The Burning, Part 2

********* Talia**********

From still within her dreams she heard muffled voices downstairs. The shades were pulled closed to block out the light and heat of day, but it must have been before noon and she wanted her precious sleep. The dark room held enveloping rhythms of sleep and the soft cushions below. The voices downstairs sounded greatly pleased, but she did not want to leave her warm and still place of peace. Talia slipped back into sleep instead.

Waking up in plenty of time for her afternoon shift, Talia brushed up against fur while rolling over. Orli was sound asleep beside Torin, who opened a tired eye before rolling over to rest some more. Talia carefully navigated around the sleeping figures and found her way to a ladder leading down to the first floor. The fire in the center of the room had died completely, and on top of it was a large flat pan firmly set and recently cleaned. Oddly enough, five strange Forest Shadows were sleeping on the cushions around the fire pit.

She grabbed some bread, honey, cheese, and salami from the pantry. The five visitors were sleeping soundly so she sat on the last available cushion and studied them. Two young men about her own age who looked identical and were both drooling on the floor; one boy closer to Maril’s age whose hair was longer than usual and formed a curtain over his eyes; an older gentleman who was turned away from her but whose fur was peppered with silver hair; and a woman whose hair turned in silver patches and who had several large rings in her ears. True to Torin’s explanation she saw they had a leather bags, boots, cooking gloves, and more surprisingly had brought a few leather bound books! Most of their clothes were linen, but she saw leather bracelets with colorful beads woven in.

Not wanting to waste any time, Talia cleaned up her dishes, laced on her own leather boots, and headed out into the sunny heat of midday. The trees lining the walkway and the yard gave her plenty of shade to stretch and practice the fighting forms she had been learning from Farenfil. Torin would usually join her, but in her absence Talia decided to switch to some of the old forms from home. They were forgotten to everyone now, so it was unfortunate that she had forgotten most of them too. However, the human style used the enemies force as its weapon, unlike the Forest Shadow forms which benefited from their strength and flexibility.

In mid turn the sight of an approaching form did not panic her. She peacefully continued her kata forms until she saw it reach out to grab her. She took a step back and guided the reaching hand forward, causing her opponent to lose his footing. The twin stumbled and she forced him with a shove through the motion. As he hit the ground she turned to see his identical brother approach with claws extended and a dark grin on his face.
“Hello, breakfast.”
She slipped her right hand onto her belt and withdrew the short sword she had recently adopted. While she could not use it well, the threat was usually enough to deter would-be attackers looking for an easy bite.

“Not breakfast, Talia Ashton. Do you have a decent blade?”
“Just these-” he said and lunged forward with one easily blocked blow after another. He was toying with her, which was just fine with her. The first brother had recovered and now approached, trying to get on her opposite side but she kept pivoting the group to prevent that.
“As I don’t have claws, why don’t we put our blades away?”
“You handle that blade poorly,” the one with claws extended said and came in with another lunge. She led him through and after deflecting his second swing she saw his clawed foot come up toward her mid section. She blocked with the handle of the blade but her grip slackened. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a second foot and took a direct blow that knocked the wind out of her. She stumbled backward panting.
“Your forms are cute, little tree, but you haven’t practiced enough.” One said.
“Either of us could have taken you easily,” the other said. She had decked him, and he still had the gall to say that? “Who taught you?”
Before she could catch her breath to answer, Torin came out of nowhere and blind-sided one of the brothers with a kick to the ribs. He fell over and his brother laughed and gave her a full-toothed smile.

“Torin! It’s great to see you! Lovely timing as always.”
“Good kick.” The one on the ground said almost wheezing. “Taking that to competition tonight?”
“Yes,” she said, “this will be my first year.” The standing brother approached her and they started sparing lightly with the forms.
“Has your dad taken you out hunting yet? Real experience can help.”
“We went once,” she said, “but he hasn’t had time to recently. Everyone who can do guard duty is too busy.”
“We’ll take you out! Won’t we?” The one Talia nicknamed Claws said. His brother, Mr. Dirt, was back up and Talia went after him again. They sparred again and he was soon on the defensive, but she got several irritating kicks in. She hoped to anger him enough to make a mistake, which seemed to be working.
“You’re pretty pathetic to get beaten up by a tree!” Claws said. “Don’t make me have to come over there and save you!” Mr. Dirt’s claws swiped at Talia and missed, but shred the front of her shirt. Thankfully, the pajama shirt and pants she wore were old and it was not her new work clothes. He came at her with speed and she ducked and rolled him over. Mr. Dirt fell on his back with a satisfying oomph. Talia tried to pin him down but after he threw her off she got him in a locked position.
“And I thought cats always landed on their feet. Who can take who easily, Mr. Dirt? Say uncle!”
“What?” He was just realizing he couldn’t get up. “What are you doing?”
“What is a cat?” Claws asked Torin.
“Uncle.” Mr. Dirt said while staring flatly at Talia. She let him go.
“You’ve got to teach me that grip! Do it to my brother.”
Claws shook his head. “Mr. Dirt, I’m stronger than you both combined. Better stick to storytelling.”
He growled and jumped on his brother, but was quickly thrown into a bush.
“Better leave him alone,” Torin said. “Come, you can practice with me.”
They all sparred for a while but the twins quickly tired and sat out.

Some time had passed and Mr. Dirt was pacing and mumbling to himself what sounded like poetic recitation. He moved his arms as if mentally composing the rhythm. “The time has come again, at last, to approach the edge of what has passed…”
“Strength is not on your side, little tree. Why do you fight?” Claws asked while Talia continued forms with Torin. The Forest Shadow girl was much more graceful, but she was not concerned with it.
“I need to think about my purpose in life. It is a good activity to get my blood flowing.”
The twins laughed but Torin stayed silent.
“You have sap, not blood,” Mr. Dirt said.
“Those are some deep thoughts for a tree-runner!” Claws added. “What have you dwelt on so far?”
“What does having the heart to heal and protect mean? Not having the heart to destroy won’t keep me alive.”
“Trees heal other plants and creatures, keep the balance of life, cure diseases, provide shelter, and feed everything that grows here,” Claws said. “And many tend to die young, but everything does.”

“I have studied plants my whole adult life, I can see how they feed the smallest to the largest in the ecosystem. They create the air we breathe, the homes we live in, and they are constantly destroyed so that we can live. We needed them in my time too, and I saw what happened when they were gone.”
“What do you mean?” Mr. Dirt asked with complete attention.
“My world suffocated and starved to death, Mr. Dirt. The trees were diseased, the air was thin, and the animals all died, starting from the largest. The oceans changed and all the whale corpses started rising, followed by the fish and everything else. My people were very effective destroyers. I was part of those who tried to stop it, but obviously we failed at that mission. What else would you have of me?” She gestured to herself. “What do I have to offer?
“Your modern-day trees seem to know more than ours, or have some ability to grow crops faster and prevent famines. But I am not a tree. I’m the last of a monster legacy. How am I supposed to ‘heal and protect’ anything? I am also physically weaker than any other intelligent creature I’ve met so far as well.” She looked at Claws who was grinning deviously at her. “Except for Mr. Dirt. You all seem to be doing fine on your own.”
Torin looked at her. “You don’t look that dangerous to me.”
“Not necessarily the point.”
“The trees woke you now for their own reasons, so what more is there to know?”
“I can’t speak with the trees, Torin. Your dad had to interpret for me. I’m not part of your world.”
“Maybe not but your stories are amazing!” Mr. Dirt looked like he was falling in love.
She looked at him dumbly. “I just told you the most horrible thing imaginable.”
“Oh no, yes, it was quite terrible. I don’t mean… It’s just I can’t tell stories like that.”
She shrugged. “I guess the new purpose of my life is to tell you about human history. We’ll start from the creation of the wheel to the Dark Ages, the Renaissance, conquering the world, a lot of war, flying in airplanes, and the beginnings of space exploration.”
He looked like he was about to squeal, staring between his brother and Talia as if to ask for permission to do so. In the end, he settled for clapping with anticipation. “Please do!”
“Where were the Forest Shadows then?” Claws asked.
“We didn’t exist yet,” Torin added in. She had heard many of the histories from Talia by this time.
“How could we not exist?”
“When the tree swallowed me up, it must have been doing so to other animals and creatures as well. They must have been released later and evolved.”
“Wait a second,” Claws said with hands up to stop her. “What does evolve mean?”
“When a species changes over a long period of time to adapt to its surroundings. You look kind of like a bear/panther/human crossover. I can’t believe you are so similar to humans though! Your hands with opposable thumbs and vocal cords match us exactly. It’s almost too coincidental that the Winged Fury have those same features too but are obviously from a different family all together.”
“So you had them first?” Claws asked.
“We humans existed first, and there were some other creatures in our time with thumbs and others with similar voices but not like this.”
“Why don’t you teach us more about warfare?” Claws inquired with eyebrow raised. “We’ve got our share of battles.”
“Horribly unfair to do that,” Talia shook her head. “I’m not supposed to be destructive, remember? But warfare has a nasty and dishonorable history. We were brutes, don’t imitate us.”
Something exploded in the distance. The others all jumped and their hair stood on end, but Talia only noticed the birds it startled into flight.
“Come on, Torin. I want to freshen up at the river before work.” The Airel River which many farmers depended on had all but dried up in an unusual turn of events. Thankfully, the bathing pools were fed by the Mist Mountains to the west, which still flowed.
Another bang went off and was accompanied with the sound of distant roars. Torin started growling and Talia noticed the others were crouching and looking around confused.
“That’s probably just some engine backfire, firework test, construction project. You don’t have any of those, do you? It didn’t sound like gunfire. We’re good. Let’s get going!”
“You’re supposed to be a healer and protector. I think someone might need you.” Torin said.
“Super hero human to the rescue,” she said dryly and punched a fist into the air with the other on her hip. “Let me get dressed first. If I’m late for work, I’ll blame you.”

