I woke up that morning groggy and overheated, wrapped in blankets that trapped body heat way too well.
I opened my eyes slowly, blinking against the pale morning light filtering through the window.
Lirka was there, exactly where she'd fallen asleep. Her head weighed heavily on my shoulder, rusty-red hair scattered across the pillow in every direction.
It was her tail, not the blanket, long and bushy fur that felt like cotton under my fingers, that held all the heat: it was completely wrapped around my torso, a furry embrace claiming me as her exclusive property.
Her arm squeezed my waist with a possessive grip, and one of her legs was tangled with mine under the sheet.
A smile spread across my face. That absolute, wild trust lasted exactly until Lirka snapped one eye open.
That golden eye stared at me intensely, still foggy with remnants of sleep.
Slowly, it slid downward: to her hand clawing my waist, to the leg tangled with mine, and finally to the tail using me as a particularly comfortable pillow.
Her pupil contracted and her expression changed in an instant, just like every single morning for the past year. Her cheeks reddened.
It wasn't a shy or delicate blush. It was a fire-red flush that ignited her entire face in an instant, starting from her neck all the way to the tips of her fox ears, which shot straight up on her head.
"G-good morning, Lirka," I whispered, trying to keep my tone calm so I wouldn't spring the usual trap.
Lirka released a guttural growl. The first blow aimed at my face shot forward like a spring, but I was ready this time. I had one year to learn this lesson.
"Aha! Not this time!" I exclaimed, blocking the attack with my palm. "I know your morning reflexes by now, Lirka!"
"Shut up! Away! You... too close!" she yelled, struggling to untangle her tail and legs with embarrassing coordination, almost rolling off the bed in her attempt to recover her dignity.
"This is my bed, you k—"
I didn't finish the sentence. My body literally flew backward. An unexpected kick, precise and powerful, had caught me square in the stomach.
I landed on the wooden floor. The impact traveled from my back up to the base of my skull in a sharp wave that made me grit my teeth.
"Don't you ever try to touch me again!" Lirka thundered, her voice filling every corner of the room.
Her tail thrashed furiously behind her, all the fur bristled like a cornered porcupine, while her ears stood straight and trembling with indignation.
Sitting on the bed, she looked down at me with those golden eyes burning with embarrassment and rage, still red as a ripe tomato.
"But you're the one who always comes to my bed!" I shot back, struggling to catch my breath.
"Don't touch! You... idiot! Ugly! Away away!"
And to properly conclude the discussion, she stuck her tongue out at me while closing her left eye, before burrowing back under the sheets.
I rubbed my aching neck, sitting on the cold floor. I was smiling. When had that happened?
"Received. Have a nice day, little fox."
She released an even louder growl, but there was something different in that sound, a note that resembled an embarrassed grumble more than an actual death threat.
As I struggled to my feet, ignoring Sipar, whose muffled giggles made clear he'd enjoyed the entire show from his bed, I felt something warm in my chest.
The dorm door burst open with a sharp thud, almost wanting to chase away the remnants of dreams by force.
Emma entered with a martial stride. Arms crossed, chin high. A general inspecting the troops before battle. She was already wearing her clean dress, her favorite green one with wooden buttons that Sister Cora had sewn for her months ago.
Her black hair was pulled into a braid so neat it looked sculpted, ending in that red tip that resembled a brush dipped in crimson.
She pointed at the door with an imperious gesture. Then at us. At the door again. The message was silent but crystal clear: Move or pay the consequences.
All three of us shot up at once, bringing our right hands to our foreheads in an impeccable military salute.
"Captain, my captain!" we shouted in unison. It was our ritual when Emma wore the mantle of "General Mom."
We burst out laughing at seeing her cheeks puff up with the effort of not returning the smile, while Lirka, in response, dove back under the sheets.
Under my very own sheets, to be precise.
"Good morning to you too," I muttered, massaging my side where a bruise throbbed with every breath. I walked over to Emma. "Where do we have to go in such a rush?"
The girl moved her hand in the air with a sinuous, almost fluid motion. Something swimming.
"Fish? Oh, right... the fish market!"
Sipar groaned from his bed, mounting one last desperate resistance under the covers. "Can't I stay home and study? I'm still trying to figure out how the Dwarves went extinct!"
Lirka and I looked at each other and shook our heads. She was thinking the same thing I was. Bookworm.
