They became business partners of sorts, and eventually friends. It was Flick who took Kyra to The Drunken Dog and introduced her to Bella, Flick who told Kyra that she could stop living on the streets if she made enough money. Somehow, Bella convinced the owner of The Drunken Dog to rent a room to Kyra, and in hindsight, it was a good thing she had. Most of the children from Kyra’s younger days were gone. Kyra had no idea where they were or whether they were still alive.

“Griffin feathers, milady? Bring you good luck.” A small boy with stringy hair thrust a tattered bunch of feathers at her.

Kyra almost walked past him, then sighed and turned around. Everything about the boy betrayed him as new to the streets, from the way he failed to blend in, to his carelessness in addressing strangers. She took the boy’s trinket and rolled it between her fingers. “You new at this?”

Confusion flashed across the boy’s face. “Just a quarter copper each, milady.”

Kyra handed it back to him. “You can’t take chicken feathers and say they’re from griffins. People in’t that dull.”

The boy jerked his hand back. “You in’t never seen a griffin before.”

“No, but I’ve seen a chicken. Look, the traders can say anything they want about their goods, and folk won’t argue with them. But nobody’ll believe you went across the Aerin Mountains. You’ll end up with your money taken if you’re lucky, or flogged and pilloried if you’re not.”

Real fear flashed through his eyes, and Kyra’s annoyance gave way to pity. She shook her head and handed the boy a coin. “It’s clever, I’ll give you that. You out here alone?”

The boy hesitated, then gave an unconvincing shake of his head.

“Come with me. I’ll take you to some others.”

She continued on her way. If he’d refused to follow, she would have let him go, but she heard the boy fall into step behind her. As the streets grew narrower, the buildings crowded together so the upper stories hung over the pathways, blocking much of the already waning sunlight. As a child, Kyra had never noticed the smell of garbage and sweat, but now she wrinkled her nose and walked faster.

Eventually, Kyra heard children shouting in the distance. She followed the sound until the alley opened into a secluded courtyard. Fifteen pairs of bare feet pounded the hard-packed dirt. The children had dust on their faces and tears in their clothing. Their game tonight was a new one, with rules Kyra didn’t recognize. But like the other games, it involved a lot of running. Running was the easiest way to stay warm.