"I got it." Lirssa set the white handkerchief on the crate next to Elliott with a sigh. He sat on the ground, sacks of flour at his back, his eyes closed. He was still gaunt, but it was hard for Lirssa to tell if that was not just the way he always looked.

Elliott opened his eyes and reached for the handkerchief. "You seem less than enthusiastic, child."

"Lirssa, my name is Lirssa." She snapped. Being called a child after that fight with Mister Lucky was just too much.

The mage did not seem to mind her sharp tone, and smoothly replied. "Lirssa, yes, you are right." He opened the handkerchief with care, unfolding the corners to reveal shavings of blue wax. "Did you have trouble getting it?"

"Nope. Was surprised it was still there. How'd you know?" Lirssa sat on the ground across from him. She didn't care if she got her clothes dirty. It wasn't the motley. That had been too damaged to consider repairing.

When Elliott had sent her out for the wax, he had also given her a key to his rooms in the building above them so she could use some of his clothes. She had been glad to see he had more than odd robes. The tunic was overlarge and she rolled up the sleeves and belted it in. The pants were baggy but not too terribly long. A few rolls of the cuffs and she was set.

"I did not know. I had hoped the room had not been so thoroughly cleaned as to remove spilled wax from between floorboards." He ran a finger around the wax scrapings.

Lirssa hugged her bag of tricks, juggling knives and glass balls, scarves and one particular key, close to her and scratched at the bandage on her cheek. "Why are we staying down here?"

Elliott chuckled like wind through a broken window. "You need not, but I need to be in touch with the earth a bit longer and this is a safe haven."

"From what? You said Fitzhugh wouldn't do things for awhile."

"He is not my only worry." Elliott wrapped up the wax shavings and set them back on the box. Closing his eyes once more, his breath began to slow.

Lirssa felt tired. It was so late at night. There had been things she needed to do before the vigil, but she just felt dark inside. A look over Elliott's quiet repose, she asked. "Are you going to tell me anything about what they are and want?"

"Yes, Lirssa, I will answer your questions. Start with one and we will unravel your curiosities as well as your concern, but not tonight. In the morning. If you are going to sleep here, then best you be about it. If not, take care in where you rest your head."

Lirssa had no where else to go really, though she did worry about her dogs and her ferret who, she supposed, wasn't really hers. But she hadn't seen him since that night.

She scratched at the bandage again and then went to a corner of the cellar, pulled up a canvas sack of what smelled like dust and felt like seeds, and rested her head down, curled about her bag of tricks.

It was colder that night. Lirssa sniffed as her nose began to run. The nook between the bakers and the restaurant had been vacant when Lirssa led her pack of ragged street dogs into the narrow alleyway that served the back entrances of both. There was warmth there. It was a lopsided warmth that started on the restaurant side from its evening ovens and drifted away to be reborn on the opposite stone wall fed by the baker's ovens. It was a good spot, and Lirssa had been surprised to find it vacant.

She arranged the large cloak around on the ground. It smelled of fur and decay. The dogs had nosed it over and over on the walk, inspecting its history in scent. The hat, turpentine Miss Eless had called the smell, was tucked beneath a fold of the cloak to give a little extra cushion for her head. Lirssa curled up with the edges of the cloak about her. The dogs took a little longer to settle, but soon the human-dog pack was all curled together.

Lirssa lay awake and looked up past the empty laundry lines strung from window to window. The sky was in a half awake state of its own, partly covered in bumbling grey clouds that lost tufts of their bodies as they went. Her nose was cold, and she pulled the cloak up to her nose, but did not look from the sky. Her thoughts were like those tufts of clouds cast behind.

Why was she out here" Didn't she have places to go' None of the foster homes could take her. They likely would have, but she couldn't add to the burden. They were all full up. As winter came, it was easier to convince children to find a place indoors.

She should have a place indoors. Mister Jolly would likely have let her stay in his house, but that was too far from the city. She couldn't expect him to do everything for her, and she'd only owe him more. Elliott didn't have room in his flat, and she wasn't sure she trusted him that much. Plus, the two of them in the same place was just asking for trouble from Fitzhugh's gang.

As she thought about it, likely there were lots of places she could go, but every time she thought of someone, she made a reason not to ask. Everyone had their problems. She didn't want to be anyone's problem. When it came down to it, she was afraid. Afraid of owing someone something she wasn't sure she could give. Even the Sarengraves she had earned her own for clothes and anything outside of basic food and shelter. She had done chores, helped with the children, just about anything to keep things as even as she could.

She had to count on herself. Eventually, she would get enough coin to earn a place. Earn it. That's the way it had to be. Bubber said don't look a gift horse in the mouth, but also don't stick your hand in or it'd be chomped off. Don't get too close " that was another rule.

Lirssa rolled over with a growling huff. Two dogs took exception and stood, turned about in a circle and flopped down again with their own growling huffs. Lirssa patted them in apology, and curled back into the musty cloak. She did not like being afraid. She had been afraid to touch people anymore since she learned what she was. Animals were pretty safe. If they were on the streets, likely they weren't in the magics. That was good reasoning. So she took what affection she could from the furry, mud and filth soaked animals.

But they could not answer her questions or tell her what to do. There was tomorrow though. She and Caitir would have their first performance. She'd bathe and stash her stuff at Rustic Hills Cross foster home when most were at lessons. It was a smaller foster home; fewer questions. Then she and Caitir would earn some coin and things would be back to normal. All these stupid questions and their stupid emotions would go away. She could just talk with people again. Maybe make them laugh. Everything would be fine.

Except the nights she would still be looking up at the stars between right angles of rooftops wondering what she was doing out there with only the comforting press of dogs around her.