The streets thrummed with vibrant energy as Velrik and his companions flowed through the city, the morning air crisp with the lingering chill of early autumn. Merchants called out fervently, their voices merging with the inviting aromas of roasting nuts and fresh bread, blending seamlessly with the sharper scent of tanned leather and iron. The clattering of cartwheels and the lively chatter of townsfolk filled the gaps between the narrow buildings, creating a constant hum of activity that enveloped them.

  Velrik kept his hood drawn, ears twitching beneath the fabric as he scanned the faces of the passersby. Although no one paid them more than a passing glance, he still felt exposed in the open. This world was vastly different from the veiled shadows of the noble estate or the concealed woods he had grown accustomed to navigating over his short life—here, everything felt strange and unfamiliar.

  Dain exhaled, glancing down the bustling street. "There’s far more life here than I anticipated for a town of this size."

  "It’s nothing like my village," Joren chimed in, eyes wide with wonder. "I’ve never seen so many people crammed together before."

  "It’s a good thing," Elisa replied, shifting the weight of the small bundle of clothes she carried. "More life means more opportunities, and that’s exactly what we need."

  Ahead, Mira nudged Dain with her elbow, a sly grin spreading across her face. "Speaking of opportunities, look over there." She gestured toward a stout stone building nestled between two larger wooden structures. A forge, its chimney puffing thin wisps of smoke, stood beside the workshop. Even from a distance, the rhythmic clang of hammer striking metal resonated through the air.

  Dain’s eyes gleamed with interest. "Finally, something of interest."

  "Looks like a decent smithy," Joren observed, eyeing the sturdy anvil positioned just outside the open doors.

  Without hesitation, Dain declared, "I’m going to see if they need an extra pair of hands."

  Elisa nodded, a hint of encouragement in her voice. "Might be a good way to start. We’ll keep walking and see what else we can find. Meet us back at the inn?"

  "Aye." Dain raked a hand through his short beard, adjusting his tunic as he prepared to head for the forge. "If I get lucky, I’ll be earning coin by the time you all return."

  "Just try not to scare the blacksmith off," Mira teased.

  Dain grunted in response, striding toward the forge without another word.

  With one less member in their party, the remaining group continued down the street, the city revealing itself in layers: shops giving way to taverns, taverns yielding to quieter streets where wooden houses leaned against each other, like old friends sheltering from the wind. Velrik clung to the edges of the group, his keen eyes darting between merchants and townsfolk, noting the alleyways and paths weaving between buildings, mentally mapping escape routes in case they ever found themselves in need.

  "You know," Joren broke the silence, his voice filled with wonder, "it feels strange to just… walk around like this."

  Elisa glanced at him, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "Strange how?"

  He shrugged, a wistful smile creeping across his lips. "No one chasing us, no chains holding us down, and no master looming over our shoulders." He turned to Velrik. "Doesn’t it seem unreal?"

  Velrik’s tail flicked beneath his cloak. "Just a little."

  Mira stretched her arms high above her head, a grin plastered on her face. "Let’s enjoy it while we can. Who knows? This city might just treat us well."

  As they navigated the crowded streets, Velrik found himself trailing a bit behind, instinctively observing the world around him. Every interaction told a story—hands exchanging coins, weary vendors shouting deals, customers scrutinizing their goods with varying levels of interest. A vibrant flow, one he was learning to decipher.

  That was when he saw it.

  A man cloaked in tattered fabric drifted through the throng with practiced agility, movements deliberate yet unobtrusive. Velrik’s eyes locked onto him, a spark of instinct igniting within. Then he saw it; a quick hand dipping into the belt pouch of a merchant loudly hawking spices. The thief's fingers curled around a handful of coins before slipping away, the merchant blissfully unaware.

  Velrik acted on impulse. "Hey!" The words burst from him, louder than intended, slicing through the morning bustle. Several heads turned, including the thief’s. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment before the man pivoted and bolted.

  The merchant instinctively clutched his belt, color draining from his face. "Thief! Guards!"

  The crowd stirred, parting as a pair of watchmen, clad in leather and steel, turned toward the commotion. They spotted the fleeing figure and gave pursuit, their boots thudding relentlessly against the cobblestones.

  Velrik stood frozen, uncertain if he had just made a grave mistake. But as the thief rounded a corner and collided headlong into another pair of guards blocking his exit, a flicker of clarity dawned. The man struggled briefly, only to be thrust to the ground, hands wrenched behind him.

  Panting heavily, the merchant wiped sweat from his brow and turned to Velrik. "Boy, was that you?" His gaze fell on the small, hooded figure standing there.

  Velrik hesitated before nodding his agreement.

  The merchant let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Sharp eyes on you! If it hadn't been for you, that rat would have made off with my earnings." He reached into his now lighter pouch and pulled out a solitary silver coin, pressing it into Velrik’s palm with gratitude. "For your trouble."

