“Honey, are you awake yet?”
Pheobe woke with a start to the sound of her mother’s voice. “Getting up soon,” she called, trying to sound cheery and alert, but the gravel in her voice from sleep betrayed her. Yawning and rolling over, she wrapped herself up in the blankets and buried her face in the pillow--but not before reaching out to make sure she wasn’t too close to the edge of the bed. Accidentally hitting the floor wouldn’t do her any harm, but it would make her mother worry and fuss, and she’d had enough of that all her life.
Once she heard her mother’s feet retreat down the hall, she sat up tiredly and wiped her unruly hair out of her face, then reached out and found the glass of water on her bedside table and took a drink.
Her throat feeling refreshed, she clambered out of bed and shuffled over to her closet. She ran her fingers over the various clothes organized neatly on hangers until she found a dress she liked. She left the hanger at the end of the bar with the other empty ones and headed to the washroom.
A quick, early-morning clean, a change, and a little perfume later, she entered the kitchen, following a delicious smell, and sat in her usual chair near the wall as she listened to her mother rattling around. When she heard the soft flick-whump that meant the stove was off, she got up, set the table, and went looking for her father.
She tapped the wall idly all the way down the hallway, then stopped and drummed a little louder on the wall by the door of her parents’ room, but then moved on. He wasn’t in there. A quick pass through the livingroom didn’t produce him, either--his scent there was too stale to even have come from that day.
She found him the moment she stepped out the front door. The unmistakable sound of a trowel striking dirt brought her easily to him, around one of the giant, flowering bushes he loved so. She paused a short distance from him. “Good morning,” she said, and sniffed audibly even though the flowers’ scent wasn’t hard at all to detect. “My, it smells like spring out here.”
“Hello sweet pea,” he answered, standing up. She giggled when he surprised her with a quick kiss to the forehead, though she heard him huff slightly when he did it--she was almost taller than him now, and he had to reach to touch her with his nose. “Breakfast ready?” he asked, loudly brushing dirt off his pants.
“In a minute or so, if it isn’t already. You need to clean,” she teased, wrinkling her nose. She didn’t mind the smell of earth on him, but she knew how her mother would fuss if he tried to sit down to breakfast with the garden still on his hands and clothes.
“Don’t I know it. Wouldn’t want your mother fussing!” He said it lightly, but she could hear the exasperation in his voice as he suppressed a sigh. He passed her, headed for the door. “Coming?”
“In a moment.”
He made a soft noise of acknowledgement, and Pheobe waited for the sound of his boots clumping up the stairs and the smack of the screen door against its wooden frame before she moved.
She headed for her favourite corner of the garden, walking easily on the dirt path, and closed her eyes, taking in the day, as she let memory and her feet guide her to her little bench. It was sheltered under the single apple tree, surrounded by some of the oldest of her father’s tall, flowering bushes. Crepe myrtles--one of her favorites. Her nose guided her to a fragrant flower, and she stuck her face in it happily, then sneezed out the pollen, giggling.
She sat down on the bench and raised her face to a sunbeam that trickled in through the tree’s branches. It was still too early in the spring for it to have leafed out completely, so for now she got to enjoy a pleasant little sunbeam that she could just barely feel through the fur of her face.
“Pheobe! Breakfast!”
“Coming, Mother!”
She didn’t delay going back in; her stomach kicked up a fuss the moment she heard the call, already gurgling in anticipation. Smiling, a little giggle in her throat, she hastened to the door--fast enough that she misstepped and almost tripped going up the stairs, catching herself at the last moment by grabbing the railing.
“You alright, honey? Careful there! Here, let me--”
Pheobe gently shrugged her mother’s hand off her arm. “I’m fine,” she said cheerfully, smiling away her mother’s concern. “Just moved too fast.”
“Are you sure? The stairs get you sometimes. Do we need a rail on the other side?”
