The early morning came in quick at least to Uma turns out getting your throat slashed takes it out of you
'Oww everything hurts'
She thought as she sat up in bed and looked around
'So uh what do I do now?'
'Feels kinda rude to just go downstairs expecting like a breakfast or something maybe she wants me to leave secretly so she can be like "oh she left without a trace'
She chuckled to her self with that thought as she made her bed and tried to strained herself out as best she can
'Well if she gets made oh well I'll just go out the front door if needed'
Uma marched her way downstairs with a sorta nervous energy that'd you get being the first to wake up at a sleepover at your friends house as she carefully went down the stairs where she finally got a whiff of that sweet smell
'Damn girl that smells amazing'
The smell compelled Uma to take her steps faster which caught the attention of Serosa who just gave a smile as she flipped whatever this worlds pancakes are surving a plate on a seat Uma assumed was for her
'Oh wow she made some for me that was sweet of her'
She didn't know how to feel about this no one's really made breakfast just for her before so it was unnerving but the delicious smell compelled her to devour the plate and 5 others which after she let out a gluttonous burp she realized and her cheeks turned red
'Fuck godammit Uma your gluttony sickens me'
She said slapping her cheeks together
'Alright alright you can fix this um'
Uma struggled with her handsigns trying to say thank you but looked more like she was throwing up ninja signs
Serosa just gave a chuckle then her hand settled on her head warm, steady like a mother who just watched their kid do something out their comfort zone
"Your welcome dearly, Oh yes Come Come come," she said, gentle. "Let's get you some fresh air Someone's has got something to say to you."
Uma blinked didn't ask.
'But i don't no know anybody'
But she followed.
The air outside was crisp. The kind that made you feel clean, like the wind knew something you didn't. Birds flitted across rooftops. A dog barked somewhere down the road. The town was quiet, but alive.
They took the path winding toward the edge of the main square. The smell hit her first burnt iron, oil, smoke and then she saw it. The forge.
the smithy looked up when they stepped inside
He stood behind a cluttered workbench, soot streaked across his arms, apron already half-unfastened like he'd been ready to call it a day. But when he saw Uma, he straightened.
His mouth opened, then closed again. Then he cleared his throat.
"We, uh… didn't get names before," he said. "Yesterday. I didn't ask. I should've."
Uma tilted her head.
"I'm Hamron," he said. "Been working this forge longer than I've had knees that don't crack."
She raised a hand, touched her chest, then mouthed the word:
'Uma'
"Uma," he echoed, nodding. "Right."
Then there was an awkward beat
Hamron rummaged under the workbench for a second before coming back with the board in both hands.
"I, uh… made this."
He handed it out, palms open like he was offering her something more fragile than it looked.
Uma took it slowly.
The board wasn't pretty. Not even close.
It looked like someone had tried to smooth the edges with a rock and a prayer half of it was sleek enough to press your cheek against, the other half felt like it'd eat a sweater alive. The wood still smelled like sap, the kind you only get when the tree came from just a few blocks down the road. It was sanded, sure, but not by a woodworker by someone who normally worked in steel and hoped that was close enough.
Tied to the corner with looped twine was a stub of chalk, already worn a bit at the end like he'd tested it.
'It's ugly I love it'
She gave a tiny nod of thanks, sat on a nearby crate, and started to write
The first few letters came out like a child learning cursive in the dark
T H A N K U
Hamron grinned. "Hey, readable's good enough for me"
"I still say your handwriting's worse," Serosa muttered, arms crossed.
"Mine's sturdy. It's got character"
"Is that what were calling chicken scratch?"
"Rich coming from the woman who labeled her spice jars in a code no one else understands?"
"They're color coded"
"They're all brown!"
Uma glanced between them, lips pulling into a silent smirk
'Oh my god. Just kiss already.'
She erased the board slowly. Took her time. Let the tension brew just a second longer.
Then she scrawled out:
U + H I M ?
Serosa leaned over to peek.
Read it once.
Froze.
"…Are you serious."
Uma blinked up at her like an innocent cat who just knocked a vase off the table
.
Serosa's face went red.
Like actual red.
Without another word, she snatched the board out of Uma's hands like it had insulted her ancestors.
"Nope. We're done here."
Hamron blinked. "What happened?"
"Tell her what you were going to tell her," Serosa snapped, not making eye contact
"Was I gonna—? Oh. Right." He turned to Uma, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was, uh, gonna ask if you wanted to learn smithing. Just the basics. You've got a sharp eye, steady hands. Thought maybe… you'd like it."
Uma stared at him.
