Sofia
SOFIA
AGE 16
The weeping willow which grows throughout the southern and central peninsula and thrives off the nutrients provided by dead animals decaying near its root system is named due to its unique ability to rain. Its branches and leaves are able to produce a poisonous water which falls around the tree, attracting prey, and then poisoning them before they are able to stumble away and thus provide the tree with its food.
-Tales of the So-Called Dragonborn by Jules Vond
T he sun was low enough in the sky that the shadows in the streets and alleys had finally stretched wide, giving her first sense of safety since that morning. It was the dry season and the days were long and hot, leaving her little time to relax. Dragonborn caught not working could be sent to the farms without cause and the ugly scar on her wrist was enough to send her to the execution block if she ran into an angry guard. It meant that most days, when she wasn’t actively trying to survive, she had to stay moving around the lower slums, looking busy and keeping her head down.
She was lucky on the days she found an open barn she could sneak into long enough to rest her eyes and escape from the sun. Her skin, once sallow from hours locked away in the chief commander’s house was now a dark ochre, freckles she hadn’t known she possessed painting the evidence of her cycle on the streets across her face.
“Get out of the way!”
Two guards stormed down the street, a bloodied man struggling between them. stumbled in her bid to get away, her foot catching on a stone along the edge of the street. The guard pushed her instead of waiting for her to straighten herself. Her knee scraped across the hard road as she fell, but she bit her tongue to stop from crying out. Silence was safer around here.
She stayed crouched on the ground, not moving until she heard the trio disappear around the corner. The moment they were gone, she sprang up, careful not to draw attention to herself even as she shuffled away as fast as she could. Three turns later and she was in the narrow space between two houses, just wide enough for her shoulders. Only then did she pull out the small sack from her pocket and count through the coins. It was a dangerous game stealing from the guards, but they were always distracted in the middle of an arrest and they were some of the few people on this side of the slums who were actually worth stealing from. Lately, she was more likely to pickpocket stones or fake coins from a fellow Dragonborn than anything useful.
There was a gold coin and four coppers, based on the size. It was too dark to inspect them carefully, but she doubted more than one or two were fake. Guards were usually able to keep counterfeit coins out of their purses. Her stomach gave a low growl, but she didn’t move from her hiding space. It was safer to spend her earnings tomorrow or the next day and stay hidden tonight. If it meant going to bed hungry, well that wasn’t anything new.
So instead, curled up in the space between two crates tucked in the narrow alley. She fell asleep before the streets had even gone quiet.
* * *
She’d only been back home once since that day. Her parents hadn’t seen her. She stayed tucked in the shadows, watching as her mother passed in front of the window.
She wondered if they’d been given the news directly or if they’d simply seen the papers announcing her private execution after the scene she’d made in the square. Either way, she couldn’t quite bring herself to cross the street and knock on the blue-draped door.
She was dirty and unwashed, the scars on her back still ached when she moved too much. And she was supposed to be dead. She had to stay that way. She was grateful the chief commander hadn’t taken his anger out on her family. He could have easily had them arrested and sent them to the farms. She wouldn’t put them in further danger.
So instead of running to fall into her parents’ arms, she sat huddled in the shadows until they lengthened into night and then she walked away without looking back.
She hadn’t been back to that side of town since, preferring to stay in the western slums or wandering the drowned quarter. The streets were always dotted with puddles, and if she wanted to sleep through the night, she had to find a roof to perch on to avoid the tide, but the guards avoided that section of Suvi and rarely bothered searching out the homeless there.
And that was what she was now, in part by her own hands. She could have stayed with the couple that had saved her—Talia and Manny. They’d been giving the rites to the dead in secret the night crawled out of the grave.
She learned their names eventually, when she was healed enough to sit up and talk with them. That took two weeks. She’d almost died twice from the wounds and infection. It was only their adherence to illegal Dragonborn medicine and a compassion that she didn’t deserve that saved her.
They would have welcomed her to their home with open arms, but three weeks into healing, when she was able to sleep through the night without the opium milk that made her mind foggy, she’d heard them fighting over her. There had been three raids in the neighborhood in a single week, the army cracking down on illegal dragon worship after a resistance bombing.
They wouldn’t have kicked her out. She heard that in the frantic whispers between them, but she was putting them in danger by existing in their house. And they were worried about their daughter—someone hadn’t even met. She decided to not give them a choice. She left the next day while they were sleeping.
* * *
The sun woke her the next morning, a sharp beam between the buildings shining directly into her eyes. Her body was cramped and stiff from the awkward position she’d fallen asleep in, not quite lying down. The positive of the dry season was that despite the sun being high enough to wake her, the streets were still quiet, with only the most motivated workers going about their mornings.
