The air inside the orphanage was stale, thick with the scent of unwashed clothes and damp wood. A dim candle flickered on the lone table at the center of the room, its wax dripping in slow, measured ticks—marking the time as two children circled one another, poised like predators.
A single piece of bread sat on the table, barely more than a crust. To anyone else, it was nothing. To Werf and Jil, it was everything.
"I saw it first!" Jil shouted, her small fists clenched at her sides.
"That doesn't matter! It was on the table, and I grabbed it!" Werf shot back, already taking a step closer.
Jil was fast, though, already darting forward, trying to snatch the bread from his grasp. Werf barely managed to pull away in time, his other hand pushing against her shoulder to keep her at bay.
She stumbled but didn't fall, her red hair wild as she lunged at him again.
"You're not stronger than me, Werf!" she taunted, grinning despite the hunger in her stomach.
"But I'm faster," he countered, twisting his body to dodge her next attack.
The two continued to struggle, hands grabbing, shoving, and pulling as they tried to wrestle the small scrap of food from each other. Neither was willing to back down. In this place, giving up meant going hungry, and neither had eaten since morning.
Just as Werf managed to get the upper hand, gripping the bread tight in his fingers, a firm hand clamped down on his head, halting him in his tracks.
"That's enough, you little brats," a tired voice said.
Both children froze, shoulders tensing.
Standing over them was a woman in her late forties, dressed in a worn woolen shawl that did little to hide her muscular frame. Her eyes, though sharp, held a warmth neither child could deny.
"Old Lady Hild!" Jil whined. "He started it!"
Hild sighed, the same tired sigh she always gave when the children called her that. "And you were going to finish it by breaking his nose, I bet."
Jil crossed her arms and looked away, pouting. Werf, meanwhile, still had the bread clutched in his tiny fingers.
Hild didn't say another word. She merely extended her hand, palm open, fingers flexing in a clear demand.
Werf scowled. "It's ours."
"No. It's mine now."
The bread was plucked from his grip before he could even react. Without hesitation, Hild turned to the corner of the room, where a small figure had been watching silently.
Fenr, the wolf cub, perked up at the sight of food. His silver fur was messy, his body thin from lack of proper meals. Still, his yellow eyes were intelligent, tracking the fight without interfering.
Hild knelt and placed the bread in front of him. "There. Now it belongs to neither of you."
"What?!" both children shouted in unison.
"That's not fair!" Jil stomped her foot.
"He wasn't even fighting for it!" Werf added.
Their protests were met with two swift smacks on the back of their heads.
"Ow!"
"Lesson learned?" Hild asked, rubbing her temples. "Food is precious, and fighting over scraps only makes you weaker."
Both kids grumbled but said nothing, rubbing their sore heads.
Hild sighed again. "Alright, since you two have so much energy, I have a task for you. Take this." She pulled a small pouch from her belt and tossed it at Werf. He caught it, feeling the weight of coins inside. "Go to the plaza and buy some vegetables. No nonsense. No fighting. And if I hear about either of you causing trouble…"
She didn't need to finish the sentence.
Jil and Werf nodded quickly.
"Good. Take Fenr with you."
The wolf cub perked up again, ears twitching. The children, momentarily forgetting their hunger, grinned at each other. A trip to the town center meant seeing the city, the knights, the markets filled with treasures they could only dream of.
"Alright!" Jil cheered.
"Let's go," Werf agreed, clutching the pouch tightly as they made their way to the door.