Pheobe tried to keep the smile on her face as she shook her head. “It’s fine,” she insisted, “One rail is enough. I just tried to go too fast before my feet found the steps.”
She could almost feel the concern emanating from her mother, but acted like she was unaware as she moved past her--navigating the doorframe with practiced ease, even if it was true that stairs seemed to sneak up on her sometimes--and heading quickly through the living room and into the kitchen. There was no earth smell in here, but she could hear the faint sound of sloshing water down the hall; her father was in the washroom, then.
She went and sat down at the table, handing her mother her plate when she approached, and waited to receive her food. Her nose was already telling her more than enough to make her stomach pipe up again, and louder than before--eggs, scrambled in butter, and a mix of toasted potatoes, squash, and other vegetables--carrots! She snatched a slice off the edge of her plate and crammed it hastily into her mouth, hoping she’d been stealthy enough.
“Pheobe! You have a fork.”
Apparently not. Trying to silence a sigh, she picked up her utensils and tackled her breakfast in silence. Finger food was so much easier, even if it made a mess. She didn’t mind washing multiple times a day when that became necessary.
But her mother would have her act civilized, even if there was no one around to care, so she complied, if a bit reluctantly. 569Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrrqY4MAw6L
“I want to go down to market today,” she mentioned casually in between bites, once both her parents were at the table and well into their plates. “Alone.”
She heard her mother’s intake of breath, cut off sharply in the way that meant her father had interrupted her with some silent signal. She waited patiently, looking politely in their direction.
“But honey…” A barely concealed sigh. “I wouldn’t want--”
Pheobe shook her head. “I’ll be fine, mom. I’ve been there a thousand times before.”
“But alone?”
Pheobe bit her lip. Dare she take a risk if the risk was big trouble? “I have left here alone plenty of times. I know how to get to the center of town almost as well as I know the way to my bench in the garden.”
Her words were met with complete silence for a moment, and Pheobe began to worry. Finally, though, after a moment that seemed much longer, she heard her father sigh, and she perked up sightly against her will.
“Fine,” he said, and her mother made a faint noise of protest, but then silenced herself. “You sure you’ll be alright?” she said, her voice almost a whine of concern.
Pheobe stood up and hugged them both gratefully. “I’ll be very careful, and I won’t be gone more than a couple of hours,” she assured, “Besides, Cadence lives just a street o’er from the market, and if I need something urgently I can always go to him. He’s brought me home a good few times.”
“Oh… alright, then.”
Pheobe smiled to them both. She’d heard the relief in her mother’s voice. “Thank you,” she said sincerely, sitting down to finish her breakfast. 569Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡS7jyReF6Tt
Half an hour later, she had a small purse slung over her shoulder that contained a snack, a canteen, and a few coins for the market. Her cane hung from her left arm in its usual place, suspended by the leather loop that always stayed on her wrist when she left the house.
After a quick hug to both her parents, she was off. She knew they’d be watching her all the way down the street, and she knew that her mother, at least, would want to try to call her back--Pheobe just hoped that she didn’t.
Her hopes--or perhaps the gods--were with her, however. She reached the street corner, brushed her fingers along the signpost there to orient herself, and rounded the bend without any trouble. A sigh of relief.569Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡysfAPSyevz
Once she reached the edge of the market area, she paused under a familiar oak tree to listen to the bustle around her. If she wandered around as much as she intended to, she might need an auditory anchor by which to keep from getting turned around; it wasn’t long before she found it. A butcher whose assistants--who were not much older than children--took turns hollering, announcing their prices across the market square.
Pheobe only had to listen to each call once before she had their voices memorized. Then, with her bearings established, she followed her nose to something more delectable than fresh-killed meat.
The man at the pastry booth she picked was polite and helpful, and even apologetic once he realized why she was asking him so many questions. She asked him to retrieve her purchase for her and put it into her hands after she’d paid him instead of simply picking it up like any other patron. He seemed guilty, wanting to apologize more than a simple sorry, but uncertain as to what he should do. She just smiled at him and thanked him for his help.
