76th of Winter 512
The Docks: Mid-day
When did it begin? What was it that drew her in so? What forced the Kelvic into a mad run? Oh, yes of course. Coffee. Ever since Wyatti was small it was an comforting smell to her, exotic, mysterious, bitter yet sweet. It made her think of times of peace, of calm, of the soft words of her mother, or warm arms being wrapped around her form as she slept. But now it had been too long, and the first time she caught hold of the scent in the docks Wyatti dropped everything she was doing to pursue it. How long had it been? Days? Weeks? Near a season since she last saw mother, since she last was held in her arms, a whisper of words, the shielding stance and her one only protector. How long had it now been? For the Kelvic Wyatti, time had simply stood still, to be caught up in a fantasy of adventure, to be lost within the grand story of the outside. But it was the one simple thing that pushed her to forget. The smell of coffee. Wyatti skidded around a corner, boots barely hitting the ground as she ran, following her nose, chasing it down. She had to find her, she had to find mother.
Her eyes darted about as she came to the entrance of the Zeltiva Docks, scanning the sea of people, looking for that glimmer. People no longer had an interest to her, so she pushed her way through ignoring the complaints and sounds of shock of the humans. There was no time for apologising, there was too little time. She had to go faster. She barged her way through, tripping, stumbling, scrambling back to her feet. Wyatti had to find her, no matter what. She burst through the sea of people, her eyes scanning the area, a look of sheer desperation on her face. She cried out a few times, shouting out for mother, before diving back in. It was getting stronger by the moment, the smell of coffee ensnaring her sense. Wyatti tumbled into a series of crates, the scent here being at its most intense. She had to be near now, right?
But there was no sign of mother, no hint or trace, just the bitter-sweet smell. Children are the most interesting of creatures, the follow their hearts and their desires without a second thought, urges that their adults can resist. And when the harsh reality returns, the fantasy shattered and the amazing dream scattered to the wind is when the true real world awakens to them. Wyatti's head sunk, a fool she was indeed, to chase after what had already been lost and would never return. She could look back and remember clearly now, the pain, the scarf, the escape. Mother was gone, and had been gone for too long. She leaned herself against the crates, her mind letting the thoughts flood in. Too long had Wyatti been caught in the dream, and now that it had ended all she felt was the absence.
Light left Wyatti, all urges to reach up vanished. She had no desire, none of that childish state that had consumed her the weeks before. It was over. She slid down the crate side, her strength vanishing, her face growing vacant. There was no feeling, there was no care, a dazed state consuming her face, simply staring at the passers by in the Docks, her mind vacant from thought before the Kelvic began to cry.