[Yenna] He stole more than food from me.
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[Yenna’s POV, NOT in the book]
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I’m still half smiling as I slide open the door into our garden kitchen. My cheeks are warm, and not just from the humid heat rolling off the spring at the center of the room. Reed.
Even though the red-haired vagabond has been coming here for years, it was always sporadic, maybe once or twice a month. One time, when the leader of the Wardens, the obnoxious Golden Lance, was on a manhunt for the Dark Star, I didn’t see him for a whole season. Of course, we didn’t see many travelers during that time. But this last week, Reed has visited every single day. And not just to buy food, but to sit with me, just me.
I can still hear how gentle his voice was when he sang to me yesterday. I remember the day before, as he told me a story about the Arbiter’s greatest tracker, the Huntress, catching a Resonance-level Myth who’d robbed an Outgarden, all on her own. And today, he shared poetry and called me beautiful. Reed makes me feel seen, like I’m a real person, not just the girl who cooks and serves food beside her father.
Just as I turn to look back at Reed sitting at the bar behind me, sand shifts to my left. My head snaps up, eyes wide. Two amber eyes stare right at me. What’s he doing here? With heavy breaths, he looks even worse than when I saw him outside.
He must have broken in through the back. I swallow a gasp, not wanting to set him off. He’s a thief. I open my mouth to scream for my father and Reed, but he lunges forward, clamping his hand over my mouth and spinning me around. His foot shoves the door shut with a loud thud. Light bursts from his other hand. An orange flame burns inches from my face. An Ignarus? I wince from the heat and jerk to get away, but he squeezes tighter. A strand of my hair drifts into the flame and curls to ash. Bitter smoke rises into the humid air. I look back at him. Why are you doing this? I was kind to you on the porch.
“Yenna, come on! Stop slamming doors!” My father shouts from inside the shop.
“Stay quiet,” he whispers. “I’m here for the food–” He pauses. “And medicine. Do you have it?”
I stop fighting and shake my head. Medicine is far too expensive for my father to afford, selling bowls of noodles in the desert.
“Of course you don’t,” he mutters under his breath as if blaming me for not having exactly what he needs. I tremble beneath his hand, my gaze flicking between the flame in front of my face and his eyes. Please don’t hurt me.
Inside the shop, footsteps creak toward us. “Yenna?” My father calls again, his voice sharper now. “Get moving! I need you upfront. Bronze Lagan is here.”
Bronze Lagan! His body goes rigid against me as the front door to the shop opens and the unmistakable sound that every Myth dreads slips through the cracks in the wall: Clink. Clink. Tap.
Thank God. It’s a Grafter.
(continue the story in chapters 1-3 of The First Stone)
—
You may ask Yenna one of these questions:
The stranger seemed desperate for food and medicine, not money. Did part of you want to help him?
Why did your dad set up a noodle shop in the middle of the desert?
Why do you think Reed keeps coming back after all these years?
Reply with only 1, 2, or 3, and she’ll answer when she can. The shop has been especially busy as of late.
~Robert
P.S. If you want to see the post that this continues from, watch it here. It has music and sound effects, by the way ;)
Disclaimer: this is a copy of the newsletter. Actual subscribers get all the prizes, votes, and exclusives.