She went looking for other things to examine, to admire, before she called it a day and went home. She was glad of the liberty, being free to go where she wanted and do what she pleased, but she was limited without the help of a friendly hand to guide her. She was careful to avoid the thickest crowds right in front of booths, so as not to get trampled, but she knew that she was missing out on some of the nicer things because of it.
But Pheobe was never one to dwell on what she could not have, so she laughed at the rambunctiousness of little children running about underfoot, barely controlled by their distracted parents, and when a little girl crashed into her she jumped, startled, but then helped the little one up and chuckled as the girl ran off with a squeak and a scramble of small footfalls.
After some time, she found another familiar tree, one she’d waited or rested under a good many times, and stood, leaning just slightly on her cane, finishing off her sweet and observing the crowd. It was nearly noon; the mess of people in the street had grown so much that she was almost afraid of walking among them. They jostled each other badly enough, and she didn’t fancy getting trampled.
“Lucia, we don’t need to look at--hey! It’s a waste of time. We need to get supplies and figure out where Synslania is and get the hell outta here.”
It was a man’s voice, sounding hushed and impatient, like he was up to something and would rather not be noticed. He paused a moment, then added, “Preferably not in that order.”
“What do you mean?” a different voice asked. This one was a woman, her voice a bit scratchy, her tone flat.
“Oh, but look how pretty--!” another woman interrupted before he could even answer, and he huffed in irritation.
Pheobe didn’t move much, but just barely turned her head in their direction. The man seemed to be in charge, but was losing his grasp on his group--and what sort of name was Synslania, anyway? To say she was curious was an understatement. She popped the last bite of her pastry into her mouth and then just waited. They were close by, just on the other side of her tree, and she doubted they’d even noticed her, but she could tell that they weren’t moving off just yet.
“Lucia, please,” the man said in a voice that was almost a growl, and then there was a very long, pregnant pause. “At least get what you need first,” he said, as though answering an unspoken argument.
“Fine.”
The voice that answered was the second woman, the one who had interrupted the man by exclaiming about pretty things. She had a lovely, high voice… literally high, in fact. She sounded tall. Probably taller than Pheobe herself.
“What do you mean?” insisted the other woman again, and the man sighed. “I’d rather get out of here BEFORE we find Synslania. We don’t need her showing up in the middle of another market.”
This Synslania didn’t play well with markets? Interesting.
“So, supplies? What--uh, what am I still lacking?” that was a third woman, this one sounding short, her voice timid.
The man answered after a moment. “I’m not even sure what you HAVE… we’ll figure it out,” he said, determined, and then cleared his throat as his tone changed to one with more authority. “You, go find enough food to last all of us at least the next few days.” Pheobe heard a metal clinking sound as coins changed hands, and a single set of footsteps receded. “Kendra, you’ll come with us, and we’ll figure out what we need to get you…” he paused, and hmm’d softly.
“What about me?”
The fifth voice was another man, sounding almost as timid as the woman who still needed supplies… Kendra, was what she’d been called? But Pheobe was paying more attention to his voice--something about it seemed very familiar. There was a long moment before the woman called Lucia supplied, “lookout?”
“Yeah, that...yeah. Just hang around the area and watch everything--especially the sky.”
A shuffling of footsteps confused Pheobe for a moment as they started to move apart, and then there was the boss’s voice again. “And Branwen--take to the wing if you have to, just don’t draw too much attention.”
“Branwen?” That name rang a bell more than the voice, but Pheobe couldn’t place it. It wasn’t until she heard a faint “what?” that she realized she’d spoken aloud.
Well, no point in hiding now that she’d made her presence known. She went ‘round the tree, almost tripping over a root, and stopped once she was visible to the group. They’d all heard her speak.
“Did you say my name?” Branwen asked a bit weakly, and Pheobe heard a shuffle of someone shifting position, feet on the dusty road.
