Across the alley from the orphanage there was an old,
rickety house. Its second floor had long since been abandoned, and the stairs
to it collapsed. There were still people occupying the first floor, although
what sort of people it was hard to imagine.
The top corner of the second story wall was missing, and through it
could be seen a birds nest, fit snugly between a crossbeam and the bricks.
After being moved to one of the rooms for older children in the orphanage, it
hadn't taken long for Alys to discover it, looking out from her window. It had
been February, and Alys had just turned ten. When she discovered it, the nest
had been empty. Alys had hoped the birds were simply out foraging for food, but
no birds returned that day. Or the next. Or for a long time. Over the course of
the next few months, Alys had slowly come to the realization that the nest was
as abandoned as the house's second floor. Still, every once in a while, she
would sneak a peek at it before she was sent to bed.
One evening, some time in May, she had checked it
again. At first, another piece of what hope she had left had been chipped away
when she saw that the nest was still empty. But then, just as she was about to
turn and head for bed, a bird had swooped down, beat its wings rapidly to slow
down and manoeuvre into the hole left by the missing wall, and settled in the
nest. It had a greyish brown head, with black streaks running downwards from
its eyes, a white and brown striped front, and a reddish brown back and wings.
Its beak was curved, and on its feet were talons.
From then on she had spent much of her evenings
sitting by the window, monitoring the nest and trying to catch any glimpse she
could of the house's new feathery occupants. She was proud and excited about
her discovery, but she told no one. If any of the other children had found out,
it wouldn't have been long before some boy had made it his life's mission to
throw stones at the nest until he had knocked it down. She had seen the bird be
joined by another in the nest. She had witnessed the appearance of eggs, and
later, chicks. She had seen one of the adult birds bring food for both the
other bird and their young. And finally, she had seen the young birds fledge
and leave the nest. This had been in August.
Then the nest had been empty again. It had remained
empty for many months, and Alys had hoped with all her heart that the birds
would return again. And in May, when Alys was eleven, they did. Alys witnessed
the fledging of another set of chicks. And in her dreams, the chicks flew out
into the world and became great birds, that found plenty of food and lived
long, free, happy lives. Again the nest had been emptied. This time Alys
anticipated their arrival in May, when she was twelve. Every time the birds
disappeared, Alys was afraid that they would not return. Much could happen in
the many months that they were gone, and the world can be a dangerous place,
even for a winged predator. Every time the birds returned Alys felt profoundly
happy, a feeling that was hard to find elsewhere in her life. The birds had
gone again, and then returned, in May, and Alys was thirteen.
The orphanage Alys had been living in the past eight
years had no name. It was simply referred to as 'the orphanage' within the
neighbourhood, outside of which no one cared. It was run, and had always been
run, by the old widow Mrs. Fields. Her husband had been a mercenary who died in
the service of his faction. His rank had been high enough for the faction to
keep paying his allowance to his household after passing. They had no children,
and Mrs. Fields established the orphanage in their old home, spending all of
her allowance towards helping the children who had no one.
Considering this, the orphanage was one of the better
ones in Ymra, although the children there had no way of knowing this. There
were other orphanages with agendas much darker than anyone would like to admit
– at least Mrs. Fields intentions were good. However, the mercenary allowance
only went so far, and there were too many orphans on the Ymran streets.
Sometimes they received donations from grocers, but not enough. Regularly they
scavenged food from the street, picked whatever leftovers weren't saved in the
tavern from the waste bin in the back alley. There was always someone sick – as
soon as one got better, another fell ill. Sometimes they didn't get better.
The orphanage only housed children until they turned
fourteen. Past that they had to find somewhere else to turn. Mrs. Fields tried
to arrange apprenticeships with craftsmen and merchants for as many as
possible, sometimes making arrangements far outside the neighbourhood. However,
should you receive an apprenticeship, you were considered one of the lucky ones.
A few orphans, only girls, got to stay beyond fourteen, helping Mrs. Fields
with the other children. They stayed until they were taken away by a husband,
better work, or the cherrydust high.
Alys was a healthy looking thirteen year old.
Considering her situation, she looked almost strangely fit. She had hints of
muscle, and hadn't had more than a runny nose in years. Her hair was chest-long
and smooth; plain brown. Often frowning, either from concentration or mood, her
eyebrows were thin and expressive, as were her large, brown eyes.
She could only just still remember her mother. At
least, that's what she told herself. She could remember her dark hair, although
she wasn't sure whether it was a real memory or simply her memory of taking
note to remember. She imagined she could remember her nice smell, but this too
was hazy, and it was more the remembrance of the fact that she had smelled nice
than the remembrance of the smell itself. All in all, the memories of her
mother were fading, and she was helpless to stop it. It made her sad, and
confused, and angry.
Given all the circumstances of her life, Alys should
have looked a lot different, felt a lot different. However, there was one thing
that changed things.
Some nights, there would be a tap on the window. Alys
would sneak out from under her covers, dressed not in her nightgown, but in
leather and wool which she kept under her mattress. She would flash a rare
smile as she saw the hooded figure on the other side of the window. The hooded
figure would help her out and up to the roof, where she would be handed a bag
to carry. And then they would go and see the big bird from which the hooded
figure had gotten its name: Osprey.
