033

Apples in hand Orphic left the market square and went wandering. Three apples wasn't enough but it would do for a while. He made some stops at public fountains to fill his belly with some much needed water but mostly he wandered looking at the buildings with not worrying too much about where he was headed.

"Orphic!" A voice hissed in a loud whisper.

Orphic paused and slowly looked around, trying to discern where the voice was coming from and who was calling him.

"Orphic, here!." A familiar hand beckoned him from the deepest shadows of a street to the North. Orphic sighed and began to walk across the small public square. Here the buildings rose high above him on all four sides. The we dark grey of varying shapes colours. The rounded cobble stones beneath his feet spoke of the squares age. As did the faceless and nameless statue of a woman in the center.

She wore the robes of antiquity, and, if the fountain worked and she had not been vandalized beyond recognition she would have been playing some instrument or aiming a bow as water fell around her. Orphic paused at the dry fountain, not wanting to go any further. Here, at the center of the square she sunlight just toughed the top of his too-long brown hair. His hair fell to both sides of his face and hung down to his shoulders. He wore a grey cotton shirt that showed too many patches and stains. It hung loose on his thin frame, a product of recent lean times. Too many days like today, where three apples could serve to break his fast and stretch until dinner.