Dharah paused at the mouth of the alleyway and pulled her blanket more tightly around her body, The volumnuous piece of cloth was the first thing she?d purchased with her meager store of coins after she?d reached the dry lands. Dry -- ye gods! She?d never been so dry in her life! Dharah kept expecting her hair to turn brittle and snap off, like dried seaweed. She blinked constantly, trying to keep the membranes of her eyes moist. It hadn?t been this bad, closer to the lake where she?d grown up, but Hydlaa was just too high in her opinion. The humidity was almost non-existant.
Dharah thought back to the conversation she?d had with another Nolthrir she?d encountered on her travels. ?You get used to it,? he?d reassured her, ?Your eyes and lungs adjust to the change in humidity. Oil is the key, keeps your skin moist, prevents the membranes from cracking.?
She glanced down at one delicately-webbed hand, at the faint cracks already beginning to form, at the slightly ashen tone to her skin from dried and dead skin cells. And yet, it would have to wait. Food and shelter took precedence over matters of comfort.
She shifted back and forth uneasily, her bare feet bruised by the cobbles beneath. She needed to buy some of those foot coverings the locals preferred, if she was going to live here. Boots, she reminded herself, they?re called boots. The list of things she needed seemed to grow by the minute, but her purse seemed to shrink even faster. It had all seemed so simple before she left. She?d travel to Hydlaa, learn a skill of some sort (always left conveniently vague in her fantasies), and establish herself as a prosperous whatever-she?d-become, who never had to grow leather-leaf kelp for a living or share quarters with 16 other family members.
It was the large family that had enabled her to act on that dream, too. No one really wanted her to leave, even with all the fights she?d been having with her parents as her discontent had grown, but one less mouth to feed was a welcome thing. Her family had pooled what few trias they could spare and wished her luck. It wasn?t much, but to Dharah it had seemed a small fortune. She?d turned the triangular coins over and over in her hands, savoring what they meant. Freedom.
She laughed bitterly at the memory now. Most of that simple store had been spent before she?d even reached Hydlaa. It hadn?t seemed that worrisome at the time--surely she?d earn more once she reached her goal and began doing?whatever it was she would end up doing--but now, faced with the realities of actually having to live here in this city, with no real idea where to go next, the lack of trias was terrifying.
She shivered again as she surveyed the plaza before her, trying to plan. She wasn?t actually cold, not physically. The Lake was far colder than this, so far from the Azure Sun, and she hadn?t needed more than the thigh-length, sleeveless tunic-dress she wore. The leather-leaf kelp her people grew for clothing was sturdy and flexible, and perfectly suited to the life she?d led underwater. But now, she found the constant touch of air on her skin to be unnerving, making her feel exposed and vulnerable. Drylander clothes, she thought, This blanket isn?t going to cut it. Boots, oil for my skin and hair, food, a place to stay, a way to earn money? The list seemed to grow simply by being thought about. She could feel panic welling up inside of her, and sat down abruptly. Several passers-by looked askance at the young Nolthrir, but she ignored them, dropping her head between her knees and trying to calm herself.
The images in her mind shimmered and undulated in comforting ways--the cool, silken touch of water on her skin, the light filtering down through the liquid, the shadowy entrance to her secret hideaway, a coral grotto ablaze with color and full of unusual shapes and pleasant groupings. Her own little pleasure-garden--all the more pleasurable for not needing any tending--her oasis from the press of people at home. In her mind, she could hear the music that was the lake itself, shifting, lapping, rising and falling. She was one with the lake. She was the lake?
Dharah drew one last deep breath and raised her head, calmer now. Oh, how she missed the sound of water, though. Even a little fountain would have been welcome, artificial though it may be. When I?m rich?The thought occurred a dozen times a day, or more. When I?m rich, I?ll have a backyard water-garden, with fountains and waterfalls, streams and pools -- and a large pond, big enough to really swim in. She smiled as she planned it all out in her head. A gurgling growl interrupted her--her stomach.
The young elf sighed and put her fantasies aside. They would keep. She climbed to her feet, ignoring the protests of her sore heels, and headed across the flagstones of the large square. There was a tavern this way, she thought, trying to remember conversations overheard between other travelers. She could eat there, maybe even buy a room for the night if the price wasn?t too steep. It would probably be the best place to figure out her next move. Other travelers would know how to make money, or where to find a teacher in a trade. Dharah pursed her lips fretfully. She?d never been good at talking with others, preferring to keep to herself as much as possible. But the other options, starving or giving up and going back home, were less palatable. She brought the image of her grotto once more into her mind, and seized the tavern door-handle with a boldness she didn?t really feel.
