would be hassled or at least questioned. It wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. His only option, then, was to duck through a narrow alley and wrap back around towards the forge he had left behind. When he reached the doorway, relief washed over him. What he didn’t expect, when he opened the door, was to find someone inside. |