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Drabbles
05. Aniki Forfrysning
Pre- Terrier
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Summer 236
Scanra
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The winter of 236 was harsh, even by Scanran standards. The weather had been particularly unkind to the Forfrysning family. It was a blizzard that had taken Aniki's father. He was an experienced sailor, but the white-out caused by the snowstorm had hidden the icebergs until it was too late to miss them.

A few days after they got word of the sunken ship, Helgi Forfrysning took ill from the cold. Since there was no money for a healer, Aniki had cared for her mother as best as she could, but she was only seven. Helgi only lasted a few days before she was gone.

Hours after her passing, the family's landlord demanded payment for the rent they had missed and made plans to sell Aniki to the slave traders. Luckily, their elderly neighbor guessed what was about to happen and smuggled Aniki out of the building and onto a produce cart that was leaving the village.

Unsure what to do, Aniki had ridden cart after cart until she came at last to the town of Sventburg. Something felt different about this place- as if Aniki was right where she was supposed to be. Now she had one goal: obtain food without being spotted by any miscreants that might do her harm.

She had arrived in Sventburg just in time for the Midsummer Festival. The influx of people into the city was an advantage for Aniki- she'd be able to blend in by sticking close to any families with blond-haired children.

Her belly growled fiercely as she took in the sights and smells of the marketplace. She spotted a cart that was selling roasted elk, and another with gravlax- seasoned salmon on toasted bread. It had been ages since Aniki had a hot meal. In fact, she'd learned to survive off whatever berries and eggs she could scavenge in the wilderness.

There was a small stage set up near the food stands. A group of Players was on stage- some pulling melodies from flutes, tambourines, and fiddles, while their companions danced. Aniki was particularly mesmerized by a tall, willowy dancer. Her violet skirts billowed as she dipped and twirled gracefully across the stage.

Aniki's attention wavered when she saw people tossing coins into a few bowls and overturned hats that had been placed on the edge of the stage. This was her chance. If she stayed close to the ground, she could retrieve a few of the coins that had missed the collection plates. Then she'd be able to buy some food.

With a plan in place, Aniki moved towards the stage, crawling around the feet of the onlookers. There were bits of garbage littering the ground, so Aniki focused on only picking up the shiny bits. She found a few coins- almost enough to pay for a meal, but when she picked up the next coin a hand closed around her wrist. She looked up into the pale face of a boy who was a few years older than her.

"Oi, let it go," he said sharply. "These coins are for the Players. They sent me down here to fetch them, and fetch them I shall."

"You let go of me," Aniki countered, feeling trapped.

"Not until you give me the money," the boy said, trying to haul her to her feet. Panicked, Aniki turned and kicked her feet at him as hard as she could. One of her boots caught his face, causing blood to trickle down his face from the gash that had opened on his left eyebrow.

"Oi! That hurt!" the boy cried, letting go of Aniki so he could press a hand to his bleeding face. She took off the second she was free, holding tight to the coins as she ran. The boy swore and gave chase after her.

Aniki ducked into the crowd, trying to blend in. She wove and ducked, almost feeling as if she was dancing to the Players' music. When she was sure she'd lost the boy, she stopped to count the coins. Deciding that she had enough, Aniki turned to circle back to the food stands and ran straight into the boy.

"Gotcha," he said with a grin, wiping blood away from his eyes with his other hand. "You're a slippery little thing, but you're not very stealthy."

"Let me be," Aniki said, puffing up her shoulders to look bigger than she really was. Unfortunately, her traitor stomach chose that moment to growl again. The boy's look softened.

"Come on. Let's get something to eat," he said, motion for her to walk with him towards the food stands. "Then we'll take you back to your ma."

"I don't have a ma anymore," Aniki said, following him. "She's dead. Da too."

"You're on your own then?" the boy asked, studying her with his dark eyes.

"I'm doing just fine," Aniki said defensively.

"Aye. You've kept yourself alive. I'd say you're doing great, even if you are skin and bones." Holding a handkerchief to his eyebrow now, the boy spoke briefly with the man who ran the cart, asking for an order of roasted elk. He held out his free hand, looking at Aniki expectantly until she passed over some of the coins she'd collected.

"You're not mad that I was stealing, just that I was stealing from the Players," she accused.

"Of course," he said. "My mother is one of them- the dancer in purple. That's how I got the job of crawling around to get the coins that missed the baskets. I'm Rosto, by the way. Rosto the Piper."

