Play of Shadows

3.02: Strings Attached

Fairy lights glittered above a lively market. They danced to the tune of the crowd, sparkling with vigor wherever song and laughter were found. The sky was deep indigo that bloomed plum over the horizon. It hung over the city in satin layers, untouched by the lanterns throwing shadows against cobbled paths and wooden walls.

Ann observed the merry madness from a quiet little nook behind a stall selling wicker baskets and straw hats and all kinds of woven goods. It was not a popular place, but the stall owner didn't seem to mind the lack of customers. He dozed at the counter, long gray ears flopped over his face like a makeshift eye mask. He didn't as much as twitch when Ann ducked behind his shop.

A group of children ran past, shouting. Two were sporting matching bushy tails. The third shrieked with a magpie's beak, possibly in laughter. Ann looked after them in a daze. She turned her eyes to the rabbit-man sleeping in a nest of straw and willow branches in his stall, then up to the heavy, starless sky.

A flicker of motion in one of the balconies hanging over the street had Ann swiftly bowing her head. She slipped out of her hiding spot and into the crowd, skin prickling with unease.

The street was impossibly crowded. Ann made for a strange sight in her VR suit and mask, but her dress was far from the most ostentatious one on display. The few curious glances thrown her way held no weight. Still, Ann dared not lower her guard. Something chased her from the river bank into town. She felt eyes on her from the moment she set foot onto solid ground, and felt hunted.

Shop owners called out their wares. Ann wove through hawkers and haggling patrons, minding her feet and the very many stray tails lashing into her path. She still managed to trip over a rotund little granny that turned out to be a badger in a woman's dress. The badger tumbled clear out of its scruffy skirts on impact. It dashed away before Ann could apologize, leaving behind a trail of shiny objects. Ann made out glass beads and polished buttons among the spoils that struck the pavement like hail. A plate-like object rolled her way and she instinctively stretched out a foot to stop its momentum.

"Thief!" a man warbled. He had a human face and jewel-colored feathers instead of hair, which stood straight up when he shouted.

Ann barely heard him. Her eyes were on the soul disk lying at her feet, its sides dented, the crystal center cracked and dim.

The crowd parted. Ann reacted quickly despite her shock, slipping among the curious bystanders as the scene of the incident rapidly cleared. The discarded dress and the shiny baubles caught in ridges between uneven cobblestone lay where they had fallen, undisturbed.

"Such nice things," a woman sporting antlers chittered to her friend.

"The buttons are especially fetching," her friend hissed. "Whereabout, do you suppose, could their likeliness be found?"

"A storyworld, no doubt," the woman asserted.

The woman's friend swayed her serpentine body to and fro in agitation. "Brave little thief. It's not worth the risk, if you ask me."

"Brave? Simple, I would say. Programmed for mischief and nothing else," the woman with the antlers harrumphed.

"Do you suppose its world collapsed?" the friend asked.

The antlers shook, setting the leaves growing upon them in a rustle. "Most surely. It would never make it here otherwise. Even the outer bank is too good for its kind!"

"Poor thing," the serpent hissed, ignoring her friend's disdainful words. "My neighbor, you know – when his world collapsed, he went a little strange. Took to haunting the cellar. Gave me a right fright the first time I saw him hanging from the ceiling!"