“It seems familiar,” Pheobe answered smoothly, smiling at him, “but I can’t think why?”
“Who are you?” the boss said, almost a snap, with anger in his voice.
“Adan,” Lucia scolded quietly. The sound he made in response was even closer to a growl than his earlier tone.
“I’m Pheobe,” she answered, ignoring him, reaching out a hand in Branwen’s direction. His footfalls closed the gap between them, and he touched his hand very briefly to hers in greeting before retreating again. He seemed to be half-hiding behind Adan.
“You’re blind,” Adan blurted suddenly, earning him a very annoyed huff from Lucia.
Pheobe took it all in stride and smiled politely. “Yes. I have been since I was born.” By sixteen years of age, she was used to peoples’ reactions when they realized that she was sightless. It was far from the rudest she’d heard.
“That was rude,” Kendra muttered from the rear of the pack, and Adan just snorted dismissively. “What do you want?” he snapped. His fingers were tapping on his thigh.
“Adan,” Lucia said, her tone getting harsher.
Pheobe could feel the tension among the group. Perhaps she shouldn’t have revealed herself. She had a feeling that she was stirring up a delicate balance.
“Just recognized your name, is all,” she said mildly, pointing her muzzle in Branwen’s direction, “I wondered if you remembered me as well…”
She sighed after he didn’t answer for a moment, and flicked her cane down her arm to lean lightly on it. It was then that she heard a faint inhalation--recognition?
“The zoo,” Branwen almost breathed.
Adan sighed in irritated impatience. “Whatever. Bran, don’t let your girlfriend distract you from watching the area. Maybe you can get her to help you--oh wait, she can’t,” he practically snarled, and Pheobe heard him whirl around and stomp off as Kendra let out a little exclamation of protest. “Come on, Kendra!” he yelled over his shoulder.
Pheobe gave them a moment; Adan’s stomps were accompanied by Kendra’s timid scurry, but Lucia paused, almost groaned out, “I’m so sorry,” but then hastened after him all the same.
Pheobe shut her eyes a moment and took a couple steps back, guided by her outstretched hand, until she leaned against the tree. She shook, quelling the roiling emotion inside her; she tried not to let it show too badly. Peoples’ needling comments were worse than outright insults.
“I don’t blame you for him,” she said quietly, and Branwen gave a muffled squeak. “I--I didn’t realize you could tell--”
“Yes, I know you’re there,” she said, smiling towards the ground. Though she wasn’t able to make eye contact, sometimes it felt almost the same, but she wasn’t quite willing to pretend to look at anyone just then.
“I--sorry,” he said, his foot scuffling in the dirt, and she smiled and raised her head to speak.
“It’s alright. Sometimes people will be cruel. He seems to be… under stress,” she said, choosing her words carefully.
Branwen moved over next to her and sat down at the foot of the tree. “He is. He--We’ve had a lot of crazy stuff happening lately,” he said with a sigh, and then was silent for a moment, before speaking again. “I think I do remember you.”
Pheobe smiled and sat down next to him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I think we met at the zoo when we were both much younger, right here in town.”
A pause; she dredged the memory. “Yes! I remember. Bran! You’d never been on a carousel,” she said with a grin, suddenly remembering a much younger child whooping with excitement.
He laughed a bit sheepishly. “I’ve never been very adventurous,” he admitted.
She reached over to find him, and he jumped at the contact of her hand on his arm, until she found his forearm and left her hand there comfortingly. “From what I heard of your conversation, it sounds like you’re on the road?”
“Yeahhh…” he shifted a bit. “We’re uh. Well we have some--I mean, THEY have… a quest I guess?”
Pheobe couldn’t help but chuckle. “A quest for what?”
“We’re not sure.” And how he sounded weary! Pheobe could feel it in his words, and she wondered what she would know if she could see his face--but she doubted it would change what she knew from his tone.