Claws turned in for more sleep, but Mr. Dirt was too wound up to stay home and joined the girls into town listening to more tales of human history. Human wars seemed just as prevalent as Forest Shadow wars, although he could not grasp his mind around the number of people who were alive at once or the numbers that had died.
When they approached an open space in the river bend, smoke was rising over the few buildings and a small crowd of people. Despite it being near the height of the day, there were more people awake than expected, though one would think the sunshine was liquid fire by how they avoided it.
“Is that Jour?” Mr. Dirt asked as they headed toward a smoldering patch of grass. Many people were lingering in the area and beating the dampened grass with rakes. The ground had burned outward quite a ways but was contained now.
“Dad! Are you okay? What were you doing?” Torin quickly lifted his arms and checked for any scorch marks on his body.
“I was attempting something special,” he said with a grin. “Apparently I didn’t understand it well enough.” The charred remains of several tables were scattered about and many people in long robes with gloves were carefully moving stores of certain items into position for another experiment.
Inspecting the new table set up for the next round, she saw someone removing a yellow rock from a bucket. “That’s sulfur,” she noted with surprise and covered her face with her sleeve. “Don’t breathe it when it burns if you can help it. Better yet, wear my mask next time you do. Mix it with water to form sulfuric acid. Is that why the ground is hissing?”
“Talia!” Jour ran over and gave her a spinning hug. “You know about this? What am I making? Can you tell?”
When he put her down, she inspected two other buckets presented to her by his assistants.
“Charcoal,” she said upon inspecting the first. “Sulfur.” She had to stare at the third for a moment. “That’s saltpeter isn’t it?” She looked up at Jour. “You are making gunpowder?”
“Is that what it is? Amazing!”
“Did you just invent gunpowder? How long have you been working on this?”
“Just this last week! We got the sulfur from the salt mines this morning. I don’t know what we’ll do with it… What would you suggest?”
“Fireworks,” she said quickly. “Explosions high in the sky that rain down bright colors in the night. Play with different chemicals to find new colors, but use a fuse like some rope next time so you don’t catch fire in the process. They’re very beautiful and popular at festivals.”
“Thank you, Talia Ashton!” Jour gave her a deep bow as did all of his assistants.
“You’re welcome,” she said awkwardly looking at Torin and walked away from the group so they could get back to their work.
“Is that what your Dad does all day? I want his job!” Mr. Dirt said to Torin.
“He’s been acting weird the last few weeks,” she said while watching him work. “I didn’t know he was doing this, but he has been working on compiling a complete log of all plant species he can find.”

“You mentioned earlier that you had been considering your purpose in life. The why for your existence.” Torin said on their way to the butcher shop. “Talia, why are any of us here? Why did the forest create us? I have never thought of anything more than becoming stronger than I am, but what is the purpose?”
Mr. Dirt looked at her strangely, but Talia just smiled. “Welcome to the world of psychology and philosophy. Questioning the purposes for everything can make some interesting discussions, but I don’t know enough yet about this world yet to judge.”
“What are you two going on about? You sound like a couple of Winged Fury, debating and talking all the time.”
Talia stretched and yawned as they entered the stone corridor of the meat market.
“It’s too early for work. I have not been getting enough sleep, and I still haven’t seen any of the festival.”
“Will you be able to make it to Varah and my display tonight?”
“I’ll ask Mar if I can get the time off.”
“Great! Hope to see you at 10 tonight!”
Mr. Dirt hovered in the doorway of the quiet meat shop. It was too early for the displays or Forest Shadow customers, but a few workers were walking the streets and vendors at their stalls in hopes of Winged Fury or other visiting customers. He stared after Talia as she put on her apron and joined Laour who was cleaning blood off the counters and floor. The butchering knives were lined up on the counter by a sharpening stone.
After watching him walk away, Talia looked up to see Mar appear like a phantom out of the back room which made her jump in surprise.
“Mar! What are you doing awake at this time?” Talia asked.
“Some people came here looking for you.”
“Was it Horun?” Talia asked with a pit of dread in her stomach.
“No, great fires, what did you do to brush him the wrong way? Some other folks, rich kind. Said they liked your sandwiches.”
Several days before in her hurry to eat during a short break, Talia had made a few sandwiches with several items she had bought in the market. While the items were fairly common, her concoction had stirred up some intrigue among their clientele and soon they were requesting it specially made by her. Mar was not opposed to selling the deli meats, but the sandwiches themselves were too drastic for her and she didn’t plan to change the image of the shop.
Instead, customers were trying to call on Talia directly for special orders.
“Porir made on like the Scales army had come to call, you’d think he was showing honors to the Kur family the way he groveled. They’ll be back to pick you up at 5pm. I hate to lose you at such a busy hour, but they are paying very generously.” So her butchering work had turned into a full-blown catering job.
“Did they say what time it ended?” Talia asked.
“You will be working with them until they say you’re done, just stop by afterwards so we know you’re alright and someone can walk you home.”
The distraction from her personal life was welcome, but to miss out on Varah and Torin’s display was a blow. Mar noticed her downcast look and misinterpreted it.
“I can’t spare anyone to join you tonight, sorry. But there is something I have been meaning to give you and this is probably the best time.”
Mar brought Talia upstairs to the hallway outside her room. On a simple table outside her door was a black folded cloth. The larger woman picked it up to reveal a black cloak with a deep hood and matching black trousers.
“It’s beautiful! I didn’t know you could afford buying something like this for me.” Dying clothing so dark was expensive, which is why Talia and her light skin could never be hid properly.
“I want you to wear this when you go out in unfamiliar crowds. You stand out too much, and I don’t want to lose you now that I’ve broken you in.”
To stop the quick thought along the lines of how similar that made her sound to a dog, Talia bowed her head and expressed her sincere thanks.
“I’m heading back to bed.” Man, that sounded good to her too. “I’d still expect you to get your work done before you head out at five.”

Working with only five hours of sleep a night for several days was finally catching up with Talia, whose beginning energy turned sluggish in the heat and humidity very soon. For the first time Laour seemed to notice the bags under her eyes and, laughing, said, “You should become a Forest Shadow and sleep in the day.” Laour let Talia get a nap in the back room in the afternoon. Fortunately, a quick thunderstorm kept most of the customers indoors for a time, though there were still more than usual and quite a few tourists. She woke up excited but nervous about her second job.
Stepping into the main room in a sleepy haze while tying on her apron, Talia noticed the two Winged Fury inspecting a horned maelis with Laour indicating fat streaks in the meat. She swiveled on her foot and made quickly for the backroom. No need to point out the obvious, that she should attract as little attention from foreigners as she could.

“There’s a live tree-runner in your shop.” A female voice stated in an unfamiliar accent. The sound was airy and ringing in numerous rises and falls through the sentence. Talia paused at the sound of it, but thought better of it and walked out of the room, heading down the steps into the basement with frustration at having to go into hiding.
"Thank you, Captain obvious," Talia muttered on the way downstairs. From upstairs she heard a squeal. The sound might have carried.

After hiding in the basement for thirty minutes, Talia came up and was relieved to see that the Winged Fury had left. As usual Laour didn’t say anything, but his movements past her and while tying some meat seemed quick and curt. He was either focused or irritated, but he would not meet her gaze. She was getting on more people’s bad sides.
Then Laour did something quite unexpected. The cool and collected man began singing a song while sharpening the knives. Talia had not heard any Forest Shadows sing, and his voice was so soft she thought he was humming. The words soon died into a hum, then vanished until nothing remained but a soundless gentle sway. How queer.

A few customers brought word that Jour’s experiments had drawn great attention and some uproar. More than one person woke up confused or thought the hour chime of the bell tower was going off at odd intervals. Several more times Talia had to work on butchering animals and cleaning bones in the back while Winged Fury swarmed the streets for gossip on the latest experiments and happenings. Less favorable was news that Scales had been spotted were watching from the eastern border of Kurral.
If the Scales caused any trouble, would Horun take it out on Jour? She was nervous and uncertain of what Jour could do to help her tomorrow. He was clearly too caught up in his work to be paying her situation any mind. He told her to be brave, which she took to mean die a brave death. He said he would find a way out of it, but was the creation of gunpowder part of his plan? Would it give him favor with those making the decisions? And if not, could she get her hands on it?