Then down at her empty hands.
'She really took the board. Rude.'
She held out her hand, fingers open
Serosa sighed and slapped the board back into it
Uma immediately wrote:
O K
Hamron smiled, relief settling in his shoulders. "Great. We'll take it slow. I'll show you the forge next time—when it's not a thousand degrees in here"
Serosa cleared her throat. "And maybe next time, someone will think before they write."
Uma grinned at her.
Then underlined "U + HIM?" again, slowly, just to be annoying
Serosa took the board again
"You're banned"
Serosa spun on her heel, the wooden board tucked under her arm like a war prize she said nothing didn't even give a look back
Hamron gave Uma a helpless shrug. "She'll get over it"
But Uma wasn't listening.
Her eyes locked on the board.
Her only way to talk.
Walking away farther...and farther and farther
then it clicked
'Wait. Wait wait wait— OH SHIT'
She bowed quickly to Hamron—one hand pressed to her chest in apology, the other waving a frantic goodbye—and bolted after Serosa like a polite little storm
"Hey!" she tried to yell, but all that came out was the air wheezing through her nose.
Serosa didn't even flinch
Just kept walking like a woman with zero guilt and an overabundance of smug.
Uma caught up fast, stepped in front of her, and planted both hands out like a crossing guard
Then pointed to the board.
Then to her own mouth.
Then back to the board.
Serosa raised an eyebrow. "Oh. You want this?"
Uma nodded slowly, eyes narrowed.
Serosa pretended to think.
Tapped her chin
"Alright," she said. "But there's a price."
Uma folded her arms, already suspicious.
"I need groceries," Serosa said. "You're going to get them."
Uma pointed at herself.
Then at Serosa.
Then made a circle in the air like, "what happened to you being the adult?"
Serosa ignored it. "You'll go to the market. I'll tell you what to get. Verbally."
Uma blinked
'She's not serious'
"No repeats. No pointing. You hear it once, you write it down, and you bring it back."
She handed over the board with a sharp, smug smile.
"Think of it as… listening practice."
Uma took it like it might explode.
Then wrote:
R U S E R I O U S ?
"Deadly," Serosa said, already turning back toward the house.
Uma stood there, staring at the board, chalk still warm in her hand.
'This is what I get for being funny.'
She exhaled through her nose.
Tucked the board under her arm.
And followed, dragging her dignity behind her like an overworked mule.
Back at the house, they sat on the couch Uma curled in one corner like a grumpy cat, board in her lap, chalk hovering above it like it might strike on its own.
Serosa reclined beside her, legs crossed, sipping something warm from a chipped mug. She stared straight ahead as she began:
"Alright. You need to get the following: dried fennel root, green yam—not the spotted kind, the flat kind—two river pears, half a dozen salt pods, and if they've got it, aged yellow rind. Not gold rind. If you get gold rind, I will disown you."
Uma blinked.
'Okay. What.'
She stared at the board.
Tried to write fennel.
Got halfway through before it started looking like funnel.
Serosa peeked over her mug. "Doing great, by the way."
Uma shot her a look and erased the mess.
Tried again.
FENLL
Nope.
FENOL
Closer?
'Why is this language allergic to spelling things like they sound?'
She gave up and drew a little plant icon next to the half-word. A sad-looking herb with a label that just read: ROOT?
"Creative," Serosa said. "Not helpful, but creative."
Uma exhaled through her nose like she was practicing how not to scream.
Then moved on.
YAM
Okay. Solid start.
GREEN YAM FLAT NO DOT
It barely fit. She boxed it in dramatically.
River pears came out as RIV PERZ.
Salt pods were just:
SALT???
And then the kicker:
AGE YELL RIND
With a sad frowny face underneath.
She turned the board toward Serosa.
Serosa set her mug down, stared at it like it was a modern art piece that insulted her lineage, then gave a small nod.
"Honestly? Not bad."
Uma blinked, suspicious then tapped a frowny face.
"You'll survive," Serosa said, standing. "You've got spirit."
Uma raised the board again:
U HAVE ISSUES
Serosa opened the door.
Uma was still sitting.
"You've got this," Serosa said with a gentle push to her back. "Just smile, nod, and pretend you know what's going on."
Then she added, as Uma crossed the threshold:
"Good luck, sweetie."
The words sounded genuine. Warm. Encouraging.
But the smirk?
Yeah, she was enjoying this way too much.
Uma stood outside with her board in one hand, dignity in the other, and muttered in her head:
'This is fine. I'll just wing it. What's the worst that could happen? Besides… y'know. Everything.'