[center][i]"Oh! What A Tangled Web We Weave
When First We Practice To Deceive"[/i]
[sup][color=silver]- [i]Marmion; A Tale of Flodden Field[/i], Sir Walter Scott[/color][/sup][/center]
[color=lightgray]The young boy’s eyes watched the stranger intently Ashe passed, carefully studying every detail from the lizard he rode to the clothes he wore. When the man’s hand moved to the pouch around his neck he boy took special note of that detail too. He continued to watch until the stranger passed out of sight and then scooping up his begging bowl quickly scurried off between the ramshackle shacks.

It didn’t take long for the beggar boy to reach the hut which was his destination, the routes around the city were second nature to him after all the years spent living on them. Pushing open the door the boy squirmed his way inside, passing the rows of tables where others like him, the lost and discarded who fell through the cracks, were busily gobbling down the thin gruel which was a feast to many of them.

The boy finally came to a stop beside a large trestle table which had a large pot and piles of bowls set upon it. Behind the table was Widow Brue, a beautiful young girl who many would feel was wasted in such a desolate hovel. The holy woman smiled down at the boy, her hand moving over to a large pile of freshly baked bread.

[/color]“Do you have something for me G’rash?”[color=lightgray] She asked in an expectant tone, her hands holding the loaf against her chest enticingly.[/color]

“Yes M’m,”[color=lightgray] The boy replied, his voice only slightly distorted by the fangs which were only just beginning to poke out from between his lips. [/color]“A new stranger, M’m. Riding a lizard and eying the place all distasteful like.”[color=lightgray] As he spoke G’rash’s eyes never left the loaf, his mouth already watering in anticipation of the sweet bread. It had been a few days since his last taste, and already he’d been suffering shakes at its absence.

Smiling down on the poor boy Brue held out the loaf, her fingers letting it slip away as the eager young urchin snatched it away and scurries out of sight. Wringing her hands on a cloth the Widow nodded her head wistfully. This wasn’t the first time she’d heard talk of the stranger, but it was the closest report of him to come to her ears. With a nod to the young girl who was readying herself for a life as a Weeping Widow, but who had not yet come of age to undergo the trials, Widow Brue stepped away from the table and made her way into the back room.

She was greeted by the sounds of ruffling feathers and pleasant cooing, the racks of birds reacting to her arrival with gleeful delight as she walked between them. Taking her place at a small writing desk the dutiful Widow scribbled a note down in the language of her order, which looked more like random markings on the sheet of parchment than any form of writing. Moving back between the cages, the holy woman carefully chose a bird before quickly fastening the note to its leg.

Making her way out the back door, holding the animal firmly but carefully in her hands, Brue flung it as high into the air as she could. As soon as it felt the wind beneath its wings the bird began to flap its wings, quickly gaining height until it finally vanished from view.

With her duty complete Brue smiled to herself and stepped back inside the rustic kitchen. By nightfall the Maid would know of the strange sighting, and by the morrow news would’ve spread throughout the region to be on the lookout for the stranger riding a lizard. Within the week every Weeping Widow in the country would know of the arrival, and if necessary the Sisters would take action as they saw fit.

None of that mattered to Widow Brue however. She could smell the fresh batch of bread baking in the oven, and pulling the door open she reached for the skillet. Smiling thankfully at the gorgeous loaves she thought of the happy faces who’d be granted another day’s food, all thanks to the will of Daigon.[/color]