“That’s not what I ordered,” a customer said as he examined the meat she was beginning to wrap.
“Oh,” Talia looked down in confusion. “I’m sorry, what was it that you ordered?”
“Eight backstrap butterfly cut steaks.”
He was irritated too. Wonderful. She cut the first piece slowly but cleanly. No more mistakes for the customer with burrs on his butt. It was a very Varah thing to think, she thought with a smile.
“How does this look?” She held up the most perfect butterfly cut she had ever made. His face scrunched up and he looked over towards Laour hoping to catch his eye. Talia looked too and saw him smirking flirtatiously at someone outside the shop. What was wrong with that man?
A small Forest Shadow walked in the door, so small in fact she could only see moving feet behind the other people in the shop. Laour hadn’t even noticed the new customer. He didn’t seem to know he was at work either as he strolled out of the shop to whatever was distracting him.
“That will be fine,” the man said with an exaggerated sigh.
“Would you like it to be a bit thicker?” she inquired.
“No! I said it was fine!” He slammed his hand down on the counter and everyone jumped. She stopped and looked up at the man. His eyes were wide with shock or disbelief, crossing over to anger.
“Alright, sir,” she said calmly and with greater control than anyone else present. It felt all eyes turn to watch as she calmly continued cutting, focused on the smooth action. The angry Forest Shadow was breathing deeply as if he was running. This was one of the easier cuts and she was grateful for that. She was very aware of her own breathing and worked to slow it. She thought of them as children who could not control their tempers and found creating the atmosphere of peace would begin with faking a peace within her panicked self.
When he finally handed over the coins and she exchanged the meat, she noticed he had calmed considerably. He had a very strange look in his eye, like he was seeing her for the first time.
“Have a nice evening,” she said with a small smile.
“Yeah,” the man said airily. He seemed lost in his own thoughts and turned and walked away without another word. Talia heard Laour laughing hysterically outside. Great, everyone had gone insane.

Talia returned to reality and began helping the backlogged customers who looked with confusion at each other and spoke in hushed words.
“Excuse me,” the short figure stepped forward in the line, revealing a 5-foot-tall man in a pale orange robe with sleeves tied back. He looked like a monk. The clothes were finely made, a light silk with the yellow pattern of an exploding hand stitched in. He wore tan leather sandals as well. Compared to the two-piece linen garbs of blue and red around him, he stood out like a tiny fire.
The others backed away from him like a fire, too.
“Talia Ashton? I am Detsu Que. Could you please come with me?”
She looked around at all the people in the shop, none of whom seemed to want to challenge the short flame that was Detsu Que.
“Can I ask what this is about?”
“We have an employer who would like to showcase some of your ‘peculiar’ foods at a feast. I and my team outdoors were sent to fetch you and help you prepare the materials you will need. Are you ready to go now?”
She looked over at the door as Laour stumbled his way in the door and grabbed the frame. He looked like he had just seen something horrific, but he met her eyes and she saw he was himself again.
“Yes, just let me grab a few things,” she said and almost took her apron off before realizing she would need to pack some of her deli meats. “How many people will we be cooking for?”
“About 500.” Talia’s hand slipped and knocked the wooden cutting board to the ground, where it narrowly missed her toes.
“Alright,” she said. She was not alright. She was gripping the counter for support. “Laour, could you please lend me a hand with these customers?” How much would she need? There wasn’t enough deli meat to feed that many people, and the sandwiches weren’t even that good. What else should she make? She couldn’t say no, could she? Her heart was racing and Laour glanced over at her. She grabbed her journal to start taking notes but her hands were shaking so bad she couldn’t read what she was writing.
“You don’t need to take any ingredients with you for now,” he added. “Everything has already been arranged.”
What did that mean? Were they going to eat her after all? Mar had sold her? Talia stopped writing and closed her eyes.
Laour came over and guided her to the back of the room. He helped her don the new black wardrobe in silence over her blue clothes. She looked up at his green-yellow eyes and he leaned down until their foreheads touched. He didn’t say anything, but grinned showing his teeth and she couldn’t stop a matching grin from reaching her face. “Let’s see some sharp claws tonight,” he said and instantly the words filled her with energy.
She headed out of the shop with hood drawn down followed by the small orange shape of Detsu Que.

************* Chaaya ************
It was just before sunset when Chaaya opened her eyes to the blinding glow. The room was small and smelled of old books, sweaty bodies, and beaten floor pillows long past their intended life. Where was she? Reality sunk in quickly and she breathed in the damp air of the evening. She was sleeping by the open window in a merchant’s attic. Around her were other travelers who had nowhere else to stay. Everything she had owned or earned had been claimed by the messenger clan of Ret. Chaaya had the clothes on her back, the red leather bands on her wrists with half-fan patterns, and the book with identical markings which she held close to her chest.
Words would now be the burden she carried. Who she was mattered no longer to anyone around her. She headed down two flights of stairs to the common area of the merchant district. It was a large room with people rushing about to deliver orders of bought items, messengers and beggars and wealthy individuals mingling in a common ground. Travelers like her were sitting in different groups by their specialties indicated by band color and clans. She found the other reds for domestic gathered around a small roast on a spit nearly picked clean with vegetables in the pot of its juices.
She sat and thinned faces looked at her with suspicion, the other six men and women going silent. They glanced at her nicely tailored clothing with thick black on white trim. If only she had thought to put on a simpler outfit, Chaaya would not be making enemies so soon. The aged and blind woman in green whom she had given her sword to was sitting on a stool nearby in energetic conversation with a gentlemen looking rather sheepish.
“Chaaya, come here.” She had a carrot sticking out of her mouth but quickly ate it and hurried over with journal in hand. The gentleman gave her a small smile before telling her the message that he wanted to tell his wife. The request was for a hand-written delivery, which she prepared, but should the woman request it, Chaaya would have to read the article aloud. From the subject material of the man’s confession, she expected to receive more than just a signature of receipt from the woman. There was a reason messengers gathered scars as well as signature. Was the old blind Ms. Ret messing with her?
“Where can I find Tili Meu?” Chaaya inquired while grabbing a bag with portable ink well and pen for the receipt signature.
“She’ll be at home probably, lives at the palm-window house two doors over from the beehives in The Flower Gardens.” While Chaaya was noting the location he added, “Or she could have gone up to her sister’s place, she’s the florist up in Willowcrest.” That was nearly an hour away, but she noted it and hoped she could run and make it in time. “But if you miss her at the florist, ask her sister if she mentioned going anywhere else while in the area. Sometimes they go shopping. In fact they could be at the festival.”
Chaaya slack-jaw stared at the man. He was going to make her run all over town in hopes to spare himself having to deal with his own wife! What a louse. She hoped the delivery would not take all evening or she’d never make enough to earn her keep.
“I will try to deliver your message before the midnight meal.” He signed in her journal and handed the old Ms. Ret a single silver shell coin. Chaaya looked at it in dismay. She could earn 10 times that much from a single Tree-Runner. Her own outfit was worth at least 1 gold coin, or 50 silver coins. The other travelers were probably debating the story of her fall from favor or simply laughing to themselves at how ridiculous she appeared.
Chaaya did not start off in a brisk walk but in a full four-legged run. The message was all that mattered, and she would not be outdone by some domestic woman.

*********Horun***********

A representative of the Council of 10 stood up in front of the crowded Parliament room. The ten aged Forest Shadows sat in three rows of benches behind him, looking regal in almost pure silver fur. “By a vote of 6 to 4, the Council votes in favor of disbanding personal hunts until further notice. Any animal caught by those who are not registered hunters with tags shall pay a fine of one gold coin. In addition, all tree-runner hunts excluding those for festival purposes will be banned for the foreseeable future and any found poaching are to be punished by 5 days of confinement. Territory patrols shall also be increased by three more clans and the range is to include the Hayavan Valley. These rules are to stand until Council or the Kur Family call to make them void in part or in whole. Dismissed”
Horun sat in the front row of the crowd, who immediately began bristling. He could almost hear the waves of disapproving growls emanating from the clans who were already stretched thin. With this, the poorer and weaker families would drop from starvation or physical exhaustion. The border patrol captains in his row seemed to give a sigh of resignation. Many had hardly seen their families in the last two months.
Horun and many of the others headed outside for some fresh air on the covered porch. Over drinks that servers brought many discussed what they were too hesitant to indoors. “Can’t they see they are beginning to kill us?” Horun’s second said. “We merely sit by and wait to be struck down. We should send a message to the Scales by striking them preemptively.” Farenfil Fen stood silently next to the man with an unfocused reflective gaze over the city rooftops.
“They didn’t attack us today,” Farenfil said. “They were watching us.”
“I find that unsettling,” the second said. “Do you think they were intimidated? Their numbers only seem to increase and they’re un-phased by the coolness of evening.”
“Not so,” Farenfil said. “Notice they never leave their mounts at night. I think they rely on their body heat for warmth.”
“Kill their mounts and you can immobilize the Scale.” Horun added as he stepped forward to join the group. “It’s a weakness for the cold-blooded.” Horun was also concerned about their odd behavior today. What were they looking for? An opportunity? Was it those strange explosions Jour was sending off east of Old Town in the open river plain that had them startled? The guard house across the river was certainly on high alert throughout the day.
“I wonder if that strange experiment your brother-in-law was doing made them afraid,” the second added as if reading his thoughts. Farenfil’s smile dropped.
“He’s been acting so strange lately. Maybe it will help, but he’s trying to make it into some form of entertainment. I think we could use that power to somehow protect ourselves from attacks, but he’s trying to impress us with colorful fire.”
The Scales certainly noticed Jour’s display, but even before that they may have been watching for other tree-runners wandering through the smaller villages. They were their preferred target. Why did they kill more of those than Forest Shadows? They were lightning rods for attacks. If so, how long until Merton Village was attacked? More than a dozen were hovering in the fields east of the river.
Horun’s mind had drifted back to his short window of opportunity to clear up the mess with that tree-runner. His claws dug into the padding on his thighs. A few of his men had gone to the Old Town market as they had heard word she worked in one of the shops, but there was no sighting of her this evening. It would be much easier to capture outside the shop or the Fen home, as no one could argue it was their right to claim her. His hair stood up on end. Where was she hiding?

