Ash Nightshade's Arc

Chapter 5 of 5

Morning comes and Ash unlocks the door. Word reached him at dawn through a knock and a whisper. Someone is selling coats under his sun mark at a market two lanes over. The coats are already gone. Every one sold before he heard the first name spoken. He stands in the open doorway with the key still in his hand. He walks the two lanes fast. The market is half awake. He finds the spot by the shape of what is left behind. A rusted metal cart sits crooked on the stones, its canvas torn, faded letters reading CLOTHING SALE across the side. Beside it stands a tall painted container, blue and gold, the lid pried open and empty. Fine script runs along its belly where buyers signed their names. None of the names are his. A small scaled creature crouches near the cart wheel, blinking pink eyes up at him. It clutches a folded square of cloth to its chest. Ash kneels. The cloth is a receipt scrap, and stitched into one corner is his sun mark, copied in coarse thread. The creature holds it out like a gift. Around the market, others move past in coats he has never touched, each one carrying his sign on the shoulder or the cuff. The seller is gone. The work is gone. His name walks away on every back. Ash stands. He does not chase. He takes the scrap from the small creature and folds it into his pocket. The coats are out there now under a stitch that is not his, worn by people who think they know what he made. He turns back toward his shop. The work he still owns is on the rack behind a locked door. He will cut tonight. He will sew tomorrow. The only answer left is more.