One elderly cobbler informed her in a hushed voice that a customer not two weeks back had a daughter go missing, and when they found her, the blood had been drained from her body. Nox wasn’t familiar with too many blood-drinking creatures in the bestiary aside from sustrons. Many a thief who sought to kill the creature for the cloaking power of its scent would wind up in its clutches instead. She’d even heard a story from a regular at the Selkie of a peasant boy who had kept a sustron chained in a stone root cellar, stealing its blood to spy on the naked maidens of the village. She had discerned it for the hopeful folktale told by the aspiring voyeurism of men who wanted to see tits for free. What a fateful irony that a creature with blood so useful to humans would find the humans’ blood equally delectable. She thanked the cobbler for sharing his story, though the tales of the bloodless maiden were not helpful to Nox or her search.

Frustrated, she took a seat near the water fountain. She was beginning to hate Yelagin more with every second that passed. The lake’s soaking odor was inescapable. Whether she was smelling seaweed, fish, or algae, she didn’t know, but it didn’t have the same exciting salt and brine of the sea. She’d learned nothing. She’d embarrassed herself. She was exhausted and irritated.

She extended her palm to let her fingers dangle into the water and shuddered, stopping just short of breaking the surface. She wondered what sort of bacteria and illness lurked in the inconspicuous waters of the fountain and withdrew her hand. The only water she trusted was that of a hot, soapy bath she’d drawn for herself.

Nox continued sitting on the edge of the town square’s fountain. Her feet were tired, her spirits just as damp. Enough townspeople milled by that she was able to stop someone now and again to interrogate them. She was just asking some awestruck teenage boy about any sight of tanned-skin peoples like those of the north when a young girl approached from the side and tapped her on the shoulder. Nox turned curiously to address the child, who appeared to be no more than five years of age. Her hands were clasped behind her as she rocked back and forth on her feet.

“There are demons, you know. My mama says they come from the north.”

Nox smiled kindly. She felt her heart soften, despite the wave after wave of frustration that had been drowning her ever since her failure the night before. It was a nice break from the parade of male faces to speak to the little girl.

“Where are your parents?” Nox asked, frowning at the sparsely filled square.