********* Talia**********

Music was wafting up in the air along the river’s edge as they approached the city. Talia was gawking at everything, the place looked like crowded archaic metropolis made of wide-set wooden buildings. Most buildings were 3 and 4 stories with the occasional balcony. She saw the bell tower that must ring on the hour by a tall but slim pine tree. There was a mild smell and long lines to what she presumed were the outhouses for the city. Apparently they had not created a plumbing system for sewage removal. Did that mean everyone had to leave the city to use the restroom? That probably limited city growth.
She thought the sunset crowd would slowly be waking up, but there was a dance party taking place across the river at a massive amphitheater. Several fast-paced strings, drums, and some indistinct singing carried across the water.
“Why did no one tell me this was going on? Maaan!” Detsu Que looked over at her with a slight smile.
“You haven’t seen Kurral City yet?”
“No. This is amazing! Is that part of the festival over there?” She gestured across the river to the tree-speckled depression and rolling hill with musicians playing. The players were not Forest Shadows as she had thought at first, but Winged Fury! A few flew overhead and dived between the trees like acrobatic sky-divers to the beat.
“Oh my gosh, I need to be there! Why didn’t someone get me out of the butcher shop sooner?!”
“So you haven’t been staying in town then?”
“No,” Talia said.
“Interesting. Where are you staying? With anyone?”
“Around,” Talia waved her arm vaguely away while not meeting his gaze. She let the topic drop.

They were passing meat shops to their right with a river on their left as he spoke. “Unfortunately, we’re on business right now, but hopefully afterwards you will have some time to see the city.”
The gas lanterns lining the street were not lit yet but a lovely sunset of orange and yellow clouds made the world glow. Crowds of black fur jostled them in leather hats and boots with beige gowns. A few rickshaws broke around the tide of people and only small groups of Winged Fury could maintain a small circle of space. Talia could not see the shop fronts over the crowd to her right, but they walked along the river toward the setting sun. It broke between buildings and she soaked it up on her face.
Across the river were many smaller stalls in a small shopping district. “That’s the Merchant District,” Detsu Que said following her gaze. “Lots of vendors are visiting from out of town so it spread onto the theater grounds. They’re usually focused in this area, but now it’s more of a free-for-all.” He lifted his nose and kept forward. Two massive buildings stood before them with carved stone columns and statues of mythical looking creatures.
“Woah, you have masons too? Who lives there?”
“The workers were probably hired from the Beiro Valley, but the building is quite old. This is the home of the Kur Family.” They must be a powerful or at least wealthy clan, she thought.

“Who rules Kurral City?” Talia asked.
“You’re very inquisitive, Ashton. Why do you care?” Detsu Que watched her for a reaction.
“Curiosity,” she said.
“Well, the 10 Council Members make the laws in combination with the head of the Kur Family.”
“So the Kur Family is your monarchy, and the Council Members are your parliament. Are Council Members elected or appointed?” He gave her a startled expression.
“What? I mean are they chosen by a majority vote of the residents or of the Council Members, or have they been appointed by either the monarchy or another individual of power?”
“They come from the oldest and most experienced members of society,” he said. “How can the young be any wiser than they? And what would be the point of asking ordinary residents?”

She let that conversation die too as they walked between the Royal Palace of Kur and where the Parliament held their sessions. It was just as large and similar in style, but a wide covered porch allowed many finely clothed individuals to fall into discussions and drinks during some sort of intermission. She saw the familiar face of Jour’s brother-in-law Farenfil Fen. She was preparing to reveal herself and greet him when a white-sashed Forest Runner with a scarred left shoulder blocked her view. Horun did not see her but he had approached Farenfil. As quickly as she had seen them they had passed behind a rose-lined path between the buildings.
Through the trees ahead was a small community of large and nearly identical homes. The lights were on now as they approached a dark blue house in the middle. It was three stories tall and large enough to house a small ballroom. Detsu Que motioned her towards the door first. She knocked tentatively and looked back at the group gawking as if she had done something stupid. This time she pulled open the heavy door carved with ivy motifs and stepped in.

To her left was what at first seemed normal living area. It has the first full set of furniture she had seen, complete with comfortable seats for reading and a sofa near the cold fireplace. A bookshelf reached floor to ceiling to both sides of the mantelpiece, and above it hung a picture of a Forest Shadow. The style was not realistic, but resembled a flattened Egyptian appearance. Behind the living area a second room was visible with an in-ground seating table with mat cushions. The floors were all polished wood with large red and navy-patterned rugs scattered throughout. A table by the front window held lovely white chrysanthemums in vases.
To her right the large entry room split into several closed doors. One of the other servants in yellow guided her up the stairs directly ahead and they happened upon an actual ballroom which ran the full length of the second floor! Windows on all sides let the dying sun’s glow in as neighboring buildings began to light their lanterns. Mountains, trees, and the cityscape were visible through the east-facing windows.

As she wondered what kind of dancing they did here, she noticed that the western half of the room was equipped with an open kitchen and table after table of the largest assortment of ingredients she had seen yet.
“Is this a ballroom or a kitchen?” she asked the yellow-clad group that had assembled in front of her. Their faces shown with a most peculiar look of confusion and one laughed at her question, but no one bothered to answer. A few of them distributed plenty of long cooking gloves and aprons and she put them on as well. Detsu Que came up the stairs and addressed her. “Okay!” He clapped his gloved hands together. “Now it’s time to get creative. We’ve seen sandwiches, now what else can you do?”

The progress was very slow at first. Taking stock of their tools gave her ideas for what she could make. They had open pit fires with a few grill tables set for frying. Primitive ovens were near the windows. They were two-tiered and very wide with chimneys reaching straight up to the roof. The kitchen lacked thermometers and while lard was plentiful, oils did not seem as popular as she had hoped with lard being the dominant cooking tool. Proper temperatures would depend on skilled kitchen hands. According to Detsu Que, the purpose of the room was to cook as an act of entertainment, though music and dancing were common interludes.
An amazing variety of warm-local ingredients were available so she decided the safest best was to stick to a mostly Mediterranean-themed meal. She considered making an eggplant parmesan, surprise-ingredient lasagna, pesto, bruschetta, Greek dakos, cucumber salad, and serve it along with the accompaniment of fusion tiramisu absent of coffee and arugula prosciutto pizza with a margherita variety as a failsafe. The first order of business was setting a group of three to work on preparing olive oil for the next several hours. Much depended on their success so she supervised them often giving them encouragement and brainstorming methods for straining.
Detsu Que would look over her shoulder occasionally to say, “interesting combination!” but more often than not to answer her questions with, “I don’t think we have that.” He pushed for more meat in the menu than she was used to, so she tried to accommodate with the new varieties on old classics. Horned maelis was a good substitute for goat and knollen was like beef, but none of them were quite like chicken.

By 9:30pm, as she approximated from the sharp sounds of the deep tolling clock, she was exhausted and sat down to taste one of the questionable lasagna. The pasta had not turned out as she’d wished and the tree-runner meat had an overpowering smell and taste. She thanked her concerned looking assistants who seemed ready to face punishment at the disaster.
“It’s fine, we’ll just try it vegetarian next time. You’ll never learn anything if you don’t mess up now and then.
“What is in the vegetarian?” a man about her own age but much taller asked.
“Only vegetables, no meat.”
“So it’s a side?”
“No, it’s still a main dish. Some people live entirely on vegetarian diets. Cheese and nuts can help to balance the protein for a filling meal in that case.” He shook his head while staring off into his own thoughts.
“Or we could try knollen, just try not to get one too gamey,” she said as he walked off. Dishes and metal clanked as the teams continued to work.

In the lull and haze she began to doze and before her came the image of a Tree Runner. Unlike those previously seen at the shop, it was alive and those green eyes were clear and stark by its dark grey skin textured like a tree. In his rags once white but now worn it stood before the dark blue house lit lightly by the cloud-passed moon. What was it doing?
“You’re asleep.” She jerked awake to find Detsu Que sitting in the chair beside her.
“I’m alright.”
“Why don’t you go rest for a while downstairs? I believe we have things under control now. I will come and get you if we need you.”
Slowly staggering to her feet, she let him guide her down to the living room. The fireplace was lowly lit which gave the room a cozy dim glow. Someone had even brought a blanket for her and she quickly fell into dreams.

The Tree Runner’s impatient eyes were waiting for her. She recognized the building as the one she was currently in. Her eyes shot open to the unfamiliar ceiling completely disoriented and with heart racing. Tonight’s work could establish her place among the Forest Runners. It was her responsibility to do her best tonight for the sake of her freedom, as well as to help the Fen household. Her actions had hurt their honor and she needed to restore it. Mar and the shop were depending on her too.
But thinking of that tree waiting out in the dark when it should be sleeping tickled at the back of her conscious. She quietly donned her black garbs and stepped out the back door of the building. Just as in her dreams, she could make out its form some distance from the back door.