  As the Velrik lifted his hand, the merchant noticed the fur and pads. The merchant squinted slightly beneath the hood, realization blooming that Velrik was not merely some boy. “I don’t know what you are, but I’m glad you caught that pickpocket.”

  Velrik stared at the coin, a mix of surprise and uncertainty swirling within him. He barely registered his friends gathering around him.

  "Nice catch," Mira remarked with an approving nod, nudging him with her elbow.

  Joren smirked then, a playful glint in his eyes. "Didn’t think you’d be the one to endear yourself to the guards."

  Velrik curled his fingers around the coin, at a loss for words. Strangers thanking him was a foreign concept in his mind. His face hidden beneath his hood, he mumbled, “You’re welcome.”

  As they resumed their exploration of the bustling street, the silver coin's weight settled heavily in Velrik’s palm, mingling with an unease that he couldn’t shake. Despite Mira’s and Joren’s jovial teasing, he remained quiet, reflecting on the moment of uncertainty he had felt. The enticing smell of fresh bread and roasting meats wafting from a nearby stall momentarily distracted him.

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  “Let’s grab a bite before we continue,” Elisa suggested, nodding toward an open-air eatery where wooden benches lined the side of a stone building. A few patrons hunched over steaming bowls of nourishing stew and platters of grilled fish.

  They pooled their scant coin, adding Velrik’s silver to the mix. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to share a decent meal—thick slices of bread, a bowl of hearty stew, and a pitcher of watered-down ale for the older members of their group. Velrik quietly savored his meal, ears twitching beneath his cloak as his attention flitted among the various conversations around them.

  Once they were done, they pressed on, delving deeper into the city in search of future prospects. Mira came to a halt at a notice board nailed to the side of a shop, scanning the various postings. "Hmm… stable work, errand running, general labor," she muttered with a hint of disappointment. "Not a lot here, but it’s something."

  Elisa plucked a parchment from the board, a spark of interest lighting her eyes. "This one looks promising—a seamstress seeking help mending clothes." She folded it neatly. “I’ll check it out later.”

  Joren rubbed the back of his neck with a grimace. "Nothing here for me."

  Mira grinned mischievously. "What, don’t want to shovel horse dung?"

  Joren groaned. "I was hoping for something a tad more exciting than that."

  Before long, they found themselves heading back toward the smithy where they had parted ways with Dain. The rhythmic clang of metal striking metal echoed through the air, and as they approached, they spotted him near the forge, deep in conversation with the blacksmith. His hands were already coated with soot.

  Dain grinned and lifted a hand with a thumbs up motion upon spotting them. "I start tomorrow."

  Mira let out a low whistle. "Didn’t waste any time, did you?"

  "No sense in waiting," Dain replied, his tone cheerful. "Might as well put myself to work."

  With one member of their party securing steady employment, they started back toward the inn, feeling accomplished as the day’s tasks wrapped up. Yet Velrik couldn’t shake the sensation that someone was watching him—that his sharp instincts had overlooked something significant.

  As they meandered through the lively streets, pockets still frustratingly light but imaginations brimming with potential, Velrik and his friends gravitated toward the vibrant displays of merchants and shopkeepers. Though they may not have enough coin to spend, the allure of window shopping offered a glimpse into the things they might one day call their own.

  Mira was the first to pause, captivated by an instrument maker’s shop displaying a kaleidoscope of lutes, lyres, and other well-crafted instruments. She leaned in close, admiring the craftsmanship. “One of these would do wonderfully,” she murmured, her fingers twitching as she envisioned herself strumming a well-crafted lute.

  Standing beside her, Velrik nodded in silent agreement. He had yet to try playing an instrument, though he felt a pull toward the idea, reminiscent of joyful memories from a life long past. Yet, realization struck him—watching the pickpocket slip through the crowd had made him acutely aware that possessing a blade could be more advantageous if trouble arose. Just a small one, something he could conceal beneath his cloak. Glancing at the swords on display at the manor, he always wondered what it would be like to swing one around, but he knew that his size would make it difficult. Watching him contemplate, Mira smiled and declared, “I could teach you to play once I get one.”

  Joren, meanwhile, had wandered toward a leatherworker’s stall, running his hands over a sturdy belt lined with pouches. “This’d be ideal for carrying supplies,” he noted, glancing at the price tag before scoffing. “Not that I’ll be able to afford it anytime soon.”

  Elisa, ever practical, was drawn to a tailor’s display adorned with exquisite dresses. Unlike Mira, who favored practicality, Elisa admired the elegant stitching and soft fabrics as she traced her fingers along the hem of a deep blue gown. “Someday,” she mused pensively, “if I ever save enough, I’d like something special for myself.”

