Morning light turned the reclaimed square gold, the bread line still steaming beside the fountain.
"One day as a baron, kid, your whole estate already fits in a wheelbarrow," Vella drawled from the clinic doorway, twirling a roll of bandages around one finger.
Hajin tore a heel of bread in half. "Ironwood Gate is a very nice wheelbarrow, you're just jealous, Auntie Ring."
"Say that again and the ring stays in my pocket where it belongs."
"He's been calling you that since the river, Vella, it has never once worked," Juna snorted into her bread.
"You ate four pancakes before sunrise, wolf, so I would stay out of this," Vella said, waving the bandage roll at her.
"I was hungry."
"She was very hungry," Loccy said, nodding with great seriousness.
Beside the fountain she knelt by a small girl in a threadbare coat, pressing a warm loaf into her hands. "The plain ones are for big stomachs, the sweet ones are for little fingers."
