The market was hot and sticky, heavy with the scent of sweat and rapidly ripening fruit. Tucked in the shade between too much larger booths, Virgil sat at his makeshift stall and arranged his small bundles of flowers, herbs, and berries, head bent over his work.
He noticed the boy sitting at the booth. His gaze was downwards, lips slightly parted as he worked. His hair was unruly and looked like spun gold, and Dee could only imagine that it was unbelievably soft.
