The borders between towns were never safe places. Trapped in a culture of "everything for me," the people who roam the roads won't lend a hand to anyone; even if money is offered, they'll usually take it only to steal the rest. The idyllic notion of peasants farming small plots on the plains or in the forests—a dream so often preached by the cities to push their overcrowded populations to migrate—was a lesson two poor teenagers learned the hard way. Every hand that reached for them, every barking dog, every shout chasing them as they fled from beds of straw before those who sold them the space could sell them again to slavers. It was a slow, torturous journey. Sometimes they were caught, and then they would endure a night or a week of fear, suffering, and humiliation. Eventually, they would find a gap in their captors' defenses and escape once more, driven by a single objective: a place they had to reach—Midnight Crow.
Their feet were not bare in the frozen mud of the first cold months. Despite all the abuses committed, none of their captors wanted to sell their clothes or boots; they were cheap, but more importantly, no one wanted to spoil the potential merchandise. Both were thin—the girl, Thris, thirteen summers old, and Puck, twelve. Their teeth weren't yellow; their hair wasn't a matted mess despite being washed hundreds of times only with river water. Their captors always saw a fortune in them, but they escaped.
Upon arriving at the village, it wasn't hard to find work. She worked in a small inn, opened due to the influx of mercenaries in the town. No one knew why, but the rewards coming from the Blackcloak guild and the possibility of being recruited into the High Elven army without traveling to Stormhammer City had increased the once-nonexistent flow of visitors to these desolate parts. So, she was forced to carry drinks in the small parlor, to smile tensely when a drunk mercenary, lacking any local prostitutes, made advances toward her—with money or by force. She knew the cold sweat that ran down her back when the owner, with a laugh, told her to take food up to the guests; she knew that when he sent her (because there was no room service), it was because he had already collected his coin. Many of them, however, only sought company—someone to drink with and laugh at their stupid anecdotes and terrible jokes. Some didn't want that. She remembered those. She would go down to her room in the stables at night, curling up to forget. Whenever she looked into her younger brother's eyes, his gaze was often sadder than her own. Puck had it worse.
Finding work in Midnight Crow is easy if you have muscle. Thin and effeminate, Puck had none. He struggled to lift hay bales or beams; even small stones were a challenge. But in that town, there was always work, even for those without strength. "The House of the Pink Enchantment," founded after the Blackcloaks arrived, was a place where more slave traders made their sales before heading to the coastal cities. That was where Puck worked, washing the slaves before and after they were "tested," tending to their wounds, and applying makeup to make them appealing to the visitors.
However, like his sister, there were times when they didn't want a malnourished, wiry peasant, but someone soft to vent their passions upon. These events happened frequently. So, even when she wanted to share her own suffering, she remained silent upon seeing him. He didn't sleep; he only huddled in a corner, his blanket covering everything but his eyes. Thris would simply place a bowl of kitchen scraps in front of him and fall asleep. When she woke, the food would be gone and he would be outside, bathing in a stream in the cold of the first snows, desperate to wash away as much filth as he could. In those moments, she would run out and wrap him in her arms until he stopped shaking. Then she would tuck him in and head to work. The drunks weren't awake yet, but the arriving travelers were, as were the ladies who had survived the night of excess with their guests. They needed food and a bath; usually, they only took one of the two. The nights are long, and adventurers go months with no company but their mounts.
The two traveled with a mission. Both had lost their parents; they were siblings only because they were the only ones of similar age in their village. Their goal was vital, which is why they had left their people, and why they endured the life they led day after day. When they could talk, they limited themselves to listening to the sounds of dawn. Neither had any interest in repeating their mission to the other; they knew it all too well. Moreover, they feared someone might overhear them, so they remained like that—close without touching, holding their weary hearts in each other's breath, giving each other courage as they saw one another day after day, just to keep going, to not flee, to stand up once more.
Two months after their arrival, their luck changed. That night, Puck did not return to sleep. Thris worried, but not overly so; it wasn't the first time. The brothel's patrons sometimes spent days partying and he was forbidden from leaving. He had to attend to everyone and, on several occasions, tend to some man or woman who had been used too harshly and required medical attention. However, there was an unusual number of visitors, so she couldn't find the time to look for him. One day passed, then two. By the time the week drew to a close, she was determined to track him down.
When she reached her room that night, she found scraps of cloth at the entrance. Upon entering, she saw him lying on the straw. There was a little heap of Puck, sobbing inconsolably. He was naked, covered only by a tattered cloak. Beneath it: bruises, burns, fluids of many origins. Seeing him like that was horrific, yet he wept with a smile on his lips. Fearing his sanity had finally snapped, Thris stripped off her clothes and his. She dragged him to the stream, and they submerged themselves. The cold bit—terrible, cruel—stripping away the freshest memories, all the pain, so much so that it seemed comparable to seeing their dead parents.
The snow in Midnight Crow is whiter than in most places. Its people are not used to large bonfires, so when a snowflake surprised her, she realized she had stayed in the middle of a frozen river for too long. Dragging Puck back to their temporary home, she lit a small fire and began to warm their dinner. He lay there; he had stopped laughing hysterically and now only wore a trace of a smile. When the food was hot—an oat porridge—she brought the bowl to him and tried to pull the tattered cloak from his hands. He looked at her for the first time since she found him.
In his eyes, there was happiness. With clumsy movements, he unwrapped the cloak. Inside was a note and a small pouch. The pouch contained a silver piece and several copper ones. The letter said he had been accepted to work at the Blackcloak mages' headquarters as a servant for a level 6 mage, and that he could bring his sister to work in the kitchen. Thris was speechless, her hands trembling as she held the recommendation to the light, though she didn't need to. It was all there, including the seal of the headquarters. Then she heard Puck speak:
"They arrived last night. The Blackcloaks celebrated for days and days, but their invasion group just returned. It's her, sister. They captured her just like he told us it would happen. She is covered in ice and surrounded by protections. Sister Lilith didn't lie to us! All this time, we traveled for the right reason."
She ran and hugged him again. His skin had fought the cold for so long, and his entire body had suffered unspeakable abuse; he was exhausted. She stroked his wavy hair and his horns—small, like those of a young goat. She tucked him in so the thick hair on his legs wouldn't show. The light of the fire didn't matter; its reddish glow gave them warmth and colored everything in such a way that no one would notice the deep red tone of their skin. Finally, Puck fell asleep, and she prepared to cast "Enchant"—one of the few spells she possessed. The only one that allowed an incubus and a succubus to survive in that city. With a bit of luck, it would also help them free their leader.