  Dain, having secured work already, observed their wistful dreaming with amusement. “You’re all aiming high,” he chuckled as he leaned against a blacksmith’s stand. “I’m just looking forward to buying myself a decent hammer.” He examined the selection, mentally comparing them to what he’d used earlier. “One of these could make a real difference.”

  The group continued along the lively market, occasionally halting to admire other wares—a merchant selling exotic spices that made their mouths water, a jeweler showcasing fine rings and necklaces that glimmered enticingly, a bookseller whose tattered collection intrigued Elisa even with their worn covers and missing pages. Velrik found himself pausing at a small booth selling wood-carved trinkets, his eyes drawn to a little fox figurine. Crude yet familiar, it sparked a bittersweet nostalgia, a reminder of a time he could barely remember. Perhaps he should begin honing his skills, he thought—working toward the day when he could find his way back home.

  As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, they ultimately decided it was time to return to their inn. The day had stretched long, and while they had nothing of material value to show for their efforts, the outing had rekindled a sense of purpose—something worth striving for.

  Back at the inn, they huddled in their modest shared room, cozy despite its sparse furnishings. Dain leaned against the wall with arms crossed, while Joren stretched out on one of the beds with his hands resting behind his head. Mira perched near the window, tapping her fingers rhythmically against the sill, lost in thought, while Elisa settled into a chair, unfolding the job posting she had retrieved earlier.

  “Well,” Mira began, breaking the comfortable silence, “at least one of us has found work.” She turned her playful gaze toward Dain, smirking. “You better not get too cozy. We expect you to buy our drinks with all that blacksmith coin.”

  Dain snorted in response. “I’ll treat you all to a round when I can actually afford it, but if you think I’m just going to hand out coin, you’d best find your own jobs. I’m always here to help, but it’s crucial not to grow lax. We don’t want anyone to start living like one of those fat lazy nobles do we.”

  Elisa scanned the posting again. “I intend to check on that seamstress position first thing tomorrow,” she stated. “If it works out, that’ll mean two of us are earning income.”

  Joren sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “I guess I’ll have to resign myself to mucking out stables or running messages if nothing else pops up.”

  Mira stretched, rolling her shoulders with a yawn. “Same here. At least we have direction.”

  Velrik, nestled on the floor near the flickering fireplace, remained quieter than usual, mind churning over the day’s occurrences. The pickpocket, the merchant’s gratitude, and the unsettling sensation that lingered—perhaps he had acted too hastily. Rewarded with a silver coin but also burdened with the weight of consequence, he pondered the potential dangers: what if the thief had noticed him first? What if another had resented his interference? Or maybe the thief was not alone at all?

  "You alright?" Elisa's voice pierced through his thoughts.

  Blinking as he returned to the present, he caught the concerned gazes of his friends upon him.

  “I’m fine,” he replied quickly, though he recognized the doubt in their eyes. “Just deep in thought.”

  Mira tilted her head curiously. “What about?”

  Velrik hesitated before shaking his head. "Nothing important."

  None pressed further, though their interest was evident. Instead, the conversation shifted toward lighter fare—dreams of what they’d do with coin, places they’d explore, the fantasy weaving through their minds. Distant but not unattainable.

  Velrik shared after the others had had their say. "I want to learn more, get stronger, and look for clues about where my true home lies."

  Mira considered him thoughtfully. "That makes sense. If I were in your position, I would want to find my way back too."

  Elisa nodded, offering support. "And you’ll have us with you, in whatever way we can."

  Dain grunted his approval. "Just make certain you’re absorbing the right knowledge. Skill and wisdom will carry you far, but so will keeping your wits about you."

  Joren smirked impishly. "And maybe avoid chasing trouble before you have a plan."

  Velrik managed a slight smirk in return. "I’ll keep that in mind."

  With that, the conversation meandered into a rhythm before they decided it was time for dinner. Making their way downstairs, they found a table within the inn's bustling heart and shared a meal together. The food was simple yet warm, fortifying them after a long day, allowing them to unwind just for a moment.

  As the evening wore on, exhaustion settled among them like a heavy blanket. One by one, they claimed their spots in the small room, making the best of the limited space. Dain, the first to drift off, lay against the wall, steady breaths filling the comfortable silence. Joren followed, sinking into slumber on his bed, while Elisa drew a blanket over herself, curling up near her chair. Mira remained awake the longest, lost in contemplation as she gazed out the window at the twilight cityscape before eventually resting her head against the sill.

  However, Velrik stayed awake, eyes fixed on the ceiling, listening intently to the distant sounds rolling in from the city outside. The lingering discomfort of earlier still clung to him, a nagging thought on the periphery of his consciousness. Something was shifting, he could sense it.

  But whether it heralded good fortune or misfortune, he could not yet tell.