Letters to Rilamir - Mirenne Swift

[Rynkles]

Dear Ril,

Finally found some ink and paper to write to you. It's been a good month since I left home, as you know, and it's been harder than I thought. The city is one enormous maze, and if I move around after dark - even with my good eyes - I find myself down dead-end alley after dead-end alley. The first night, I encountered so many that I surrendered and tucked myself into a corner of one where the wind couldn't reach, and slept for a few hours. I can't speak of the rats; I'm trying too hard to forget them.

I've made friends, you'll be happy to know. A brave little guy I’ve named Sir Brow – his real name escapes me – who was kind enough to show me around, then take me with him so we could both earn some coin. He fights better than I, but I’m still practising everything you taught me, Ril. You can be sure of that, always.

Tonight I am sleeping in an inn, cosy and well fed and warm. Makes a world of difference from being out there, huddled on the cold stone, wrapped only in Norna’s old cloak. I wanted to come home after the third night, but then I remembered…

I met a man called Schall who was also new to the city, so we helped each other find the Inn that had been recommended to me. I hope to travel with him more often. No, it’s not like that. You know I have never looked at anyone like that since I met you.

An interesting couple were at the bar where I went in to eat. Tim and Cold. They were obviously in love, I thought, and were full of some good advice for Schall and me about what to look out for. If only I could remember most of it. Curse this memory loss.

Later, twin brothers arrived at the inn. Orphans, they said. Like me. I told them they were now my brothers. You know my thoughts on family. I asked them to mentor me, and though they didn’t say where they would be in the morning, I’m sure I’ll find them easily enough. I have so much to learn. I can’t remember their names. Started with a K. They’ll teach me to fight, and maybe they know another tracker I can learn from.

My memory, Ril, hasn’t been the same since…well…you know. Which helps when, sometimes, I wake in tears on the edge of a terrible dream. I thank the gods it is gone as quickly as a bird flying by, and within moments, it is as if it never happened.

It was nice to spend the evening outside the city walls. I feel trapped within the stone walls and the stone paths; I can’t breathe in there. But there is a good market and plenty of folk careless with the coin in their pockets, so I do what I must.

I must put my quill away, though, my dearest, as I am tired and have much to do tomorrow. I miss you with every breath. I may have forgotten a lot, but your face, your voice, the scent of you, is as vivid in my mind as if you were standing before me.
Goodnight, my Ril.

Always yours,
Mira