Ronwyn stared down at the pieces of bronze and silver rattling around in her wooden alms box. The sight of so much money made her stomach flip, it made her hands feel . . . sticky. She tried to calculate how much help it could be to her, but numbers were never her strong suit. Besides, Moradin would not look kindly on one of his clerics if she collected alms for herself in his name. She had a much more deserving recipient in mind.

She knew every beggar in the city, so when a new one popped up she always tried to do something for the poor soul. The man she'd collected this money for had only been lingering about the corners of the market for a day or two, but Ronwyn could tell that he had seen his share of trouble. He was dressed in rags, with his shoulders slumped and his face coated in dirt.

"Excuse me," she said, "I've got something for you."

The man flinched, he backed away from Ronwyn at first, but then she held out the box and his eyes grew wide. Icy blue eyes, almost white. They touched something in Ronwyn that had remained dormant for nearly two years. A memory she refused to recall.

"It's just some pieces of bronze," she said, putting aside her uneasiness. "Some silver too."

"For me?" The man put a hand to his chest and averted his eyes. "Why?

"Because you need it."

The man stepped forward, peering down at the small treasure. Ronwyn moved closer, but he flinched and backed away again.

"I won't hurt you."

"No dwarf I know gives way s'much. Not without a catch."

"Then I would assume you've never met a cleric of Moradin."

The man turned suddenly, pressing his forehead against the wall. He mumbled to himself and began to shudder. "Not a cleric," he said, his voice growing louder with each word until he was shouting. "Too young, what game are we playing here? What game?"

Ronwyn stepped away. "This is no game," she said, "I just think you look like you could use some food, maybe a room?"

The man didn't respond. Not directly at least. He whispered and jittered and dared to look over his shoulder. Ronwyn was overcome by grief that imploded in her chest. This man was more lost than she had ever assumed.

"I'll leave now," she said, leaving the alms box on the cobblestones next to him. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you. I only meant to help." Ronwyn's fingers slipped deep into the pockets of her vestments, seeking the string of prayer beads she'd left there. The man was making her feel a strong urge to protect herself now. His rumblings were getting louder, his jerking posture was becoming more erratic. She turned and walked away, faster than she had intended.

The man remained with his face against the cold wall until Ronwyn was gone. In her absence, his posture straightened and he stopped whispering to himself. He took one luxurious stride towards the alms box, then another and found himself standing over the treasure. He picked up the box and flipped one of the silver pieces into the air. "This will do for tonight, I suppose." His voice was different now, more smooth and relaxed. "And I believe this box will certainly come in handy."

He chuckled to himself as he strode down the dark alley, whistling softly as he went.