With a single hand, the traveler adjusted his long hair to ensure his pointed ears were covered. In his other hand, he cradled the last two bites of a pastry, delicate flakes clinging to his palm. Need to devour the remnants itched at the back of his throat, but he resisted. He needed them to find their creator.
Swallowing, the traveler weaved through the shopping and peddling humans as he followed the warm scent of bread in the air. An older woman was selling a basket of glistening loaves.
“Excuse me,” the traveler said, trying to add a hint of gruffness to his voice. “I’m looking for who made these?”
The woman leaned over his hands, scrunching her nose. “Two streets over, Miss Holly’s Bakery.”
The traveler thanked her and rushed through the crowd. Was the hint of spices and cream in the air because he was close or he was imagining it?
A young woman smiled at passersby who ignored her, her booth filled with a variety of delicate, flakey pastries. His breath caught in his throat as he watched her work, and his stomach clenched when he saw her tuck her hair around her ears just like he did.
Another abandoned fae.
Squaring his shoulders, he approached the young woman, offering his crumbs. “I’ve been looking for the one who made this delicacy,” he said, no longer hiding the melody of his tone.
The woman’s eyes warmed as her gaze took in the traveler. “You’ve found her.”
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