The morning came far too early.
Outside, the sky had not yet decided to brighten. Darkness still clung stubbornly to the streets, thinning only slightly at the edges, as if dawn itself was hesitating to arrive. The lamps along the road burned faintly, their light dull and tired, doing little to chase away the night.
Most of the shops remained closed, their wooden shutters firmly shut, doors barred as if still asleep. Only a few stalls could be spotted here and there—isolated points of life in an otherwise silent street. Thin smoke rose lazily from one or two chimneys, proof that someone, somewhere, was already awake.
The air was cold. Sharp enough to sting the skin, sharp enough to sneak into sleeves and collars without mercy. Each breath came out faintly white, lingering for a moment before vanishing. It carried a quiet message, one that needed no words.
Winter was coming.
A small street stall stood at the corner, one of the few places awake at this unreasonable hour. A battered pot simmered quietly, steam rising in thin, hopeful wisps. Beside it, baskets of bread were stacked and covered with cloth, guarded by a vendor who looked far too alert for the time of day.
The first person arrived cautiously.
He stopped a short distance away, glanced left, glanced right, then pulled his scarf higher until only his eyes were visible. Satisfied that no one familiar was nearby, he stepped forward.
"One bread. One soup," he said, lowering his voice.
The vendor raised an eyebrow but said nothing, scooping soup into a bowl and handing it over. The boy took it quickly and moved to the side of the stall, turning his back as if the wooden wall itself could shield him from recognition.
Just as he relaxed—
Footsteps.
The second person arrived. A girl this time, similarly bundled, her hood pulled low. She didn't even look around. She walked straight up to the stall.
"One bread. One soup," she said.
The first boy froze.
That voice…
He frowned behind his scarf, staring very hard into his bowl as if the soup might offer answers. Didn't I hear that voice yesterday? No. Impossible. Too early for nonsense.
Then came the third.
Another girl. Same cautious steps. Same exaggerated casualness.
"One bread. One soup, please."
The first boy stiffened. The second girl paused mid-reach for her bowl.
Both of them thought the same thing.
…Now hold on.
The fourth arrived not even a minute later. Then the fifth. Then the sixth.
Each one tried to look inconspicuous. Each one covered their face a little too much. Each one ordered—
"One bread. One soup."
By the time the last order was placed, six figures stood awkwardly around the stall, steam drifting between them, all pretending very hard that the others did not exist.
Silence stretched.
The vendor slowly looked from one to the next. Two boys. Four girls. All early teens. All bundled up. All are eating the exact same breakfast.
"…Cold morning," he said flatly.
"Very," six voices replied at once.
Every head snapped up.
Eyes met. Recognition struck.
And in that brief, dreadful moment, every single one of them realized the truth.
They had all tried to sneak out. They had all had the same idea. And they had all failed spectacularly.
Winter wasn't the only thing coming.
The first to arrive was Rowan, fifteen years old.
He stood slightly apart from the stall, shoulders hunched, scarf pulled up to his nose like it was a shield against both the cold and destiny itself. Dark hair peeked out messily from beneath his hood, and his eyes kept darting around far more than necessary. He held his bowl as if it were precious cargo. Quiet. Careful. Very convinced he was being subtle.
The second was Mira, also fifteen.
She arrived with steady steps and a composed posture, her hood drawn low but not enough to hide her sharp eyes. Unlike Rowan, she didn't fidget. She simply stood there, sipping her soup calmly—until she heard a familiar breathing pattern behind a scarf. Practical by nature, but currently questioning her life choices.
Third came Liora, fourteen.
She hesitated before approaching the stall, fingers gripping the edge of her cloak. Pale hair slipped free near her cheeks, and her voice was soft when she ordered. Too soft. The moment she stepped aside and heard Mira's spoon clink, her shoulders stiffened. Gentle, observant, and now painfully aware she was not alone.
The fourth arrival was Elias, fourteen, and unmistakably nervous.
He adjusted his collar three times before speaking, eyes fixed on the pot of soup like it was the only safe thing in the world. His hair was neatly combed, ruined only by the wind. When he turned and accidentally made eye contact with Rowan, both of them immediately looked away in perfect synchronization. Earnest. Hopeless at pretending.
Next was Selene, thirteen.
The youngest of the group, and the worst at hiding it. Her scarf was wrapped far too high, her eyes far too expressive. The moment she heard Elias's voice, her lips twitched. She recognized it instantly—and nearly laughed into her bowl. Quick-witted, sharp, and enjoying this far more than she should.
Finally came Tessa, fifteen.
She walked up like she belonged there, chin raised, posture confident. Her coat was neatly fastened, her hair tied back cleanly. She ordered without hesitation, then paused. Slowly. Very slowly. Her gaze swept across the gathered group. A sigh escaped her nose. Confident, composed… and absolutely done with this situation.
