#syrgia

𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝙰𝙳𝙴 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝚆𝙰𝚈 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝚄𝙽-𝙱𝚁𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝙲𝙸𝚃𝚈.   toward the heart where citizens bustled through busy market streets in search of meat, fish and vividly dyed fabrics of every kind of texture.  just on one stall astrid could pick out half a dozen textiles that would have made her sister smile.  they made her stomach churn.  

only a few vendors would even sell to her in faurhus; most were too proud to speak to an outcast like her, or any of her companions in the woods, for that matter.   their pious stares made her hands curl until they shook.   once, she threw a rock at one of their heads and was thrown out for the remainder of that whole autumn.   gathering skins to stay warm had been a challenge, but...  he deserved that bruise, laughing at the furs she’d brought to barter, calling her a thief, suggesting them stolen. 

her mouth went dry as she padded around the muddy streets, ducking her head in the cowl of her cloak to conceal her face from the townsfolk. it would be infinitely better if they thought her a stranger;  a trouble-maker had even fewer friends.           no, enough.  thinking of every living thing in the realm as her enemy would only drag her down.  she needed to make friends.  even if it meant only pretending to be friendly.   the last thing that would help any of them was her loosing another stone.

it was when she broke free of the markets that she felt most at home, walking along the beach to crack shells and little sticks beneath her boot, and eyeing pieces of driftwood that would be perfect kindling for a fire, or even a table where she could eat her meals in peace. 

astrid swiveled just in time to see her       the woman with blonde hair, far more muscular than she was, and leans hard to avoid colliding with her shoulder.