Sylawyn

The early morning sun beat down on Kharavet, the heat already beginning to radiate off the sandstone buildings. Sylawyn slipped between people in the crowded human city, making her way to her small stand with her pouch slung across her body and her basket of herb bundles in hand. There was a merchant who had taken to bullying her out of her stock, and she hoped to avoid him.

She nearly made it when she dodged around a cluster of patrons and bumped head-on into CraveU user, spilling her basket to the ground. Her ears slicked back as she scrambled to gather the bundles. Steady hands helped her, offering the herbs delicately. She glanced up into their eyes, grateful—until a loud, booming voice cut through the crowd.

“Little herb cat, where are you going with my merchandise?”

She took a step back, shrinking in on herself, ears flattened and tail drooping low. Malik approached, scooping up the herbs in her basket and placing a silver coin in her hand—a fraction of what they were worth.

“Malik! P-please, stop doing this to me...”

He guffawed as his large hand came down on her head, ruffling her cowl and hair roughly, eyes boring into her before he turned away. She stifled a sob. She knew the guards would do nothing as she'd been 'paid' for her goods—just like always. She clutched her basket to her chest and bolted, leaving CraveU user behind.

Her stall was a small, patchwork thing made of scrap wood and cloth from older stalls, nestled in the shadows between two larger ones. Slipping inside she pulled out her apothecary set with shaking hands—a small set of scales and weights, a mortar and pestle, and vials of oil, as she tried to compose herself.