The specter from her dream was taller than her and had an exaggerated lanky appearance from its unnaturally long limbs. It turned to look off in the night and started quickly walking off. Without asking Talia followed it. Soon they were in a jog heading south between the Parliament building and other councilmember homes. Candles glowed in many of the windows illuminating their path forward.
In front of them stood two giant Tree Settlers reaching up into the starry abyss. Jour had mentioned that some had settled outside the Hayavan Valley. There was another massive building to their left and the dark forests spread off to their right.

The Tree Runner slowed to a stop before one of the trees, touched its bark, and held out a hand palm up to Talia. She hesitantly reached out and grabbed the offered hand, and the world flipped upside down. It dove into the earth. Vision went black and she felt the web of energy beneath them spreading outward. Everything was senses: damp and rough, new and aged. Smells of rich soil, moldy swamps, musky caves, and sandy grasslands filled her nostrils. A wind blew off the smells around her. Talia did not recall what she was and which earth she was in until a familiar apprehension gripped her and recognized the tree whose hand she held. One-Who-Splits-Rock was concerned about Talia looking too far away. It made her stay closer, looking only at the two Tree Settlers before them.

‘Can you speak?’ Talia thought in their direction and a torrent like a storm of thoughts brushed beside her. Yes, they thought her a speck and distained her short-sighted behavior. A thousand years of watching the Forest Shadows grow from roaming hunters into speaking and cultivating creatures slammed into her. A billion deaths they absorbed. She forgot what was happening until One-Who-Splits-Rock blocked the memories like a shield. Those bitter thoughts flowed and swirled around them and rushed past. The Tree Settlers were angry with her.
Talia sensed the thoughts of the Tree Settlers like a powerful river floating around, moving quickly and shifting. The Tree Runner named One-Who-Splits-Rock was like a small stream, and smaller yet were the trickles of the other trees in their vicinity. Tiny wisps of lone realizations like ‘dry’ and ‘too wet’ were whispered by what she realized were lesser flowers and shrubs. Her guide brought her back.
The Settlers were showing her a human from the past. It was a man interacting with early Forest Shadows wearing nothing but their fur. They began speaking with him but eventually a growling mass tore him apart and ate him. Another human came along years later and taught them cultivation but his life ended in a bloody mass on the riverside. More brief lives passed before her ending in violent ends. The Tree Runners occasionally helped the humans or pulled them from the trees, but monsters in the water and the earth and plants ate them too. Soon humans were being taken by something else – primitive Winged Fury that looked more like Eagles from hell.
Just as the fear of the imminent image of her own death came to mind, the Settlers showed her the beauty of things begun from the deaths. Music floating over their canopies by the Winged Fury, rhythms echoing deep into the ground from the drums and dancing feet of Forest Shadows, a passion and joy felt between the creatures and the forest itself. Something pure began to grow among those things living, even between the fights. Appreciation and respect, perhaps something bordering a deeper love which the creatures had never known before. The trees had actively raised these creatures! Those humans had been used to bring select pieces of themselves into the flowing stream. Unfortunately it was ripped out of them.

Her mind was flung by the Settlers into an easterly direction. She flew past the Airel River plains where the Forest Shadows had gathered, through the Folded Mountains where strange beasts hid in the depths while Winged Fury music and wings played upon the winds, and into a dark void. She felt more than saw a land absent of life. Even the life underground had vanished. Gliding through the decaying root system was like hoping into the body of a dead person. The Skeleton Forest, they called it. The feeling was very far off, but the trees had something there for her to do.
The Settlers’ consciousness backed away and One-Who-Splits-Rock brought Talia outward to feel across the lands of the Kurral Forest. Numerous trees were splitting from a growing heat in four focused locations. Talia also sensed a great flooding further upstream in a valley near the base of the Folded Mountains. Small streams of Tree-Runner consciousness were focused in one nearby location, imprisoned among a sea of vibration. They were near the main amphitheater grounds of the festival. Very few of them remained compared to the descriptions she had heard.
‘We’re coming,’ she told the Tree Runners as One-Who-Splits-Rock broke the connection. They found themselves in the dark behind the building once more. Talia had the Tree Runner lead her towards its caged comrades. Her previous commitments were nullified and forgotten. She was yet unaware of the extent the influence or changes of the Tree Settlers’ vision had been on her.

************* Chaaya ************
That stupid woman was much faster than she expected. After arriving at the Flower Gardens to find her target had headed up to Willowcrest, Chaaya stayed east of the city and the amphitheater. When she crossed the river to the east bank, she had to pass her old home. It was clear someone had stripped the inside as piles of cushions, tables, and pots were stacked out front.
While she had been planning to go by without stopping, something odd seemed to tug her to a stop. It was not the pile of neglected items ready to be dispersed. An odd sensation prickled her skin as she walked a ways off to the bone-dry riverbed. The air was hot and she sensed a disturbance before she saw the sudden movements in the distance. A pair of Scales rode away quickly on their mounts with guards in the forest shouting after them.
As a guard broke into view, he yelled at Chaaya.
“Call for reinforcements, messenger! We need fighters!”
“There’s only two,” she said bluntly. “You don’t need help.”
“Lazy…!” The guard muttered before sprinting after the two distant mounts.

*************Torin*************
Varah and Torin stood in a group of about 40 at the small outdoor theater. Among the round in-ground theater stands were warriors, hunters, professional performers. Closer to the rim and among the flowers and trees stood groups of her peers, friends, and some family members.
“Look,” Varah said and pointed towards a rose bush on the upper right side of the bowl. Their mother and little sisters stood waiving to get their attention, along with all their cousins, aunt, and uncle. Farenfil was just sitting down with a cowd of guards who were off duty. Where was their Dad and Talia? They waved back and Varah struck a pose of confidence with his arms to the sides. The next time she turned to look he was making snide comments about the judge panel seated in the front row.
“Think those old people could even do a kick like this? They probably just pick their relatives.” Drums began to beat and Varah grew silent. The first group of five walked out in their waving blue robes to perform. Her group would be the 7th one up, and Varah’s the 16th.

