100 votes! Not too shabby, guys. As a reward, I present to you an extra long chapter. And fairly early as well.

Enjoy!👌

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The days went by much the same as the previous ones at Tigo Bay, and with winter taking the world stage, Ylvir was soon not the only one wearing a cloak.

When Ylvir wasn't playing with the musicians, who had ever increased in popularity, he was exploring. The port had much to offer for newcomers, and Ylvir never ceased to find some new fascination. He felt more and more that he had made the right decision in coming, but this did not stop him from feeling the occasional bout of homesickness. He constantly wondered how his parents fared in the days of frost and cold. Winter was always harder on them more than himself, and even he was not free from its chilly bite.

It was as he was stroking Dandy, roosting peacefully in her own corner of his room, that he decided he would take a trip back home after the Solstice Fair. He had made a commitment to the Guild that he would play there, and just like his father had told him so long ago, he was nothing without his word. But as soon as it was over, he would follow Lynelda's advice to visit. With that settled in his mind, he felt a strange sense of relief, and began thinking of all the things he would have to tell them.

He didn't know where he would even begin with all the things that had happened since he haf left. What would they have to say about his meeting Lynelda? Did they already know of his cursed fate? It was something he had been wondering ever since he left her hut. He did want to tell them of Grey Castle. That was something he did not believe he would ever forget. But He was most excited to tell them of his time in the port.

He often visited the docks to see the many ships, all different in design, some broad and tall like they were there to conquer the sea, others more sweeping and nimble as though they danced with the waves, their sails ranging in all colors of the spectrum from bright blues that barely stood out from the sea to deep crimsons that looked like drops of blood in the distance. The ships nearly all were of fine craftsmanship, each hailing from lands Ylvir could only dream of, and the things they carried, passengers and cargo alike, were just as diverse as they were.

Ylvir had often stood at the piers, tasting the salt in the air, the sounds of the port and waves mixing together with the cries of gulls, the wind brushing through his barely exposed fur, watching and wistfully thinking of what it was like to travel to the horizon and the lands beyond it. He personally was content to be where they all met together in a strange jumble that oddly worked together in exciting and unpredictable ways. It was beautiful--not like music or flowers were, but in a unique way all on its own. It often made him wish he could be more involved.

Not that he wasn't involved. The Musicians Guild made sure of that. Ylvir was excited to tell his parents that he was putting his talent to good use. He even thought he might have found a bit of a friend Triel. Well, perhaps it wasn't friendship, but the man certainly respected him. Ylvir was beginning to tell there was a difference, as he felt the same thing went for the rest of the Guild. They were definitely less cold to him than that first day, and they were sure to compliment his skill, but they never really went beyond that. He was sure that, were it not for Dandy's company, he would have been quite lonely, which was a strange thing to be in a city so full of people, he thought.

He did love to play with the Guild, though. It was wonderfult to not only play in a collective, but for a collective as well. The way people smiled and danced to what he played for them brought him no small pleasure. Not to mention the red haired girl...

He wondered whether he should tell his mother and father about her. She almost always showed up when the Guild played, always bringing him that same strange feeling as the first time, which made it all the more bitter when he didn't see her. Ylvir had almost thought her to be a figment of his imagination since she only ever appeared when the music played, and disappeared just as quickly. But then the other dancers would notice her and give room, the crowd would point and whisper, and he even thought he heard a few of the musicians mention her, the word "magic" often being involved. He almost laughed at that since it was so similar to his own thoughts. But he didn't think anyone truly understood her like he did, let alone understand the strange connection they had. If he didn't understand it, how could anyone else?

He had briefly wished that she would stay beyond a performance just once, but quickly dismissed it with the bitter reminder that he wouldn't really be able to do much if she did. He didn't want her to react the same as the musicians or even the villagers before reacted to him, he realized. He actually wanted her to like him, and he still knew next to nothing about her. It was a strange situation indeed, and felt almost too private to share with his parents.

Another thing he didn't wish to share with them was his growing unrest. After the close call with the rude Guild member, he had been having more and more trouble with his unchecked rage, with increasing frequency. Whenever he was jostled and shoved in the busy streets, whenever a hand strayed too close to his pocket, whenever he saw signs of violence in the darkened alleys, the monster tore at him from the inside, eager to be released. Yes, the port was beautiful and magnificent in many ways, but it did not take him long to see it was not without dirt and darkness. He didn't think his parents should know about it. He only wanted them to see the brightness--not only in the city, but in himself as well.

Ylvir despaired for a moment. As much good that he had to tell them now, he knew it would not always be so if he could not keep control of himself. If the darkness took over, he didn't know if there would be any more visits. Everything depended on keeping his cool, which became harder and harder.

Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself, remembering Lynelda's words to make the most of what he had while he could.

Just until the Solstice Festival--then he could leave. He just hoped this festival would go better than the last one.

~*~

The Winter Solstice Festival was on one of the most frigid nights of the year, but it was made warmer by the spirit of celebration that spread throughout Tigo Bay. Even Hemorra was excited.

She hefted her basket of vegetables on her hip. They turned out better than she had hoped, ripe and full. Her only challenge now was competing with the other vedors that night. It shouldn't be too hard; they always overcharged in her opinion, but she supposed they didn't come from poverty nor did they probably grow their crop by the same cheap means as herself. Besides, the streets would be very busy with the festival events.

She would sell them each for a piece, she thought as she sat down on the street corner next to the other vendors that had their own stalls, and she began shouting, hawking along with them!

"One piece! Only one piece each!"

