Food
Eurydice had been searching for basic necessities for what seemed like her whole life—shelter, water, and, most pressingly, food. In winter she could make a decent, if flimsy cover of sticks and drink melted snow, but there was nothing to eat when the cold came on without desperate searching.
She'd met others like her now and then, vagabonds following the railway lines and hopping off when fruit trees were in clear view. Sometimes she joined them, but more often she waited for food she could have to herself. Hunger made her selfish, and as long as her belly was full, Eurydice didn't particularly care. There wasn't much she wouldn't do these days for a warm meal and a good night's sleep.
When she found the old bar at the edge of the latest town, the room warm and inviting and the promise of a cheap meal and a candle to warm her hands, Eurydice took a chance and went in.
Eurydice paid for her meal and guarded her fragile candle, and the winds inside and out began to change. Mr. Hermes gave her food and drink, but Orpheus fed her heart.