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Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Fantasy · #2267024
A young halfling searches the rubble of her past
Remnants


Skrie stared at the rubble that was left of the tavern. Weeks had passed since the fire had destroyed the Jaunty Traveler, her parents' inn at the edge of the halfling quarter. The young hin hadn't been able to approach the wreckage until now. Every time she thought about going, her guts knotted, and she raced to the nearest outhouse.

Having begun to get closure with the death of one of those responsible, Skrie steeled herself and began picking through the ruins. Orienting herself in the debris, she found where her parents had stood when the mercenary threw the oil flask. Stirring the ash with her foot, she found a tiny bone, slightly larger than one of her finger joints. Lying next to it was a lump of metal, the melted remains of her father's Tavern Guild medallion. Skrie used the hem of her shirt to wipe the worst of the grime from the objects, then slipped them into her belt pouch.

Turning toward where the bar had been, she searched for other remnants of her fractured childhood. Most of what she found was barely recognizable, except for the handle from her father's favorite ale mug. She cleaned that, and it went with the rest of her treasures.

"OI!" a shout startled the halfling. "What ye be doin' thar?"

Turning, Skrie saw a city guardsman stalking toward her.

"I used to live here," she said, choking out the words.

"Ah," the man softened a bit. "I heard one o' the littles survived. Must'a been you. Still, I canna let yer poke around. 'T'aint safe, they tells me." The man flipped her a silver piece as she emerged from the pit. "Get'cher self summit ta eat," he said, walking away.


"Me thanks, sir," she said to his back.

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