*************Jour*************
“Where is she?” Jour shouted as he grabbed Laour by the apron and pulled him away from a customer. His own strong and threatening action surprised him. Laour went wide-eyed and raised his hands palms up in reaction to his aggression.
“Talia?”
“Yes, Talia!” Laour’s body language portrayed a harmless submissive nature, but his gaze did not back down. To be honest, Jour was counting on his new discovery to be enough to protect Talia. If he convinced others she had contributed to the creation of what she called gunpowder, the Council would have to recognize her as an asset. She would likely be raised to a position that utilized her unusual influences, hopefully within the university. But when Jour’s neighbor sent word that Horun’s soldiers had broken into his home looking for Talia, he realized it might be too late.
“A man named Detsu Que came for her,” Laour said softly so no one would overhear. “One of Council Member 8’s men.”
“What for?”
“They wanted her to cook for them.”
Jour loosened the grip. He would have preferred to introduce her on his own terms, but that Council Member who summoned her was fairly trustworthy. The Council Members were known for their love of the unusual in cooking competitions. Hopefully her skills would help qualify her as one to be respected.
“Horun’s men are looking for her. It’s only a matter of time before they show up here. They’re going to kill her, most likely in the games. I need you to hide her if she comes back. Just keep her out of sight, for a few days if need be.”
Laour nodded in his more accustomed form of communication, and Jour left the shop and rushed into the crowded street towards Parliament.
He was missing one of the most important days of Torin and Varah’s lives for someone who wasn’t even family. Jour slowed for a second wondering what strange discoveries justified such a decision. Talia was not family, but apart from a pack she would not live long. The Tree Settlers had told him as much, as well as that they would use her as they wished until she was gone. It was his duty to the Kurral Forest to keep her alive.
All the same, Jour had left the store and was rounding a corner towards downtown when he concluded that Talia would be safe with the Councilmember, probably safer than anywhere he could take her. Horun’s people would not think to look for her there, and doubtless would be unable to take her away from a Councilmember without good cause. With his mind settled, he decided it was safe to watch the performances and afterwards set off the firework display before tracking down and figuring out what to do with Talia.
When Jour arrived at the arena, Torin and others were standing tall after their performances. She looked powerful and confident, rather like a younger version of her mother. She stepped forward and the judges spoke something he could not hear, but three of the seven handed her large white flowers as she walked to their platform. To his surprise, one handed her a dark purple iris. She was marked as the best of her group by that judge, but the other three found her qualified to graduate. After that, one more handed her a white flower. The only one who did not acknowledge her would not stop her from graduating. It was still a very favorable outcome to pass in her first testing.
In the middle of their distributing flowers and ranking to the other group participants, guards began filing out of the auditorium. Jour snuck up to his wife and put his arm on her shoulder. She reached up and put a hand over his.
“She did well,” Talia’s mother said with a smile.
“Uncle Farenfil!” One of the cousins called out as Uellyn’s brother ran towards them.
“Ho, Zarenik,” Farenfil replied with a short nod to Claws before joining the older group of adults. “Several Scales have been spotted around the perimeter so they are sending our squad out to deal with them. Wish I could stay to see Varah, but it seems they’re getting too close to several residential areas. We’re afraid they may try setting fires while the riverbed is dry. It might take a lot more hands to handle this, so we’re taking volunteers.”
His visiting sister-in-law Raiya’s jaw dropped in shock. “Do you have enough wells for that?”
“I will help,” her husband Garo said.
“Us too,” Claws said, volunteered both him and his brother, Mr. Dirt, who looked up in confusion from the tournament.
“Oh no, you two are staying put,” his mother Raiya said with finality. “Who will defend us if the Scales show up here?”
“He’ll probably cause more trouble if you take him,” Mr. Dirt said with a smirk and flicker of his ears.
“This coming from the incapable one,” Claws muttered under his breath while Farenfil and Garo ran off to the east. As Jour watched their departure, he noticed the messenger who split from the guards and ran northward looked oddly familiar.
“Uncle Jour, is Talia still at the shop?” Mr. Dirt asked. “Do you want me to go get her?”
“She’s busy,” Jour said. Torin would be upset, but it would be better this way. The two of them were getting too attached, which would make it harder on his daughter in the end.
Mr. Dirt continued to eye Jour for a moment before jumping up on the balls of his feet.
“I need to stretch my legs for a bit, maybe I’ll go work with the storytellers in Time Central. I’ll try to be back before Varah’s group is up.” His mother, Raiya, folded her ears back in disapproval.
“What? Uncle Jour and Zarzar are still here. I’m not fighting fires if that’s what you think.”
“Fine-” His mother’s words were barely out of her mouth when he ran off. Claws bristled his hair in irritation but said nothing. Torin ran up to the group looking around at the uncomfortable atmosphere. Uellyn lit up with pride at the sight of her and quickly brushed arms with her.
“That was well met!” Uellyn said. “Have you thought about which profession you’d prefer to train under? Has anyone approached you yet?”
“They don’t do that anymore,” Torin said. “They usually wait a few days and write it out in a letter.” Jour stood behind his wife with a small smile and put a heavy hand on Torin’s arm. “Clan seven training helped calm your nerves, didn’t it?”
Torin shuddered. “Walking through poisonous snake pits? Yes, I think so.” She looked around obviously disappointed.
“I’m not sure which I’d prefer. Maybe something in the crafts trade? I like to be busy with my hands, but something scholarly would be a fun challenge.” Jour passed his palm over her head with a laugh.
“Taking after me, then?”
“Not so sure about that, brother,” Raiya said and stepped forward to grip Torin’s forearms in a warm embrace.
“Well met, Torin. If you are interested in combining crafts with studies, we’d welcome you to come spend time in the Paniri Tribe. We have the best leather workers and are always seeking new innovations.”
Torin’s eyes lit with wonder. “Could I do that?”
“I’m sure you’d be a natural! Come give it a try for a while. I could take you as a trial apprentice until we found the right master for you to work under. We also have the best book binders around if you’d rather go the scholarly route.”
If Uellyn looked shocked by the prospect of her daughter moving away so suddenly, Jour looked as if someone had stepped on his tail. Torin saw the fur on his face stand on end.
“Oh, come now!” Torin protested to his emotional response. “These are good prospects, though rather earlier than expected.”
“Torin,” Uellyn said to her daughter. “You are too early into outings. Though your achievement today was great, it was first level graduation, not second. You must be patient and resist such rash impulses.”
“Raiya,” Jour said addressing his sister, “She may study here under our leather workers, but she is not mature enough to leave yet. She is too proud and impulsive to follow directions well, so do not make such an offer again until her apprenticeship here has completed.”
Torin did little to hide her strong displeasure. Maril, sensing her time had come, ran up in a rush of youthful joviality and jumped on Torin’s side. “Way to go, sis!” Maril shouted. Orli walked over and gave Torin a bouquet of white river flowers she had picked on impulse.
“I appreciate the kind offer and may consider again one day, Aunt Raiya.” Torin bowed to her elders and felt a frustration so encompassing she held the bow far longer than convention commanded.

********* Talia**********

From the back of One-Who-Splits-Rock, Talia caught the blur of the city. They shot through an unfamiliar area with a massive tree in the center of what looked to be a solar dial. There was the bell tower which was chiming on and off in an eerie unfamiliar rhythm. Shops with nearly indifferent customers were all around though a few glanced in her direction. Torches everywhere illuminated the scene. Talia and One-Who-Splits-Rock shot down side streets with peddlers and story tellers. The Tree-Runner dashing through town did not attract as much attention as Talia expected, even with her small cloaked form riding on its back.
She willed the Tree Runner to stop outside the small amphitheater. Figures in the bottom were doing their fighting routines and breaking into sparing fights. She scanned the crowd and nearly gave up before spotting Jour’s family not too far near the rim. Torin was with them, and it seemed all were laughing at something Jour said except for Torin. She seemed quieter than usual, almost angry with strange twitches of her tail similar to that of a feline. She forced a smile but it slipped off her face quickly.
Talia felt as though the void in her life has sucked her in once more. Quickly she pushed it aside for more relevant matters were waiting. She had to find where Jour was storing his gunpowder to fix whatever had dammed the river upstream, but could not bring herself to enter the group. She had forgotten Torin and Varah’s trial. It was not her place to take away their father from them too on this day. Talia was not their family no matter how close they felt. But she needed his gunpowder. Why did it feel like she kept taking from their family?
“We’ll just have to find it on our own.” she said more to herself. The Tree Runner seemed indifferent. It did not have much personality. The trees had apparently not absorbed any semblance of emotions from their eons with humans. She registered a need to move and started toward the firework testing grounds.
“Hey, Tree Runner.” She jerked her head around at the sound of his voice. Mr. Dirt had hurried up the shopping lane after her and stood near enough that he would not be overheard.
“I thought it was you! No one else is as small or weird. What are you doing?”
“I need to heal and protect. You know, super human stuff. Do you know where Jour stored his fireworks?”
“Yeah, it’s in a warehouse across the river. Is that important for healing?” Mr. Dirt asked. Her silent stare answered him. “Weren’t you trying to stop your destroying streak? You are trouble.” He shook his head. “Can’t let you take it. Jour is sending off the first trial fireworks soon.”
“I don’t need all of them, and I might be able to make my own from the materials.” Talia doubted that but pressed with the casualness of faked confidence.
Mr. Dirt’s face broke into a smile baring his sharp teeth glowing in the night. “Fine, I’ll help you. I want to see what you have in mind.”

*************************
Lucien Faierlow was a mute figure, feeling out of place and conspicuous at the Forest Shadow’s main amphitheater. Iniko looked at him sideways from a few paces off.
He was a terrible dancer. Right wings extended and they jumped to the drum rhythm. In the air above them swooped more skilled Winged Fury who didn’t notice the fools joining in from below. How did his brother conceive to sell them as such unless he played the fool? Couldn’t Iniko have come alone?
Lucien missed his brother’s signal again and took to the air a few moments late.
“Haze and spiteful spin-of-it!” Iniko was showing his smile to the crowd and didn’t appear phased by Lucien’s missed cross-drive. His feathers bristled indignantly. Calling no shots, Lucien would always be behind his older brother at this rate.
At the conclusion of the performance they quickly backed off as the main dancers came to land on a final drum beat. The 10 performers noticed their presence for the first time to the sound of roars and applause. Amid the dirty glares from the professionals, Lucien wanted to shrink away but again, Iniko seemed immune. His popularity with the girls attested to his natural talent of rhythm soaring and inability to be cause for any wrongs. Lucien had no reason to be cheerful and merely watched the ground while glancing at the crowd.
“There are three groups of security, green bands on their arms,” Iniko said inclining his head toward one group without turning his eyes.
“How can you tell that’s all?”
“They’ve been focusing on scanning the crowds during the entire performance.” Iniko dropped his feet off the edge of the wooden stage and led his brother on the ground toward their packs of food and travel goods. “It’s easy to tell when one’s audience is captivated. I also spotted a potential trader. He’ll be coming soon, I think.” Iniko pulled the blue silk gown off by loosening the strings holding it on. It slipped off his head and was quickly replaced with a more simple cotton one of gray. “Get changed, enjoy the festival, then catch up with me at the meeting point in about an hour.”
“Theater District near the pond?”
“Yeah,” Iniko said and slid on a belt before tying on a few smaller pouches. He was so loaded, any security guard would be promoted if they caught him with the variety of trade goods he had brought in. How had he never been caught before? Performance equipment hardly accounted for the bags, but no check was made. Iniko banked on fortune and withdrew a seemingly endless supply. Lucien watched him walk away while receiving a few compliments from a group of leather-clad Forest Shadows. Iniko seemed too calm to be a first-time visitor to town.
As Lucien worked on loosening the strings on his own yellow-white clothing to change into a more subdued cream brown, he deduced that Forest Shadows couldn’t tell one Winged Fury from another. Although they had individual scents, Winged Fury were constantly cleaning and their ointments and perfumes often disguised individual scents as well. Lucien hoped none of the audience would recognize him, for he did not want the reputation he had created thus far to follow him.
As irresponsible as his brother was, pitting their livelihood on a gamble this big was deeply upsetting. Whomever Iniko had gotten those spices from likely had a lot riding on their success. They’d know of Lucien as well, no doubt. He needed to get a job and fast or Iniko would get so deep in that one slip up and they would both never come out.
Lucien had begun wandering towards the public confinement area near the pond and Theater District. His stomach rumbled the protest of neglect. Despite the excitement and noise of the crowds all around on his first trip to Kurral City, he felt drained from a stressful succession of days. His reason for coming was borderline desperation, as their victuals had run out along with the remaining money his parents had left them. His schooling was over, for all the benefit it gave him. It was too early for his brother to be at the meeting place but he found he had wandered the edge of the district lost in thought, drained, and hoping for food and vision on the future.

