She searched every nook and cranny of West Street but found no sign of another kid looking for a job.
There were plenty of holess children and stray animals in town, but most were huddled together just trying to survive the winter, scrounging for food and clothes—much like she had been a few days ago.
But it was easy to tell the difference between soone with hope and a plan versus soone simply drifting from day to day.
A boy with black flas flickering from the ends of his hair passed by, and Rita grabbed him by the sleeve.
He clutched a pack of biscuits to his chest and tried to look fierce. "What do you want?!"
But his soft features made his bark worse than his bite, rendering him entirely unthreatening.
There were at least seven or eight kids and a erkat hanging around nearby—if he'd looked the least bit tougher, Rita wouldn't have picked him.
He just looked easier to talk to than Rick.
Rita let go to show she ant no harm. "Is there a kid around here looking for work?"
The boy's tense expression eased a little. "Yeah, but I don't really know her. She didn't show up today."
That wasn't the answer Rita had hoped for. She glanced at the sky, then thanked him and hurried back to the riverside.
Over the next two days, Rita only entered town briefly each evening before the bakery closed, snatching up enough bread to survive and imdiately flying back out.
Most of her ti was spent in the forested hills a half-hour flight from town, searching for herbs.
She was planning to use the knowledge in her head to brew a basic potion and bring it to an interview.
But for now, she only dared to search the outer edges.
That day, she returned from the hills with a bundle of herbs wrapped in fabric, excitedly flying back. She landed at the bridge as usual.
Normally, she'd just fly down to her base under the bridge, but today she saw another kid about her age leaning over the railing, peering down—not sightseeing, but clearly looking for sothing. Or soone.
The kid didn't have wings, but she did have a big, fluffy tail like a Samoyed.
The tail was mostly white, with a black tip, just like her ears and hair—silver-white with black tips. Even her hair puffed up like fur, unkempt and wild, very Samoyed-like.
Rita approached cautiously, stopping about ten ters away.
The kid turned to look at her.
Her expression was calm, but Rita could feel the tension, the guardedness, and even a hint of shyness that wasn't well hidden.
She pressed her lips together, eyes lingering on Rita's face, then the herbs in her arms, and finally eting Rita's gaze again.
"Were you looking for ?" Rita asked.
"Aren't you the one looking for ?" the Samoyed girl replied.
Rita blinked. So this was the other kid searching for work? "You're looking for a job too?"
The girl nodded. "Yeah. I heard from Maple Syrup that you were, too."
"Maple Syrup?" Rita thought of that annoying redhead. "The one with the curly red hair?"
"Yeah."
"I'm..." Rita started to introduce herself, but her mind blanked. She ant to say Rita, but what ca out was, "Xunge... My na is Xunge."
It was like the world's creator had so weird compulsion for two-character nas.
She didn't dwell on it. "What about you? What's your na?"
"Mistblade. I'm Mistblade."
In kid logic, exchanging nas ant they were now acquaintances.
The two of them sat down on the grass by the bridge.
Rita shared the cookies she'd found the day before. Mistblade didn't mind that they were a day past expiration. Her aloofness faded a little as she murmured a quiet thanks.
She seed like the quiet type. So Rita took the initiative. "Why are you looking for work?"
"To pay for school," Mistblade replied.
" too! I heard Moonlight Wetlands is really good." Rita's eyes lit up. "Do you have a plan? I've looked at a bunch of jobs—none of them want ."
Mistblade shook her head. "You won't make enough. No job pays that much."
She said it with the smallest, sweetest voice—but it was pure boss energy.
"Right? That's what I thought too!" Rita said excitedly. "I tried to find work, but the pay is way too low. I heard it's 1000 gold coins per term for Moonlight Wetlands. Even if I got hired, I'd need to work for years to afford it."
"There's more," Mistblade said, sharing sothing Rita didn't know. "They only accept students under eleven years old. Once you're over eleven, you're out. Enrollnt is in the seventh month of the year. When's your birthday?"
Rita's eyes went wide with horror. "I just turned ten last week. What month is it now?"
Then she clamped her mouth shut—she'd just exposed herself.
"It's the fifteenth month," Mistblade said without missing a beat. "If you don't get in within the next seven months, you'll never be able to study there. And if you can't get into a magic school, you'll never awaken."
Rita didn't even have ti to process the fact that this world had sixteen months.
"Are there... other schools?"
"No. The nine major academies and thirty-seven minor ones all follow the sa rule: only students under eleven."
Rita looked grave, as if she'd stumbled onto so universal truth. Clutching her cookie, she muttered, "I knew it. I knew turning eleven was the turning point. Scarlett didn't believe ."
Mistblade: ?
Rita suddenly grabbed Mistblade's hand. "How do we get the money? Do you have a plan?"
Mistblade hadn't gotten that far. She'd only co out today to look for a potential partner. She skipped the question and asked, "So you're in?"
Rita nodded enthusiastically. "I'm in! But we split everything fairly."
"Of course," Mistblade said. She'd only been in this strange world a few days herself. "Then it's settled. We'll talk details tomorrow. I have to go ho now."
"What? You have a ho?" Rita's face froze.
Mistblade's expression stayed neutral, but her ears and tail drooped.
She didn't want to talk about it, but she also didn't want her new teammate to back out. After a mont's hesitation, she said, "Don't worry. They won't pay for to go to school. I'm not quitting. I will get into Moonlight Wetlands."
Rita didn't know what to say. She gave a dry nod. "Alright... so where and when tomorrow?"
"Eight in the morning. The gem shop."
"Works for . If you can't make it, let the redhead know. I'll do the sa."
"Got it."
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