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Erahn blew into the flute carefully, moving his fingers along it in very precise movements, his violet eyes intent on an inked sheet of paper in front of him. He ignored the crowds bustling around him, or the c***k of coin, focused only on the music he was making.

He had written it in between classes, and had edited it when he should have been doing his homework, but until then the music on the page had only been in his head. Now, it was time to hear what the flute could do with it. In truth, it was meant for a flute and for a viola, but Erahn only had two hands and one mouth, and so he would have to settle for playing the flute and adding the viola's accompaniment solely in his head. It was imperfect, but it worked well enough.

The music twisted into a thoughtful tune, one that was just simple enough to be hummed absently, even when the passerby were out of range of his flute. He wiggled his feet, unbound by the shoes that lay on the ground collecting coins, keeping time with the melody as he read his verses bit by bit...

So far, so good.

Erahn paused at the lull, taking stock of the coins – good spending money for lunch, though he didn't actually need them – and making a few notations on the musical score. He checked his covered cup of water – empty. He would have to refill it. He was just about to contemplate doing so, when someone spoke to him. He blinked, staring rudely at the dark-skinned girl with her crown of horns. Did she just... call him a girl?

Sure, it happened, more often than he really liked. People said it was because of his father, a fairly smooth-featured man, but it made no difference to Erahn. He put the flute down, carefully, into it's case and, with a flourish to move his long sleeves out of the way, began to write.

”Not a girl.” he wrote, turning the board around to show her before turning it back and moving to the next line, ”I'm a boy.”, he wrote, turning it to her again just to absolutely clarify.

He thought a moment, before remembering his grandmother's admonition. - Be gracious with praise, Era -, she had told him, - it opens doors -.

Well, okay, he'd try it. Normally, he let praise happen because, well, he deserved it, but Grandma was occasionally right about things...

”Thank you. I wrote the music.” Grandma hadn't said he couldn't brag!

[Word count: 428]

At least she can read Erahn thought, shaking her hand, though it was more because it was offered and would be annoying to just leave there, than out of any desire to greet another person. His hand was quickly removed and back to his chalkboard, however, his hand hovering over the dusty blackness before finally scribing something down. ”You fought dragons?” Of course she had – about five of them. That was how many souls you needed to bring to Lord Marcus, if you were a warrior. ”Were you...” he hesitated, his curiousity springing forth, suddenly, with several questions. ”Were you scared? Were you hurt? Were they really big? What was it like?” He turned the board to her, eyes intently curious. His grandmother had fought dragons, as had his mother, but neither had really told him about them.

Erahn's mouth opened in an awed 'O' as she described her battle with the dragons. It was an incomplete description, but wow! Such excitement! Such dramatic action! He almost wished he could have seen it. Almost.

He would have responded to her, perhaps with a shake of his head, or maybe something more precise scrawled into his blackboard along the lines of I can't fight or I can't go or No thank you, but she was gone before he could react, a mere flash of a smile and a wave of the hand.

He watched her go, a little overwhelmed, before putting the musical score away and bringing the flute back to his mouth. Nothing written this time, just freestyle. There was a new tune in his head now, one that sang of dragons and stone.

He began, again, to play.

[FIN]