Wystwood

31. The calendula and hound

Ada emerged from the underpass into a valley of sunlight. The cobbles beneath her feet were worn and sloping, and ahead she could see the curved arches that made up the compass' pavilion.

The stonework soared up on either side of her and was whitewashed in the afternoon sun, which darkened the red trail that was smeared across the bricks. It shimmered in the sunlight, as if freshly swept from slitted fingertips.

Halfway down the passage, the trail dwindled out, but from the corner of her eye, Ada caught a glimmer of crimson slashed on an opposite wall. She turned, moving from the path she and Solen had followed down to the canal front, and hurried deeper into the city.

Blind alleyways crashed and collided, blocking off paths before Ada could glimpse another thin streak of red and pivot once again. Occasional windows and flower boxes were the only signs that life outside of the grey alleys existed, and Ada feared she may have lost herself within the stone labyrinth were it not for the crimson ribbons, marking the way back to the tunnel.

She turned a final corner, and her feet faltered to a stop. Her hood had loosened in her flight through the city, and as it slipped from Ada's head and pooled around her collar, she stared at the girl before her.

Min stood alone at the bottom of a shallow well of steps. Behind her, two more paths intersected, though Min didn't make a move towards either, silent and waiting. She wore the same smock that she had been dressed in days before, but now her left hand was crusted in red.

"Min," Ada gasped, her heart stumbling a beat as she stared down the stairs. Even in plain daylight the girl seemed steeped in shadows, as though she were a mirage given form between the slowing seconds.

"Ada!" A grin spread across Min's face, and her wide eyes danced stars within their sockets as Ada lurched down the stairs two at a time. 

She reached out a hand to grasp at Min's, but hesitated as the girl's fingers, still slick at their tips, stretched out for hers. "What happened to your hand?"

Min glanced down, brow furrowing as she looked at her fingers as if she had never before noticed them. But then a giggle fluttered from her lips as she shoved her hand into her pocket and pulled out a handful of speckled currants.

Fisting her fingers together, Min crushed the currants against the palm of her hand, then, ducking around Ada, she traced a star on the alley's wall in a brilliant shade of red.

"I wanted you to be able to follow me, but I couldn't find a piece of string long enough," Min said, now wiping the remnants of the crushed currants onto the hem of her skirt.

"Follow you? Why?" Ada asked, her mouth gaping. "How did you even know where to find me?"

"Why?" Min repeated, cocking her head with a rustle of curls. "You were the one who messaged me, remember? Armestrong came this morning to the caravan. It was very early, but I didn't mind."

Min seemed to be getting excited now, hopping from one foot to the other as her cheeks flushed a shade almost as bright as her fingertips. Ada felt quite the opposite, her heart plunging as she watched the child dance around her. After their conversation the previous night, Ada hadn't held much hope for Armestrong to actually deliver her message, and while she was grateful that the woman had gone to such lengths for her, Ada had once again failed to consider how they might impact Min.

She could almost hear Armestrong's words echoing around are her skull, the woman's voice low and half broken as she wished for Min not to get caught up in the affairs of bandits. Now, Ada was responsible for Min slipping from the sight of her father and charging into the heart of Wysthaven.