He spotted on the far side of the pond the holding cells of public confinement. Within the metal cross-bars sat half-a-dozen dropping heads of fur, and alongside them in a separate holding cell was a large group of Tree Runners. Lucien felt a creeping sensation in his spine upon noticing they were all awake and staring around. For as disturbing as they were, flocked together and unnaturally alert in the full darkness of a moonlit night, he still might find a way to get one out for a bite.
Lucien came to the cell and all but one of the trees ignored him. The tall one in brown rags held that bored, expressionless stare.
“Could you spare me a branch?” Lucien’s down-covered hand came out exposed from his wing’s cover and touched the cool metal barrier. The square holes were too small to grab anything through. The tree did not speak or move. Lucien walked around to inspect the lock on the cage. It was cruel to tempt festival-going travelers this way. But for all he wanted to eat them, he also wished they’d impart some guidance as their forerunners supposedly had long ago. The lack of Tree Runners on the trip over was part of the reason he was more irked at their placid presence. He wished for food of inspiration and the tangible.
Lucien had no abilities and was not about to try his luck stealing cooked food from vendors in the Forest Shadow village. Thankfully a unique opportunity came running to him for once in the form of a short, exasperated-looking Forest Shadow in a vibrant orange uniform. The new stranger came to look through the pen of Tree Runners.
“No, she’s too smart for that,” he muttered to himself before noticing Lucien and regaining some of his regal bearing. “Moon shine on you, Winged Fury.” The stranger bowed with flourish. “If you have some moments, may I employ your unique talents? I am looking for an unusual Tree Runner. She’s about this tall, and is likely in black robes.”
Lucien perked up at the well-dressed individual’s request.
“I think I can find your tree for you from the air, but do you need her alive or do you just want her removed?” The short man’s eyes bulged.
“Don’t harm her,” he seemed to shudder at the thought. “Just bring her back to me or one of the other orange-clad Council Member 8’s men. We’ll find some generous repayment for you, but please stay discreet,” he said with a cool demeanor. Lucien was all too happy to bring this creature in for a quick reward. And perhaps form some new connections to benefit his current position.

*************************
Talia walked out the archway with the three leather-wrapped cylinders in hand while Mr. Dirt held his breath near the mute Tree Runner around the corner. He was astonished how easy it had been, with one of Jour’s colleagues even offering to escort her if needed, which she declined. Talia had pointed out her being seen at the testing grounds made her a recognizable face of close proximity to Jour. Mr. Dirt would have laughed at the absurdity if he weren’t so confused by his own willingness to go along with the plan.

As the assistant turned back into the warehouse, Mr. Dirt noticed two peculiarly large Forest Shadows watching Talia. They seemed to hesitate before one started towards her. He didn’t know anyone in this town, but ran ahead to catch up to her, slapping a large paw on her shoulder. She kept silent and headed back across the bridge towards the amphitheater. “I think you are being followed,” he said quietly so only she could hear.
“They didn’t buy my act?” she replied.
Mr. Dirt kept looking forward. “I think it’s someone else. They didn’t look like Jour’s scholarly buddies.”
Talia recalled her new Tree friend had vanished. She looked back in time to see he was pinned to the ground by a snarling Forest Shadow. Another saw her look back and shouted, “It’s the other one!”
“I’ll distract them, you go find Jour,” said Mr. Dirt with a gentle growl deep in his throat and turned to face them.
“What is this about?” She heard him say, but did not stay to hear the response.
Disregarding his advice, she headed towards the concentration of Tree Runners. Somehow the locations the Tree Settlers had shown her were ground starkly into her memory, and she knew she needed their help in putting out the fires.
At a pond’s edge Talia slowed to catch her breath and saw several metal bar cages on the far side. From the left, the pens were of black fur in shadows. She passed the mostly withdrawn Forest Shadows behind their metal bars, with a few quiet observers among the bunch. Torches all around the grounds brought light, but the moon was blocked by full-leafed oaks and one draping willow. To her amazement, there did not appear to be any guards on duty. The Tree Runners sat up as she approached, half a dozen tattered-clothed creatures. The pins holding the hinges were her first thought, but without a hammer and good amount of racket that wouldn’t be a likely entry. Foregoing that route, she pulled out the smaller of her two knives and eyed the padlock on the door. She felt nervous as she hoped the inner workings of the mechanism were close enough to pick the lock.
After a few tries holding back the springs and twisting the tip of the blade, she felt the click as the lock gave. Opening the gate, she watched the Tree Runners sprint off without a glance.
“You’re welcome,” she said quietly as the last left. She put the gate back into its closed position and affixed the lock.
All of the Forest Shadows in the cages were watching now. A few growled maliciously, but the majority were slack-jaw dumbfounded and a few pushed to get a closer look. Talia hoped the cloak hid her properly as she sighed deeply and started in a steady jog along the nearby river heading upstream.
Leaving the lights of the festivities to run the river’s edge in the dark, the moon suddenly became more brilliant. As she approached a smaller village of homes away from the noise of the festival, she grabbed a torch along the path and headed left up the dry tributary to her left, stepping more slowly around the bushes and eventually the small rocks where the water was now a trickle.

The walk was full of stumbling on uneven terrain. Sounds of the festivities died away and only recently familiar forest sounds she had heard from afar surrounded her. High-pitch growling and calls of unfamiliar animals was intermittent in the restful rhythm of insect songs. She stopped several times at the sound of larger creatures trampling in the forest, letting many minutes pass after the crunching and ruffling of leaves had drifted further off. Insects grew silent in the presence of unseen predators before resuming again. Having the torch was a small comfort for her sight, but she feared what she might be attracting and felt very exposed in this dark and most wild corner of the woods.
To her great relief she found the dam without being mauled or eaten. An intimidating mountain of rocks held logs in place to hold back the flow. These trees had clearly been stacked with purpose and not by happenstance. Who had built the structure and would they possibly have scouts around? Climbing the edge of the pile slowly with one hand holding the torch, she found from the top a newly formed lake had flooded into the unseen forest on both sides. It stretched far in the distance of the original river, too far to hear if anything was spoken on the other side.
A haunting howl followed by the familiar shrieks of a Forest Shadow far off petrified her. She needed to get moving and get back to civilization, even if those civilized people were stalking in the night and making as much ruckus as the rest. The thought made her actually laugh, which helped steady her hands. She made quick work to set the first firework where the stones met the wood near the center and not too close to the bottom for fear of untamed flooding downstream. Instead of using the roughly welded tube to launch from afar, she set the explosive and lit the long fuse before running as far as she could.
The sound smashed the natural cacophony and splintered wood and smoke spewed from the point. Gushing water burst through the cloud with an unbound fervor to flood the rocky riverbed. The frightful sounds of the night had all gone silent which gave Talia a surprising sense of peace. The water level looked close enough to the edge that a quick escape became most pertinent to avoid undesirable attention.

Jogging along the riverside for the short distance to town, she encountered no curious investigators. They must have been preoccupied elsewhere, as continued sounds of fighting hovered around the borderlands. Talia avoided the path she’d taken before and instead took an unfamiliar road on the other side of the river from the Theater District and the public confinement she’d broken the Tree Runners from.
As she sighted the two massive Tree Settlers who had given her the haunted vision, she felt watched and thought it was the trees. Hopefully this would earn her peace from them and they would leave her alone now. A grey-clad figure she did not recognized ran ahead of her on a bridge and paused to watch the approaching throngs of others. Hid in the cover of a taller crowd, she passed the stranger safely. After a few moments she hurried ahead towards the Council Member’s residence where an unusually unsettled Detsu Que rushed her into the building. She had quickly found a most believable excuse.

“I didn’t realize you could use an outhouse, but you should have asked for one of us!” He admonished her but seemed deeply relieved. Suddenly caught up in his attentions, her black cloak was taken and replaced with an apron and her face and hands were thoroughly scrubbed. She heard the voices and was led directly the earlier ballroom now filled with seated dinner guests. The sea of black fur was spiced with the aged grey. Some conversations silenced as she entered and immediately forgot what she should do. Her brain tuned out. “Talia? Hey, focus on your work. The hard part is done, just continue as we’ve been doing. Ready?” He didn’t wait for a response but his eyes drifted out the window and instead and soon he was rushing back downstairs. Talia’s eyes wandered over the half inattentive crowd. She walked to the staff and kept her face away from the onlookers. Visions of Forest Shadows eating humans kept returning to her mind. There was sweat on her skin and nausea in her throat.
“Does this look better?” One of the pasta-rollers asked. Talia’s brain considered how relaxing working pasta could be and how gross it would be with black fur rolling it, despite the fact everyone wore gloves. The pasta form and thickness certainly had improved, but an excuse would serve her well again.
“Let’s try once more,” she said in a high and cracking voice but her hands soon settled in the flour and rhythm. Laughter lifted over the idle conversations and self-conscious nature said it was at her expense. They would eat her pasta, not her. And she would sleep like a rock after this night.

