Ulia stood on one leg and scratched the back of her calf with the other foot where the seagull’s wing feathers made it itch. “That’s a pretty rock.”

The old woman cocked her head and regarded the crystal. “It is, indeed, but I have so many!” She leaned her stick against the stone and rummaged in the folds of her skirts. At last she found a pouch on a length of fisherman’s twine and dumped the contents into the palm of her glove. White and yellow stones caught the light like sharp crystal teeth. “Would you like to have one?”

Ulia’s eyes widened at that and she let the gull fall and took a step closer, eyes fixed on the sparkling stones. “I can have one?”

As she raised her hand to reach for one, however, the old woman drew her own hand back and closed her fingers around them. “A trade, to keep the bad luck off.”

Ulia glanced back at the gull.

“No, love. I told you, I don’t need your dinner,” the old woman said with a warm chuckle.

What else did she have? The child raised her hand to the little bit of faded blue silk ribbon knotted into a hank of her lank brown hair. It was only a few inches long; her mother had found a long piece trodden into the dirty snow in the marketplace last winter, lost by some wealthy girl. She’d washed it and cut it into five little pieces, one for each daughter, and tied it into their hair in bows that looked like tiny butterflies. Ulia pulled the bedraggled bit of cloth loose, wincing as several strands of hair came with it, and held it out.

The old woman smiled down at her, holding Ulia’s gaze as she took it. Her fingers brushed the girl’s and for an instant Ulia felt the slightest hint of a tingle in her chest, as though she had to cough.

The old woman tucked the ribbon away inside her tattered glove and let the child choose the stone she wanted. The one the grandmother had been holding when Ulia had first seen her was the largest. Ulia’s fingers hovered over that one and the old woman smiled. “Whatever one you like, love.”

Ulia hesitated, then chose a smaller one that was yellow as a daisy’s eye. “It’s so clear! Is it magic?”

“No, sweetness, it’s just a pretty stone I found. Not worth a broken penny but to you and me. Now you better run along and get that fine bird to your mama.”

Unused to such kindness, Ulia impulsively kissed the old woman, then grabbed up the gull and ran home, laughing.

Chapter 7 - Wheel Street