To our misfortune we were born!
The scruffy little rat looked at her like she might believe he was a sweet thing, a pink and white blossom from the Deluminian nobility. He withdrew the act as she spoke, his demeanor eventually shifting into a clever-eyed magpie. Saphira thought it suited him better.
She snorted at his words. ”If they were selling…” Her mouth twisted into something cruel, disentangling itself before she went on. ”They’re not. Thirty percent of what I’m getting isn’t enough to feed one, nevermind two.” Saphira grinned welcomingly at a pair of passersby, who gave the salt-washed pair a concerned glance before pressing further through the crowd. ”Not much for peddling, either.” She huffed a sad almost-laugh, setting her gaze beyond him. Some pair they were, a washed-up warrior who should’ve had a whole life before her and a scheming street urchin. Hardly a pair, really; she’d be just as glad to be rid of him. This she told herself firmly as a willow switch, which is to say, not at all.
Saphira shuffled around her wares a moment. ”You’re smart,” she started, though how smart was he to approach her over selling shells, she wondered, ”you think of something that feeds two and that you don’t want to do yourself…” she trailed off, not sure of how to proceed. What did she want to reveal about herself? Not her past, no, not her true skills, never. She couldn’t do that anymore, wouldn’t. She thought about the man on the shore, how he’d shaken her sand foundations, but she wouldn’t let them crumble. Not twice in one life. ”I’m sure there are other mean old ponies to do your work for you.”
@Caspian
