Riley stood in front of the gate while the sun hung low in the sky, ready to start fading behind the trees. The journey had left her sore, thirsty, hungry and exhausted, and now she was forced to summon confidence from what little remained within her. The thought of stepping into a real settlement felt dreamlike, almost unreal after the isolation of the tower.

  Before she could speak, the guard standing in front of her squared himself in the dirt, staking his claim to the ground and all that lay beyond. He stood there slightly squinting. He had a square jaw, cropped hair and a plain leather vest that suggested he did this job often and took it seriously.

  The dog backed up and suddenly turn and bolted into the forest.

  “Gates are locking down for the day,” he said. His voice had a firm but not unfriendly tone. “What is your business here so late in the day?”

  Riley momentarily distracted and concerned by the dog’s last-minute decision to take off, turned back towards the guard and said “I want to shop the market.”

  Matter-of-factly, the guard told her “Market is closed. Come back tomorrow.”

  “I can’t.” Riley shifted her weight and the bucket hanging from the stick dipped slightly. She steadied it before it fell of the end of the branch it hung on. “I need to get inside.”

  The guard paused and looked her and her strange assortment of travel gear. His eyes paused at her improvised carrying yoke and the helmet that now held much less wheat than she had started with. He raised a brow. “What kind of traveler walks this far without a proper pack?”

  She should have expected that. She should have had an answer prepared because she had spent the whole day rehearsing possible explanations. Yet the question stumped her. Her mouth opened and closed as she looked for the right way to phrase herself without revealing anything important. Her mind kept circling around the danger of saying too much.

  The guard watched her struggle and tilted his head in quiet curiosity. “Where do you hail from?”

  Riley knew the answer to this one. She had practiced the answer but somehow her script scattered when she reached for it.

  She finally managed, “I am a…”

  She stopped again. Sharing too much felt dangerous. Sharing nothing sounded suspicious.

  She tried again. “I am traveling from far away.”

  The guard made a thoughtful sound and nodded. “Ah. One of those northerners.” He stepped back and pushed the gate wider. “Well, come inside and get yourself sorted. My name is Severus.”

  He smiled at her with genuine warmth. Before he could say anything else, Riley stepped past him and muttered a quick “Thanks, Severus.” She did not want to encourage conversation. She was here to gather supplies and information, not to make new friends.

  Once she passed through the gate, the village unfolded in a way that hit her almost too fast to process. Rivermark felt alive in a way that the silent wilderness around her never had. Even with the day ending, people moved across the street with baskets, crates and tools. Horse drawn carts stood ready for departure. Children were being ushered indoors. Older residents called goodbyes to each other as they closed shutters or secured doors.

  The main road unfurled broad and worn, curving gently toward the heart of the town. Narrower lanes branched away, threading into the town that stretched beyond the gate, toward an existence still veiled from her. Permanent wooden buildings lined the road’s edges. Farther ahead she could see rows of tables under cloth canopies, the remains of a marketplace now dim in the evening light. It looked almost exactly as she had imagined it.

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  Riley tried to take everything in without staring too long at anyone or anything. Luckily that’s what years of riding the subway had taught her how to do well.

  She didn’t want to call attention to herself. She wanted to blend into the background. Standing out felt dangerous. She could not risk someone asking too many questions.

  The aroma of smoke, cooked food and something sweet hung in the air and she breathed it in as though she had forgotten scents like that even existed.

  A cart stood ahead of her with an attendant packing away crates. The handwritten sign propped beside him read “hot and cold tea”.

  She had heard the guard speak English but it wasn’t until she saw that sign did she really appreciate the fact that she could at least deal with people in a language she knew.

  The man looked up as she slowed to a stop. He was perhaps in his thirties with tired eyes and sleeves rolled to his elbows.

  “Good day, traveler,” he said. “I do not think we have met. I am Tarin. I am closing for the day.”

  Riley stopped as if someone had grabbed her shoulders. Tea. Real tea. After days of boiled water, tea sounded wonderful. It wasn’t a can of soda, but it reminded her of mornings at home.

  She took a step closer. “Please. I have been traveling all day. Can I have a tea?”

  Tarin studied her for a moment. His expression softened in a way she recognized from customer service workers who faced tired people often. “You can, but I am nearly packed and once I leave I must go straight home. You will need to finish it quickly.”

  He poured the last bit of the day’s brew into a small clay mug. It wasn’t hot. It was lukewarm. But Riley did not care. She brought the mug to her face with both hands and paused, letting the scent roll through her senses.

  She felt the tug of an old memory. Sitting by the living room window while cold November rain tapped against the glass. Wrapped in a blanket. Warm mug in her hands. Her mother nearby humming something soft.

  Warmth flooded her throat when she took the first sip. The flavor swept away nearly a week of bland eating. Her stomach reacted with a grateful glow that almost brought tears to her eyes.

  “That will be one copper,” Tarin said gently.

  Riley blinked and opened her eyes, taken abruptly from the memory. She fumbled for her coins, embarrassed that she had forgotten she needed to pay.

  “Right. Yes.” She handed over the coin and Tarin slipped it into a small pouch at his hip. He had already resumed packing and seemed eager to finish before full nightfall.

  He paused long enough to ask, “Do you have a place to stay for the night.”

  Riley shook her head. “What would you suggest?”

  “That depends on how much coin you want to part with. This is not high season, so a nicer room at an inn will cost you about one silver.”

  Her face must have betrayed her because Tarin gave a sympathetic smile that said he understood exactly what that expression meant.

  “Or there is the bunk house,” he added. “It is about one or two copper for a bed, although you will be sharing a room with twenty others.”

  Riley was conflicted. She had hoped for something affordable but sleeping with a bunch of strangers in her condition didn’t seem wise. Tarin seemed to sense her hesitation with that too.

  “It’s illegal to sleep in the streets here in case that’s what you’re thinking,” Tarin continued, stacking the last crate with a thump. “And the forest is not safe at night this time of year. If I were you, I would look four doors down. The building is a little worn, but it is safe and clean. Ressa’s Rest. Hard to miss. Now finish your tea. I have to get home.”

  He collected the mug after she drained the last drop and hurried off, his cart creaking behind him.

  Riley stood for a moment in the quiet that followed his departure. Most of the villagers had already slipped indoors or into nearby buildings. The earlier noise of conversations and footsteps had faded. She felt strangely adrift standing alone in a place full of people.

  She walked slowly along the road, her eyes on the lanterns hanging from doorframes. Her coins seemed too few for everything that she needed.

  She stopped at the fourth door down. The building looked old but respectable. A simple wooden sign hung above the entrance with the words “Ressa’s Rest” painted in faded green letters.

  “Fancy,” she muttered, eyeing the worn door frame. “I wonder if the presidential suite is available.”

  Riley could start to smell the faint aroma of dinners being cooked and served. Riley's stomach cried out in agony, she longed for a solid super with all the trimmings, but in reality, her stomach probably couldn't handle a big meal after having shrunk from malnutrition since getting here.

  She placed her hand on the doorknob and pushed gently. "They may not have free WiFi but hopefully they at least have a free meal!"

  The door creaked open into the dim evening interior.

  It had been a long day, and whatever tomorrow’s market might bring, tonight she would sleep.