Her empty stomach, however, was awake and already loudly making itself known. She looked down at the coins she’d stolen the night before and wondered if she should buy breakfast. What she’d managed to steal was likely worth a bowl of corn porridge, or even some fresh bread. It would also leave her penniless once more. Either way, she needed to start moving before the streets filled and the guards began patrolling more actively.
The first place she tried to use the coins, they chased her off before she’d even handed them over, the distrust in her appearance clear. Her hair had grown long over the weeks, and it was pulled back into two braids, but her skin was marred with mud. The decision was made for her, and she headed east toward where she knew a few barns and yards sat. It was the best place to sneak in a small bath and fresh water from the troughs left out for the livestock.
She hadn’t meant to get distracted, but the smell of the roasted meat was rich and thick in the air as she trudged down the street. Without realizing it, she was drawn to the small stand where a tall, thin woman rotated skewers of meat over the small cook fire beside her. She heard the words exchanged with the customer and her stomach sank.
“Two gold for a skewer.”
“That’s robbery!”
“It’s fresh meat,” the woman said, with a shrug. “I killed the deer myself when it wandered by my home.”
The last part was a lie. Deer didn’t just wander into the city. She’d probably illegally hunted the deer or bought it off a dirty scout, but no one in the slums questioned fresh meat, and the man handed over the coins with a few choice words.
Without opening the purse or moving it from her belt, fingered her coins again. She didn’t have enough between the copper and gold she’d stolen, but her stomach didn’t care about logistics and it gave off another obscene growl.
She kept her head down as she strolled by, not wanting to draw attention to herself as she carefully took in the setup of the woman’s stand and where she kept her purse. This wasn’t like the guard, who she could simply pluck the purse from while he was distracted. She’d have to take a different strategy.
Once she was around the corner, she unbraided her hair, combing the strands until her thick curls tangled around her, obscuring her face from most angles. She waited a few minutes before circling back, not wanting to be remembered immediately as having just passed by. She would cause a commotion near the stand. The woman would reach for her purse—protecting her coins—and leaving the meat unguarded for the briefest of moments.
She was so focused, she barely noticed the other girl coming down the street from the opposite side, a chicken crying out and struggling in her hands.
The first step of the plan went smoothly. With a well-practiced lack of grace, tripped over one of the men standing in line, swinging sideways and knocking into the small table that held the woman’s supplies, including a steaming cup of tea. The woman cried out as the hot tea splashed across her lap. She reached out, protecting her purse, but not her wares, and struck.
The skewers sizzled hot against her palms as grabbed a handful, but she didn’t care. The moment they were in her hand, she straightened herself and readied to run. But before she could, an iron hand came down on her arm, fingers bruising.
“No, you don’t!” a man’s voice sneered from above her.
In that moment, forgot her hunger and her exhaustion. Hot fear exploded within her and she swore she felt the searing pain of the whip against her back once more. But then someone else was yelling behind them pulling the street’s attention.
“My chicken! My chicken!”
The man’s hold on her didn’t loosen, but then a smaller hand was there on ’s elbow, helping her wrench herself from his grip.
was running before he could register what had happened, the girl she’d seen earlier beside her.
“You lost your chicken!” noted, looking back to see the others chasing after the creature even as the man yelled after them.
“Not my chicken,” the girl huffed out. “I can steal another one.”
glanced at her from the corner of her eye. The girl’s face was clean, but her braids were haphazardly tied and now that they were closer, she noticed the brown drab color was due to a layer of mud streaked throughout and an unkemptness in the stained and tattered blouse. She was a street kid like her.
They took a few sharp turns before they both started to slow, having come to the agreement that they’d lost any tail or attention.
“Follow me,” said, sliding down a narrow alley to their right. She didn’t look back, but the girl followed without question until found the small stack of boxes that allowed them to both climb to the roof of a barn, out of sight of the ground. Once they’d sat, handed over two of the five skewers to the other girl.
“Thanks for saving me.”
The girl didn’t answer, but plucked a third skewer from ’s hands.
“Extra payment for losing my chicken.”
“You said it wasn’t yours.”
“But now I have to steal another one, and that’s work that I need nutrients for.”
pursed her lips, but didn’t argue. The girl had saved her ass back there and was the only reason she wasn’t being dragged back to the prison right now. So instead, she stuffed the first skewer into her mouth, barely bothering with chewing as she tasted the charred meat against her tongue. She savored the second skewer more slowly, eyes closed as she appreciated the first taste of seasoned, hot food she’d had in weeks.
“,” she said after she finished. The girl was still eating her own, apparently better at making the food last. The girl looked at her, brown eyes narrowed for a minute, examining her like a target. Whatever she saw, she seemed to approve of.
“It’s nice to meet you.” She wiped her hand on her blouse, making it clear where the stains had come from, before holding it out for . “I’m Flor.”