Luna woke about half an hour before sunset, her skin pale and eyes bloodshot even as she smiled for her little brother’s benefit. “Hey,” she said to Amber, a lilt at the end questioning if the older girl had brought medicine or tonic to ease the pain; her face dropped when Amber shook her head in denial. She busied herself with the soup so as to not have to see Luna struggling to stand; her malady took her strength and energy and left her weak as a newborn kitten, and Amber hated to see her that way. She should be able to run around the town and play like the other young girls her age, not waste away here in a falling down shack.

A splash of hot liquid on her hand brought Amber back to herself, and she realized that she was gripping the spoon with white knuckles and stirring the soup with such force that she’d sloshed some of the precious broth out. She pulled the spoon from the pot to allow it to calm, and took a few deep breaths herself to ease her nerves. There was nothing she could do for Luna except to be on her game; money is what would save the girl, and money was something Amber could get.

“Let’s eat,” she called, and the young siblings moved to circle around the small cooking pit in the center of the room. Amber watched their faces as they served themselves from the pot, reveling in how much Jongin had grown in the last two years since Amber had met them. The little boy was only seven or so years old, the lack of parents making it nearly impossible to tell exactly, but he’d grown in the last few months, his limbs too long for his clothing now. Luna, on the other hand, had seemed to waste away even more, her short frame only coupled by her overly thin body. Amber could see the bones in her wrist standing out prominently as she ladled some of the soup into her bowl; her hand began to shake after only one ladle, though, and so Luna set the bowl in front of her as it was and began to eat.

Jongin had been stealing to feed his sister when Amber had met them, and though Luna was the older of the two, probably around twelve years old, he’d been fiercely protective of her when Amber had tried to see what was wrong with her. It had taken the two several months to trust her, but after seeing their situation, she just didn’t feel right in leaving them to fend for themselves. She was a skilled enough thief, she could help feed two more. 

Especially if she could get a good haul tomorrow. She rubbed her hands together and reached for the last bowl, the one with the chip in the rim, and filled it with her own portion before settling back to eat. With any luck, she’d take away enough food tomorrow that she’d have to make two trips to the square, her pockets too full to carry any more. The fair came every weekend and made for good stealing, but during the week she wouldn’t have a chance to take anything for them; the local merchants had eyes like e