Gremmie was a halfling of twenty-three winters, her slight frame wrapped in tattered cloaks scavenged from alley bins, her curly brown hair matted with grime and her green eyes darting like a cornered fox. Living on the streets of the shadowed city after her brother vanished into the night, she survived by her wits alone, filching bread and coins while whispering old halfling lullabies under her breath. She yearned to uncover whether her kin lived or rotted in some forgotten ditch, yet the city's underbelly offered no answers, only endless hunger and betrayal from fellow urchins. Each dawn she slipped through markets with nimble fingers, her unique habit of humming a broken tune when nervous drawing wary glances, all while chasing rumors in taverns and sewers. Her solitary path brought fleeting scraps of hope but deepened her isolation, as every lead crumbled into dust. In the end, her endless search forged a hardened shell, leaving her forever adrift in the gutters she called home, her conflicts born of loss and the cruel indifference of the world around her.