![Image](http://i.imgur.com/L3VVAVF.png)
Summer 57, 518AV
It had been years since she’d left Sunberth. The last time she saw the dingy cobbled streets had been in a battle with those she’d barely known alongside her. Although she didn’t do much of the battling, it was more of cowering in the ship. Fire wasn’t ashamed though, it wasn’t her battle to be fought. Eyes roved the walk, skimming over the people who brushed past. The stench of their sweat and odor clinging inside her nostrils. It was not a smell she missed. Hmm… it was a strange feeling to be back in the place that had been all that was known for so many years. However, a few years felt like so much longer to someone of her nature. I wonder if it doesn’t feel the same because I’ve been gone longer than I lived here… the thought crossed her mind, but it was a truth. Having traveled to Zeltiva, Syliras - the capital of all she knew, Kenash, and just prior, Endrykas - the city in the sea of green. And of which, only one of the places would she truly miss.
Puffs of dirt clouded under black slipper covered feet, a green heavy woolen cloak trailing along behind, as she passed by familiar businesses. Fire didn’t have the urge to live back in the slums and had decided instead to find housing in a more suitable accommodation. Passing the packed houses, all squished together as though they were built individually and then smashed together like she’d tend to do with peas on her plate, she kept watch for her available space. The Western Heights was a place she was vaguely familiar with, only because she’d passed through them when younger.
Some of the homes leaned, others had obvious add-ons after having been built. Of those, most looked precariously built. Fire tried to avoid walking under any that looked as though they might fall with a slight cough from Zulrav.
Legs slowed the pace as she came upon a faded blue, tall and skinny house, nestled between two which, she guessed were supposed to be white but, had faded to a dingy yellow. Scanning the building she noted the paint peeling in several places, a shutter hung crooked to the side and a step to the door was half missing. Hefting her pack higher up on shoulder, the pads of leathered feet carried her up the slowly decaying wood to the entrance. With a deft hand, her fingers slipped the heavy metal key into the mortise lock and, with a turn, listened as the gears clicked into place, giving her entrance to her new house in her old home.