Six bowls of soup.Six pieces of bread.Two boys. Four girls.All early teens.
All pretending they hadn't planned this exact breakfast in complete secrecy.
And all of them knowing—This was going to come up again.
Silence hung thick between them, broken only by the soft slosh of soup and the occasional crunch of bread. Steam drifted upward, fogging the space between their faces like a fragile barrier none of them dared to cross.
Selene lasted exactly five seconds.
Her shoulders started to shake.
Rowan noticed first. He stiffened, eyes narrowing over the rim of his bowl. Mira followed, then Liora. Elias froze mid-sip.
"Don't," Selene muttered to herself, biting the inside of her cheek.
It didn't help.
A snort escaped her.
Everyone flinched.
"I— I'm sorry," she said quickly, covering her mouth, eyes sparkling far too much for someone who was supposed to be embarrassed. "It's just—"
She gestured vaguely at all of them.
"…really?"
Tessa closed her eyes. Slowly. Like someone accepting fate.
Mira exhaled through her nose. "So," she said flatly, "we all decided to sneak out."
"No," Elias said too fast. "I mean— yes—but independently."
Rowan nodded. Immediately. Too eagerly. "Independently."
Liora tilted her head. "And we all chose… the same stall."
Another pause.
"…It's close," Rowan offered weakly.
"And cheap," Mira added.
"And warm," Elias said, lifting his bowl slightly as if presenting evidence.
Selene grinned. "And clearly very secret."
That did it.
Mira shot her a look. "You recognized us, too, didn't you?"
Selene shrugged. "Around the third voice, yeah."
"Third?" Rowan echoed.
Liora looked away, cheeks faintly pink. "I knew at the second."
Elias stared at his soup. "…I knew at the first."
All eyes turned to him.
"You what?" Tessa asked.
He sank a little. "Your footsteps sound the same."
Another beat.
Selene burst out laughing properly this time, nearly spilling her soup. Rowan groaned and pulled his scarf even higher, which should not have been possible.
Tessa shook her head, lips twitching despite herself. "Unbelievable."
Someone finally spoke.
"So," Rowan said, staring very hard at his bread, "you're all… coming for the early classes?"
For half a heartbeat, no one answered.
Then—
Six nods.
Slow.Small.Unmistakably guilty.
"…Right," Rowan muttered.
The early classes.
They were meant for those who couldn't yet read or write properly. A quiet, temporary measure so no one would fall behind once the main lessons began. A chance to catch up before things became difficult.
Mira cleared her throat. "It's… so we don't slow everyone else down later."
"And so we don't embarrass ourselves later," Selene added cheerfully, then winced. "I mean— more later."
Elias's ears turned red. "Because of us," he said, a little too sincerely, "the schedule had to change."
That landed heavily.
Liora hugged her bowl closer. "The etiquette and language classes were supposed to start first."
"Language first," Tessa corrected quietly. "Then etiquette."
Rowan nodded. "But now it's switched."
No one smiled.
The etiquette class would happen first instead. The language class would be pushed back. Not because of preference—but because the teacher had already been summoned.
From the capital.
"…They had to leave early," Elias said, voice small. "It'll take about a week for them to reach Eddleguard."
A full week.Just for them.
Selene poked her bread. "At least… others can take books back to the dormitory."
"Yes," Mira said. "They're allowed."
"…We're not," Rowan finished.
Silence again.
Six teenagers standing around a stall in the freezing dark, realizing—very clearly—that an entire schedule had bent slightly out of shape because of them.
Tessa sighed. "We're really making a great first impression."
Elias nodded too fast. "A very memorable one."
Liora mumbled, "I wish I had slept in."
Selene looked around at their miserable faces, then snorted softly. "Well," she said, "on the bright side…"
They all looked at her.
"…At least we're embarrassing ourselves together."
No one argued.
Six bowls were emptied. Six pieces of bread disappeared.
And without saying it out loud, they all accepted the truth.
They were already late. They were already noticed. And the early classes hadn't even begun yet.
By the time they finished, the stall had grown quieter again. The vendor was already wiping down the counter, steam thinning as the pot settled.
One by one, they stepped away from the warmth. No more pretending now. No more hiding behind scarves or lowered hoods. They fell into an awkward line without discussion, boots crunching softly against the cold street.
The sky was still dim, but it had begun to change. Darkness loosened its grip, just a little, as if morning was finally willing to acknowledge them.
None of them spoke. There was nothing left to explain.
They were heading to the same place.For the same reason.Because they had all been afraid of falling behind.
It was embarrassing. Uncomfortable. And quietly reassuring all at once.
Winter was coming.Lessons were coming.And the first bell had not yet rung.
But for the first time that morning, none of them was walking alone.