"I am Aniki," she told him. Between the two of them, the elk did not last long. Rosto bought a plate of gravlax, using coins from his own pockets this time. "Is your mother really that beautiful dancer? She was the best one up there."

"Would you like to meet her?" Rosto offered. Aniki knew she shouldn't- the Players could easily turn her over to the slavers for money, but for some reason she felt like she could trust this boy. "We don't bite," Rosto said, as if he could read her hesitation. At last Aniki nodded. They finished their salmon while the Players finished their act.

Rosto's face stopped bleeding while they ate, and he cleaned it up a bit while Aniki got rid of their garbage. Then they retreated to the edge of town, where the Players had a caravan of brightly painted wagons. Rosto led Aniki to one that had a large, purple dove on the door and helped her climb up the stairs.

The dancer in the floaty, purple dress was inside, removing her jewelry and the brunette wig that she had worn for the show. She fussed over Rosto's split eyebrow, sending him to another wagon to get checked out by a healer.

"Ma, this is Aniki," Rosto said, introducing them before he left. He thought Aniki didn't hear him whisper the next part to his mother. "She's all on her own in the city."

"Hello, Aniki." Without the wig, the woman who greeted her warmly was as blond as her son.

"Hello," Aniki said, not sure what else was proper to say. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Dancing Dove."

"Dancing Dove is my stage name," Rosto's mother said. "My real name is Engrid. Engrid Ellingboe."

"It's very nice to meet you, Lady Engrid," Aniki said.

"We'll have to work on it," the dancer said with a melodic laugh. "How old are you, girl?"

"Seven."

"How did you end up all alone in Sventberg?"

"My parents died." Once Aniki started talking, her whole story spilled out. By the time she was finished explaining, she was curled up in the dancer's lap, sobbing for her parents. Engrid let her cry, rubbing her back gently and humming a northern lullaby.

"I don't know what to do," Aniki told Engrid when she was all cried-out.

"Well, you're going to stay with us, my dear," Engrid said, as if it was a common fact Aniki should have known.

"Really?" the girl asked.

"Of course," Engrid told her. "Our caravan of Players is made up of all kinds of lost souls. Rosto and I are the only ones that are blood relatives, but we are all a family nonetheless."

"Do I have to learn to dance?" Aniki asked.

"Not if you don't want to," Engrid said with that twinkling laugh again. "Rosto is no dancer either. He plays the pipe and picks up the coinage. We need all sorts in the caravan- cooks, guards, cleaners, dancers, dressmakers- we'll find something for you to do."

Aniki felt warmth pouring into her soul. She hadn't felt safe since she'd left home. "Thank you," she said to the dancer.

"Now, let's get you something else to wear," Engrid said. "You'll feel like a new person once you've had a wash and a good night's sleep."

Engrid was right- Aniki did feel better when she'd bathed and dressed, donning the shirt and leggings that had been set out for her. The too-large clothes surely belonged to Rosto, but it would do until Aniki's own things had been cleaned.

She found Engird outside, stirring a pot of stew that hung over the cooking fire. The dancer made her sit down so she could comb and braid her hair, letting it fall down her back in two tails. Engrid had just tied off the second braid when her son returned.

"Well, I'll not die, but I will have a scar," Rosto said, putting at the end of Aniki's braid teasingly before he sat down.

"You must forgive my son," Engrid said. "He is eleven, going on thirty. Thinks he's in charge of everything."

"He's been nothing but nice to me," Aniki said honestly.

"Aye. I even let her hog the gravlax," Rosto added merrily, poking a ladle into the stewpot. He handed the first bowl to Aniki, and the next to his mother, before taking a bowl for himself.

"Thank you for bringing me here," Aniki told him when her belly was full of stew. She felt warm and happy.

The boy nodded, sipping broth from his soup with a slurp. "It was no accident that we met today. The caravan is a sanctuary. We take care of each other."

"Will you teach me how? I want to be useful."

"There's always plenty to do. You can help me feed the animals before we go to bed," Rosto said with a nod.

"I'm sorry I kicked you," Aniki said.

"I'm going to think of it as a misunderstanding. You're forgiven." Rosto told her.

"I think this is the first time that I've said this to someone who kicked my son in the face, but I think you are going to be good friends," Engrid told them.

"I'd like that," Aniki said.

"It's settled then," Rosto said. "C'mon, lassie. I'll show you the ropes."

Aniki grinned, following her new friend to learn her chores.