Dawn spilled pale light over the market as the trio slipped through crowds. The street smelled of damp earth, rotting fruit, and flour dust dancing in the chilly air. Vendors shouted, baskets spilled over, and anxious eyes searched for opportunity and threat.
"Well, quick!" Magi urged, nudging Noctis toward a pile of carrots. Her words were clipped, urgency masked by bravado. Rob tucked his chin, whispering, "Don't take too much. The vendors are angry today." His voice was low, a habit from years dodging suspicion.
Noctis, nimble and shy, snatched a crust. Magi grabbed carrots and grinned—sharp and triumphant. Rob's hands closed on walnuts. Suddenly, a shout boomed across the square: "Oi, you little rats!" The butcher's face was red, voice slicing through the chaos.
"Split up! Old smithy, remember!" Magi hissed, grabbing Noctis's wrist for a heartbeat before vanishing. Rob darted right, heckled by sellers and stray dogs; Magi merged into shoppers, blending with dusty cloaks. Noctis ducked and fled, breath tasting of fear and mud.
"Stop! Thief!" The chase twisted through alleyways, Noctis dodging barrels and leaping puddles that splashed up freezing water. Magi called from a shadowy doorway: "This way, hurry!" Rob reappeared breathless, sweater torn. "They saw me, Magi—I need a better way out." Magi pressed walnuts into Noctis's palm. "Go behind the tannery—the old trail."
"Stay close," Noctis whispered, trembling. "Don't look back." Rob ducked a swinging broom, Magi led through a passage thick with scent of crushed herbs and mildew. The butcher's shouts faded; at last, the trio collapsed, laughing in relief beneath the ironworks, their treasure clutched to bruised chests.
"Thought we were done for," Rob gasped, scraping mud from his knee.
Magi flashed a crooked grin, voice bright. "We did it. That was—fun, for once."
Noctis managed a shy smile, his innocence undimmed. "We're together. We survived."
The cold bread and walnuts tasted sweeter than ever, their laughter a fragile shield against the world.
The shadows of the ironworks stretched as they finished their meal. But the thrill faded, replaced by raw worry.
Rob rubbed his hands, the sun on the rooftops making him restless. "Someone saw my face. If I don't check my stash, the older gang'll take everything." His words were clipped, practical.
"We'll meet at the willow, before sunset," Noctis said, voice steady with hope.
Magi's eyes cut between her friends, unsure. "I have to see if Madam Kira kept her word about scraps."
Rob checked the street, harsh whispers between his teeth. "Just be careful. The butcher might be looking for you."
"Don't freeze up again," Magi warned, her tone fierce but her fingers trembling.
Noctis answered with quiet warmth, "I'll be there. We all will."
Rob slipped away, cautious and fast, Magi soon behind him—her steps quick and light, vanishing into the maze.
Noctis lingered in the hush, gathering crumbs and courage. He wandered toward the edge of the village, chasing a half-remembered curiosity: a strange stone marked with a pattern near the smithy. He hunted through weeds and rubble, senses alive to the thumping of his heart, the soft scrape of shoes on ancient rock.
A star-shaped symbol emerged, carved into cold stone. He traced its edge with trembling fingers, a memory stirring: stories once whispered about relics that could move souls across forgotten realms. But those legends were gone; hunger and rain drowned the magic. No one remembered, save for Noctis with the mark burning in his palm.
No answer came. Noctis pocketed the stone—the weight of hope mixed with foolishness heavy at his side. Night deepened, the village falling silent. He hurried back, heart anxious, to the willow where Magi and Rob waited.
Dusk curled around the willow's silver limbs, moonlight pooling on cool, damp grass. Rob and Magi sat tense together, backs pressed against rough bark. Noctis arrived, his breaths fogging in the chill, the stone comforting and secret in his pocket.
Magi broke the silence: "Did you find anything useful, Noctis? Any trouble?"
Noctis shook his head, his voice hesitant yet honest. "No one saw me. I found something strange, but—nothing for our bellies."
Rob grunted, pain and worry hidden beneath bravado. "It's no use right now. We need a new plan. Today was luck—barely."
Magi, squinting into the dark, offered, "Try the docks early tomorrow. Fishermen toss bits by the boats. Not much guard there." She nudged Rob. "You ready to run if it gets messy?"
Rob's jaw tightened, scratched shin forgotten. "I'll run. But the docks are risky—not many places to hide." He nodded toward Noctis. "What about the mill, or bakery? Last spring we survived on flour dust and scraps."
"Bakery's too dangerous now, Rob," Magi replied, voice tart with old resentments. "They nearly caught us last time."
Noctis listened, the uncertainty heavy. When he finally spoke, his suggestion was simple and soft: "Maybe tomorrow, Magi tries the docks. Rob and I cover the mill. Whoever succeeds brings something back."
Magi pursed her lips. "And what if we're late? Or someone gets caught?"
Rob snapped his fingers, eyes bright beneath dirt. "Leave a sign—a knot in the low branch means trouble, two stones under the roots means wait for dark."
Their promise to stay together and survive lingered in the air, fragile and urgent.
Noctis whispered, "Just food and warmth. No risks for pride."
Magi cracked a weary grin. "If it means dinner, I'll risk pride."
Rob rolled his eyes, but the flicker of hope ignited in each of them—a spark against the cold. Plans drifted between their breaths, mixing with the hush of river and the chorus of frogs. Tomorrow's dangers loomed, but for one night, trust and survival kept loneliness at the edge.