The sun, hanging high above the city, was casting long, shivering shadows of the poor as they stood in line near the public well.
Luca stood among them, Mira beside him and Alec holding his hand tightly. The line barely moved. Ahead of them, thin figures carrying worn jars and rusty pots.
The people around them wore patched clothes and hollow eyes. Nobody spoke unless they had to. A woman coughed harshly behind them. A boy farther up the line collapsed and was dragged aside by someone who might have been his brother.
When their turn finally came, Luca stepped forward. He helped Alec first, cupping water with his hands for the boy to drink. Mira leaned over, her lips chapped and pale, and drank deeply.
Then it was Luca's turn. The water was warm and tasted of iron and dust. But he drank anyway. He didn't stop until his stomach cramped sharply, the cold hitting the emptiness inside him like glass against bare skin. The pain made him wince.
Still, he drank again.
They rested a while under the shadow of a crumbling wall nearby. Then, asking a few tired faces for directions, they made their way through narrow alleys and wide, crowded streets toward the city's branch office.
Some passersby simply pointed the way without words. Others ignored them altogether. A few gave them looks like they were bugs crawling up from the gutter—eyes narrowed with their lips curled in distaste.
Luca kept walking. He didn't let go of Alec's hand.
The branch office was a dull stone building near the heart of the city. Its walls were smudged with grime, and people were lining up here too, for permits, rations, or work slips.
Inside, behind a wooden counter, a clerk in faded robes was scribbling into a ledger. Luca stepped forward when it was their turn.
"Sir," Luca said, trying to keep his voice calm, "we're looking for someone. Our grandparents live in this city. Their names are Alden and Marla Norwood."
The clerk didn't look up. "Thousands live here. You expect me to find two names without an address?"
Luca's throat tightened. "We don't have one. But please—is there any way?"
The man finally looked up. His face was thin, tired, his eyes dull like most others. He looked the children over once, then leaned back with a sigh. "Unless you have coin, no. This isn't a charity house."
Luca's heart dropped. He reached into the pouch again. The few coins they had left clinked weakly against each other.
The man didn't even look at them. "Not enough," he said flatly. "Try the temple district. Maybe someone there's in a charitable mood."
Luca didn't reply. He nodded once, turned, and led his siblings away.
Outside, the city buzzed with life that had nothing to do with them. Vendors shouted about fresh bread and cheap cloth. Horses pulled carts filled with goods. The smell of roasted meat hung in the air.
Alec tugged at his sleeve. "Did they know where Grandpa is?"
Luca hesitated, then knelt in front of them both. "Not yet," he said gently. "But we'll keep looking."
Mira looked like she might cry, but she didn't. Alec just nodded, trusting.
Luca smiled at them, though it hurt. "We'll be okay. We just have to stick together."
He stood again, unsure of where to go next.