She was sneered at and passed along by many for her ragged appearance, all of them so obviously more better off than herself, and they surely knew it. It made her want to glower at them in response, but she held herself back, choosing to offer a smile with her vegetables instead, even if it was a little bitter. Those that looked a little more down to earth and closer to her own station in life stopped by, inspecting her vegetables and offering the one piece for them when they approved, and she thanked each of them profusely with sincere gratitude. Sadly, they were few and far between, but she supposed it was better than nothing.

She still had a basket half full when the sun began to set, wrapping her thin clothing around herself tightly, though it did little against the cold.

The people were gathering closer to the center of the city where she knew her sister and the musicians to be, waiting for her. She was about to stand and leave with her basket when she noticed a shape in the darkness.

She had seen it before, and it always broke her heart. As bad as she knew she had it, there were those who had it worse, such as the orphaned children, barely having clothes on their backs, let alone homes. They could often be seen huddled together for warmth, half-starved and sickly, in the winter months. And they were always ignored, both by those of the higher class and lower class. The higher class ignored them in their prejudice, but the lower class ignored them in shame, because there was nothing that could really be done for them. Hemorra was ashamed that she was also counted among those that ignored them.

She looked down at her basket, and steeled her resolve. She would ignore them no longer, she decided as she approached them. Slowly they turned their hollow eyes to her, barely a spark of life left to them. She didn't say anything. She just gave them a tiny smile, setting the basket down before them, and turned to walk away. She only stopped when she heard a thin voice weakly call out to her.

"Thanks."

She only turned her head slightly to see them all giving her what looked to be their very first smiles in a long time, if not ever. She just nodded and walked away, sniffing to keep her choked feelings down.

If her father were there, or even her sister... Well, she was just glad they weren't. For once, she didn't want to regret being too soft. Besides it wasn't like she was as soft as all that. If she was, she wouldn't have just left the vegetables, she would have left her earnings, too. She was still tough enough to keep those to herself, even if a part of herself was telling her to go back and give that to them as well.

She soon joined the throng of people in the center of the city, even busier and more crowded than it had been that whole day, which was really saying something. She was pushed and shoved around as she stood precariously on her toes to try and see above people, but to no avail. It was probably the only the only time she really cursed her diminutive size.
She nearly fell backward when she was jerked by a hand on her shoulder that didn't let go. She almost screamed until she saw who it was.

"Where have you been," hissed Raela.

Hemorra smiled at her sister, pulling out her sack of coins. "Selling my goods," she beamed.

Raela looked between her and the sack, calculating. Hemorra had been hoping for a return smile or some sign of pride in her job well done, but all she received was a curt nod and a, "Keep it close--we're not the only ones out to steal."

Hemorra faltered for a split second before she returned the nod, tying the sack to her waist, pulling her shirt over it.

"Can we stay and see the other events when the musicians are done," she asked her sister as they both waited.

Raela didn't even look at her, only shook her head as she studied the people around them. "No. You know what could happen if we stay to long."

Hemorra pouted to herself. "Fine."

Raela released a long breath through her nose. "You can stay if you want, but I'm not staying. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Hemorra smiled. She was fine with that. She didn't think it would mean any trouble for her. After all, it was like her sister said, she was just dancing, not actually stealing. She wished her sister could stay with her and they could enjoy the festival together, but that was a battle for another day. For now, she would take whatever victory she could.

It wasn't long before the musicians started up, and Hemorra eagerly took her place among the other dancers.

~*~

Ylvir smiled when he caught the flash of red hair, beaming when the other dancers parted slightly so he could better see her from the stage he and the other musicians had assembled on, set up for the festival and all its performances.

Unlike their other performances, the Guild had actually practiced quite a bit for the festival. They were all eager to top the other guilds and their subsequent events as there was a reward in it for them. Ylvir practiced for a different reason, though. He practiced for her, the dancing beauty.

When the music started with its appropriately festive upbeat, Ylvir joined quickly for his part, his gloved fingers gliding over his whistle with practiced speed and precision, intertwining the notes with the others and adding an extra flare to the girl's dance.

There it was again. That feeling he had something unique and precious in their interactions. And since he knew his own tune so well this time, he could fully appreciate the way she made it even better. It was practically made for her, and her alone, and it certainly showed.

Ylvir put everything he had into that song, just to see her do the same with her dance. It was an almost unspoken agreement between them, and it created something lovely and magical in consequence.

All too soon the song came, to its close, but this time, he had made the ending of the song special. It was not just an end, a goodbye. Instead, it was a promise--a promise of another song, and another dance.

The large crowd cheered and clapped at their performance, and Ylvir's chest and heart pumped in his effort and anxiety. It had been worth it, though. He knew that as he looked over the self-congratulating musicians and smiling crowd--

Wait.

She was still there.

Ylvir had to blink a couple of times to ensure it wasn't just a brief, flighty vision. But no, there she was. The dancer with the wild red hair clapped sincerely with the rest of the crowd, sweat bearing her brow, but doing nothing to diminish her radiance.

Ylvir was afraid to look away and lose sight of her as he was directed offstage with his fellow musicians to make way for the next performers, but did so anyway, overjoyed when he looked back and could still see her there in the same place, watching the stage in anticipation.

With a sudden burst of courage he didn't know he had, Ylvir began making his way to her, bubbling with excitement. Perhaps he could speak to her now.

But those thoughts were just as quickly dashed away as they had appeared when a burly man from the crowd shoved his way to her, bellowing loudly and grabbing the girl roughly by her wild locks, fisting them tightly in a meaty hand, repeating one word.

"Witch! Witch! Witch!"

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I feel like there's no proper way to type a cackle. There's nothing that would really do it justice. But just so you know, mine sounds a little like this:

"Ahahahaheehehekhkhkkk!"

Don't worry, though. This little cliffhanger is all part of my plan. A plan which may or may not be "morally ambiguous", as I prefer to call it. No need for the "E"-word here. That's for the next chapter ;)