“We’re kinda… well they have this drive, and Claret has her visions, and… with it all, we don’t really know where we’re going or what we’re looking for. We just know that they--Adan, Lucia, and Claret--have something they need to find and something they have to do. They know it in their souls, and now we just… have to figure out why. Have to find what to do.”
Pheobe tilted her head. “What about you?”
Branwen didn’t answer for some time. Nor did he move much; she could feel his mind turning in the silence.
“I--I don’t know,” he said, seeming bewildered. “Adan is my best friend, I--I’ve always gone where he goes.”
“And… after this quest?”
“I don’t know.” That time the answer was dismissive, and he pulled away a bit. It wasn’t a question he even wanted to consider , and she could respect that.
“I’m glad to have met you again,” she said with a smile, “Even if I don’t remember you well from before.”
That got a slight chuckle, and she could feel him nod before he said, “yeah,” but then he tensed up.
footfalls. Suddenly Branwen's presence beside her was gone as he stood up, and Pheobe heard the sound of two forms colliding, then a sniff that she could identify; Kendra was back, and they were hugging, and she was holding back tears.
“He didn’t mean it,” Kendra said almost at once, and her voice moved away from the shuffling sound that was Branwen. “He’s stressed out and Lucia isn’t helping and he--he says things he shouldn’t sometimes,” she finished sadly, and then sniffed again.
“It’s alright,” Pheobe answered, shrugging, “I’ve had worse.”
Kendra startled her, then, by stepping forward suddenly and hugging her. Pheobe hugged back and smiled, her arms around a pair of little wings. She was surprised at how small the woman--the pegasus woman--was. Tiny.
“I’m sorry,” Kendra said, pulling back, and before Pheobe could ask what she was apologizing for, plowed on. “We have to go, Adan is on the warpath already, and I don’t know if Lucia is hormonal or just trying to spite him…” she was talking half to Branwen and part to herself, but she sounded stronger, in more control. “Are you--uh--alright?”
Pheobe knew what she was asking; is there any help they need to offer to make sure the blind girl will get along safely? She didn’t quite feel the normal urge to sigh, though, because Kendra’s intentions were nothing but good.
“I’ll be just fine,” she said, lifting her cane in a gesture, “I should be headed home, though. I think my family expected me back half an hour ago.”
They all said goodbye pretty quickly, Branwen a bit awkwardly, and then the two of them went off--Pheobe could imagine them hand in hand, and smiled. She sent a little prayer up for the whole lot of them, then turned and guided herself expertly home by the road’s edge. She didn’t even need the butcher’s boys’ yelling to orient herself. 569Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTQbI0fNjjO
She wasn’t surprised to find her mother’s scent when she approached the garden at home, and careful observation found her right at the gate, where her mother was sitting in a chair just beside it outside the fence. She stopped there and smiled. “Miss me?”
“I didn’t--how did you know I was here? I didn’t make a sound!”
Pheobe laughed and reached out for a hug, which her mother was glad to get up and give. “I have a nose, you know,” she joked, “and you don’t exactly breathe silently.”
That got a hearty laugh, and she grinned towards her mother.
“So it went alright? You didn’t get lost or run over or--” she stopped, shaking her head hard enough that Pheobe could feel the air move from the motion. “Of course not. You’re here in one piece.”
But then she stopped and took her daughter’s shoulders in her hands, and Pheobe could tell she was being looked in the face. Moving her eyes wasn’t something she bothered to do often, but still, she had a pretty good instinct for what constituted ‘looking’ at someone, so she put her sightless gaze on her mother’s face.
“You look a little off, honey, is everything alright? No bullies there to call you names, I hope?”
Pheobe smiled, blinked, and relaxed her eyes. “Nah,” she said quietly, “just a normal day at the market.”She threw her arm around her mother’s shoulders and guided her towards the stairs with a light touch. “I’m just glad to be back home.”
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