The man watches the girl run off into the crowds. Despite her usually serious nature, she is unable to contain her excitement at the prospect of the markets and all the people. The walls of a city are far more familiar to her than the wilds, he supposes. He doesn’t know much about her life before he found her on that road. There’s an air of finery around her, despite her savage temper and rough tongue. If she didn’t grow up in a manor house or castle, then she grew up in the shadow of one. This must be a relief to her, he thinks, after all those weeks in the country. She smiles as a merchant measures out scoops of powerful-smelling, colourful spices to a bickering customer. The man keeps his distance. He lets her wander from stall to stall, listening to conversations and admiring the goods, both luxury and mundane, without his shadow looming over her. Let her forget, for a while, that he is even here. That any of this has happened. Let her pretend, for a moment, she is back home. She does her best to play the adult when he’s around. It must be tiresome. The childish smile on her face cracks the road dust dried on her cheek.
Paddy Dobson
12th April 2022