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Saffron has always been a bit of a drifter.

Growing up on the streets wasn't easy. For most of her life, Saff had to resort to stealing to survive. She couldn't remember ever notbeing homeless - even when her mum was alive. She didn't remember her mother in great detail; she had been very young when she'd passed. The only strong memory she had of her mum was the warm smell of lilac.

Saff was running one of her usual shakedowns - she bumped into a brown-furred lambie, feigning surprise.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" Saff lied. The impact had knocked the stranger's circular glasses off of his face. "Here, let me help you up."

"No no, my apologies, madame," the lambie spoke softly yet clearly, with a light british accent. "I really should be watching where I'm going!"

Ignoring his insistences, Saff helped the antlered lambie to his feet, deftly slipping a paw into his satchel as she did so. Her claws found purchase on a leather rectangle, which she pulled out and slipped into the folds of her fur.

"Well then!" the stranger spoke, dusting himself off. "If that's that, then I'll be off." He politely dipped his head to her, heading in the direction of the forest.

Saffron herself wasted no time in ducking into an alleyway. The felid lambie pulled out the small rectangle of leather, eager to see what treasures it held inside. She inspected in closer, and her face fell. The leather object wasn't a wallet at all. To her dismay, it was a book! She cursed her ill luck, tossing the book atop a pile of junk nearby. The tiny leatherbound book fluttered open, revealing lines of poetry scrawled across the page. But that wasn't what caught Saffron's attention.

A faint waft of lilac pervaded the air.

Saffron froze, standing completely still as memories came flooding back. She heard a child's laughter - her laughter. A comforting touch leading her onwards, carrying her by the scruff when she got too tired to go on. A gentle song, half-forgotten on the wind.

Shaking herself to clear her head, Saffron carefully padded over to the book. The scent grew stronger the closer she got. She found it... odd, seeing as the lambie she'd taken the book from had smelled nothing like lilacs. In fact, he had smelled of dust and black tea. Curiously, she retrieved the book, flipping through its pages. A small brass plaque on the outside read "Arcane Archive".

She thought the least she could do was return the book; she had no use for it herself.

-

Not long after, Saffron had left the town behind her, following a cobblestone path into the forest. A large tudor-style building loomed ahead, with beautiful mahogany half-timbering. The scent of lilacs had led her here, though there were none to be seen. As she got closer to the building, she could make out the words "Arcane Archive" etched into a wooden sign.

With a reluctant sigh, Saff closed the distance between her and the great mahogany doors. She rapped on them with the large brass knocker a few times.

"Yes?" The brown lambie from before answered, seeming rather frazzled.

"I'm here to return this," Saff explained, holding out the book. The rabbit-esque lambie barely looked at the book as he ushered her inside.

"Herrick Haberly, Head Librarian and owner of the Arcane Archive" he briefly introduced himself. "Now, let's see that book." He gently took the book in his paws, looking at it with a puzzled expression. "This is - I had this on my person - how did you get this?" His voice grew more stern with each word.

"You must've dropped it when we bumped into each other this morning," Saff lied effortlessly.

"Hmm, yes, I suppose so..." Herrick mumbled. Saff was about to slip out, when Herrick fixed her with a piercing stare.

"What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't," Saff shot back. She waited a few moments before replying once more. "It's Saffron," she stated.

The look of partial recognition that Herrick had been wearing skyrocketed into full-blown familiarity. "Saffron?" he looked slightly taken aback. "As in Saffron Rosenburg?"

Saffron stopped dead in her tracks. "How do you -" Her ears flicked back in uncertainty before she spoke again. "How do you know my name?"

Herrick's expression softened. "I was a friend of your mother's growing up," he explained sadly. "Tragic really, what happened to her. Awful. I - er -"

Saffron's raised hackles told him that he had struck a nerve, so he quickly closed his mouth. It didn't stay that way for long; Herrick was prone to chatting when anxious. "Thank you for returning the book - er, it's a Whitman pocket edition," he explained. "If there's anything I can do - some food, hot tea, anything - please, let me know." He had evidently taken in her dirty, disheveled state, and made some deductive judgements.

"I don't need your charity," Saffron spat, bristling.

"I meant no offence!" Herrick insisted, attempting to smooth things over. "I just meant... you returned my book. The least I can do is lend you somewhere to stay, at least for a little while."

Saffron shifted uncomfortably. On one hand, she was a tough, independent gal who could take care of herself. On the other... the idea of a warm bed sounded really nice. Plus clean water and non-dumpster food...

"Fine," she eventually agreed. "One condition - could you -" she hesitated, ears flicking. "Could you tell me about my mother?"

Herrick's eyebrows raised. "Of - of course," he stammered. A brief moment of silence passed as he regarded Saffron. "Why don't you sit down? I'll go make us some tea."

-

They spent the remainder of the day reminiscing. Saffron learned more about her mother than she had ever known, and felt closer to her for it. She couldn't help but think that it was her mother's spirit who led her to Herrick.

Over the time spent talking, Saffron came to learn that home wasn't a physical place - it was wherever your loved ones were. In meeting Herrick, Saff had reawakened her love for her mother. Saff learned that 'home' wasn't a place - it was a feeling. As long as her mother's love was with her, she would always be home. Nonetheless, in the time she spent with Herrick learning about her family, she began to look up to him and value him, almost like a paternal figure. He became a part of her 'home'. As such, Saff spends the remainder of her days living in a small apartment above the library - a home in both senses.