Emma wasn't moved. She crossed our room in three decisive steps, grabbed the edge of Sipar's blanket and ripped it away with a strength you'd never expect from such a tiny girl.
Sipar rolled to the floor protesting like a sack of potatoes, and this time it was my turn to laugh heartily at my brother's fall.
Lirka's turn arrived, but before Emma could grab the blankets, the little fox reacted with feline reflexes, leaping upward and clinging to a ceiling beam. She hung there, sticking her tongue out at us with a cheeky wink.
Emma returned to position, fists on hips. Lirka's ears lowered slightly, then shot back up in defiance. It resembled a stalemate, one of those challenges destined to last bells, until Sister Cora's voice drifted from the kitchen like a final blow:
"Are you ready yet? We're buying fried fish too, if we get moving!"
It was like throwing a Lirka in a henhouse. We immediately lunged toward the wardrobe, shoving each other to grab clothes and racing to see who could get their pants on faster.
Even Lirka dropped from the beam, though as usual, she ended up being the slowest: finding the tail hole in new pants was still a challenge worthy of a puzzle.
I ran out of the room and down the stairs, jumping the steps two at a time.
"First!" I cheered, landing on the ground floor with both feet making the floorboards boom.
A few moments later it was Sipar's turn, who descended the stairs almost rolling. "Second!"
"First!" a voice suddenly shouted above our heads.
Lirka, with an acrobatic leap that would've made a wild Glow-Cat jealous, had launched herself directly from the first-floor balcony. She flew over me, Sipar, and poor Emma still on the stairs, and even a stunned Sister Cora. She landed with superhuman grace exactly in front of the large entrance door.
"Um, that's not really how it works..." I murmured, while my index finger pointed at her, and then downward.
Lirka followed the direction of my finger. Her eyes slid down and her face instantly became the same color as her hair. In the rush of the jump, the button hadn't held.
Instead of bursting into tears or getting offended like any other kid would've done, Lirka joined in our merriment. She doubled over, laughing her head off with that crystalline and wild sound she had, followed immediately by all of us.
Even Sister Cora had to cover her mouth with her apron to keep from cracking up too loud, while her shoulders shook with fake coughing fits.
"Ahah! Lirka, you've never been a modest creature, dear, but let's try not to cause a scandal at the harbor," Sister Cora said between breaths, struggling to compose herself.
With a maternal but brisk gesture she fixed the buckle on her pants and directed us all toward the exit.
Once outside, the cool morning air hit us full on the face.
Sister Cora pulled the heavy wooden door toward her and turned the key in the lock with a metallic sound that seemed to mark the official start of our adventure.
She didn't even have time to pull out the key before Lirka had already sprung like a coil, leaping into the square in front of our Orphanage and the Church.
"Last one to the harbor loses their pants!" she shouted, turning for an instant to stick her tongue out at us, before disappearing at full speed along the road descending toward the port.
"Hey! No fair, you cheater!" Sipar yelled, launching into pursuit with his long arms windmilling frantically. Emma, more pragmatic, lifted her green skirt slightly and took off with a rhythmic and steady run, determined not to fall behind.
I laughed and prepared to chase them: I couldn't afford to lose my pants today of all days. Could I?
I was about to take off, when something caught my attention and I almost tripped over my own feet. Three floating spheres.
One Gold, one Silver, and one Crimson. Three shiny spheres of different sizes floating lazily above a staff that tapped rhythmically on the cobblestones.
Holding it was a thin and lean man, with graying hair and a goatee cut to a point that gave him a predatory air. His orange robes were so flashy, elegant, and embroidered that they appeared completely out of place in this part of the city. Gold trinkets and rings of unknown materials adorned his long, nervous fingers, while the loose and flowing robes seemed to move with a life of their own.
His smile was mocking, as if he were delivering a punchline only he could understand, making fun of the entire city.
I followed him with my gaze as he planted himself, motionless as a statue, right in front of the church bell tower. The three spheres on the staff began to sway harder, tracing elliptical orbits as if pushed by an invisible wind that blew only for them.
"Arek, what are you doing back there?" Sister Cora's voice reached me from the distance, breaking the trance. "I don't have pants to lose, but you do!"
I shook my head, attempting to chase away the image of that orange man from my thoughts. My legs moved before I could even think and I started running at full tilt toward the port, where the merchants' shouts and the rumbling of my stomach were already covering the tapping of that mysterious staff.
"Who was that man?"