*************************
The short Detsu Que appeared less regal to Lucien as he side-glanced and then quickly stepped outside the building. The disgust on his face made Lucien feel like a despised beggar. The regal bearing of their previous meeting had all vanished. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here for my generous repayment.”
Detsu Que sneered. “For what? She found her own way back. Would you claim to have delivered her?”
Lucien stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I decided to follow her, and your unusual little Tree Runner has a bit of a criminal streak.” The Forest Runner waved his hand dismissively, then slipped back into the building.
“She wasn’t looking for the outhouses; she broke the Tree Runners out of confinement.” Detsu Que hovered half way through the doorway. “Did you hear that sound just now? She just… destroyed something that was blocking the river. Rocks and trees went flying.”
Detsu Que turned his head slightly.
“I don’t know what she is, but there’s no way she’s a Tree Runner. She’s something very deceptive.”
After a short pause, Detsu Que closed the door. A few moments later he returned with a paper-wrapped grilled maelis coated in a mushroom-pepper sauce.
“Can you give me more information? How did she break the lock? Did anyone else see her?” Lucien told him the best he could from what he had seen since she walked below the willow he was staking towards the confinement area.
“I need to get going, but please put in a good word for me with the Councilman, yes?”
Detsu Que raised an eyebrow.
“Honestly, I am in need of some connections for employment. I’m sure you understand. Fine with relocating, but…”
“What would you have me do? I cannot name you an ambassador or setup some trading route. Negotiate with a shop owner if you want, but keep your filthy spices away from here. Now,” he pulled out a small pouch. “Here is a small sum of appreciation. I trust your silence on this matter is understood? Please refrain from flying on your way out.”
Lucien bowed and accepted the substantially weighted pouch. He checked on the contents and was astonished to find dozens of gold coins, going down into another flourished bow of gratitude.
“Call on me, Dark Brother, for any of your future-” The door shut before he could finish, “needs.”
Disrespected, most certainly. But reflecting as he began greedily eating the food moments later, the outcome was more lucrative in the end, and the food of a more refined quality than if he’d simply tried to eat her. Had he tried, he might not have made it out with both wings attached.

*******************
Chaaya pushed aside Tili Meu’s blows like a child. The woman’s larger bearing seemed misbalancing for her limbs, and eventually she resigned to a heated anger mixed with despair with no seeming means of dissipating. Her husband was fathering another woman’s children and had decided to leave home and move in with them. She let Tili Meu land a few weak blows. She deserved to hit something, though she didn’t seem capable without someone else’s intention of it.
Tili Meu signed that the message was received and went back inside her sister’s florist shop. The sign in the window suddenly flipped to say “Closed.” Chaaya was left standing at the door, but her mind was wandering east of Willowcrest. She’d been hearing the boarder guards fighting skirmishes on the cliffs over the neighborhood. A few fires had been burning the grasslands just east of her, but this area was particularly well-supplied with a fire brigade fed by the lake just above town. The worrisome part was the number of guards she’d seen head out were not returning.
Could it be they had need to send a message? Normally the border guards would assign one of their own to carry messages. But none had returned. Her heart went out in concern for her old friends of the borderlands. She held her journal under one arm and started walking east.
Through the smoke she saw nothing but charred grass. It looked like a fire had recently been put out. At the border of the forest, though, lay the bodies of dozens of Forest Shadows guards. None of them stirred. Partially hidden by the border shrubs of the forest, on the upper ground of an incline, were a dozen mounted Scales on sloth-back. One tan sloth side-stepped slightly. The rider’s gauntlet reflected moonlight as he reigned the creature still. Though two maces and a sword were visible, the line did not progress forward but stayed hidden in the smoke and shadow. If their mission was not to attack, were they here as a diversion? She had heard of these observers, but this was the first she’d seen of them holding their ground.

Chaaya slunk away before she was seen and started towards the guard house, instincts and a long forgotten hint of fear taking over where her indifference had settled.
Near the guard house, Jour and his team were setting up their experimental fire show. While it hardly seemed prudent to be starting more fires, it was not her problem. Their people regularly practiced controlled burns around the village and the sudden reemergence of water in the riverbed confirmed that fate would have their backs.
Outside the guard house, a section chief was pointing three more men in the direction she had come from.
“Stop!” She called out with raised fists to the guards heading up the hill towards the smoke. The section chief, a young and inexperienced fellow named Fetto who had no business leading men, strode over to intercept her.
“There are at least half a dozen mounted Scales up the hill,” Chaaya said, “but they have the upper ground under smoke and tree cover.”
“Messenger, we have our own men, but thank you…” the section chief Fetto cut off and looked her over. “Chaaya?” He smirked with an almost victorious air of superiority. This imbecile was leading his men to a pointless slaughter, and he took the time to gloat over his position?
“They are not pushing forward,” Chaaya continued. “There is no need to send your men into a pointless slaughter. I think they might be a diversion since they’re aggressive. We already have enough fallen people up there.”
“I’m not leaving armed Scales on my boarder,” the section chief replied.
“Then why don’t you just send a scout to watch their movements?”
He looked at her a moment as if weighing her words, then seemed to dismiss the thought and sent his men forward.
“Burn you!” She fired back.
“You don’t command my people. Far be it from me to trust you with leading,” Fetto shot back. “I think the Tour clan learned that the hard way. Glad to think you won’t be leading anyone else.” The nape of her neck bristled and she bared her teeth at him with a hiss. He stepped back from her in shock before regaining his composure.
This soft footed section chief was a shame to his clan, but he knew he had soundly beaten her down in her own failure. It was hard to hold your neck up straight with the knowledge of your greatest shame known by all.

*******************
Horun paced around the hill north of Kaylila Knoll. There were 50 guards and volunteers making sure the last of the fires across the Mist Mountain River were completely extinguished. While this had been the latest of the fires they had learned about, the watchman of the grain windmill had seen a Tree Runner much earlier grab a pail and head off north towards the apple orchard on the other side of the river. The locals of Kaylila Knoll quickly followed suit and were able to start containing the blaze hidden in the mist of the orchard.
The Tree Runner had alerted them to the danger, but unfortunately it was not to be seen again. Undoubtedly it had been taken as well in the ongoing raid. What at first was a great inconvenience of lost tree stock was beginning to turn troublesome. Horun knew while growing up farming with his family how the health of the crops and earth depended greatly on the Tree Runner population maintaining the plants as they found them. They never planted crops themselves, but they seemed to whisper to the plants they found and the ground itself. No Forest Shadow truly understood the nature of their abilities, though many farmers whispered to their own crops in hopes of having a similar effect. Everyone considered it the secret of a good harvest.
Normally the Tree Runners would replenish with multiple new stock coming from the forest every few weeks, normally about 20 to 30 of them. But for the last several months, not a single young one had been sighted around the Kurral Forest. People had noticed, but did not show as much concern as Horun did. Now that the older stock of trees were down to nearly single digits and beginning to settle, the problem was beginning to become apparent. But why had the Tree Runners stopped producing, and why were the Scales so greedy to take them all?
“Horun Iaro,” a messenger said in a run. He stopped to catch his breath beside Horun, while the Guard Commander told his partner to stand down. Why had the other front sent a formal messenger and not one of their own?
“Speak,” Horun said to the man, though he was more of a lanky boy who had not quite grown into his adult coat yet. The messenger was out of breath as he bowed with one hand over his chest.
“There is a message from your men of the silver ring,” he said while gulping air. The code was for those watching for his prey, the unsettling Tree Runner that caused his hairs to rise.
“What news do they have?” Horun asked with complete focus.
“They found a Forest Shadow named Ashiki who is suspected of aiding your target. He’s of the Paniri Tribe.”
Horun’s partner rubbed his brow, while Horun himself asked in disbelief, “A Paniri?” The leather craftsmen were known for causing trouble, but this was the fifth report of their trouble-making in two days! He couldn’t see the connection between an outsider and his prey. Did fate just throw another Paniri at him to mock his efforts?
“Yes. They are questioning him now, but they haven’t learned anything useful yet, sir.”
“Thank you,” Horun said to the messenger and signed the messenger’s book for delivery received. “Please keep me posted if they do learn something.”
“Do you not wish to question him yourself?” The messenger asked. He was actually reading an addition to the text. Sloppy timing.
Horun hardly had the time to visit confinement, but if his men were already interrogating, it may help tire the man down. At the same time, he wanted to be present among the guards for Jour’s demonstration of his latest discovery of sky fire. The Scales encounters on their borders had increased from roughly 10 to at least 30 since those experiments began.
“Perhaps later, but probably not.”
The messenger bowed out properly with the hand over chest salute before jogging off on all fours. It was faster, but not dignified to do so in uniform unless in battle. At that point, clothing and manners were more detrimental against the native instincts.

*******************
“So you’re the one Detsu Que was telling me about! I’m quite pleased to make your acquaintance,” the old Forest Shadow rested his hands on his cane and bowed his head lightly to Talia. This was her employer, the Councilmember 8, who asked his assistant to find her. The hairs on his head that were not streaked with grey were still dulled by time until only a memory of black could be seen.
“The honor is all mine, Councilmember,” Talia replied. “Thank you for this opportunity.” She did not want to be here and would never have accepted it if he had offered, but for as sluggish as her limbs were starting to feel under the hours of adrenaline rush, the experience of seeing how the other half lived and interacting with adults outside of the meat market and Fen household was a good change.
They looked up as the newly arrived chefs and star performers of the evening, a husband and wife duo named the Karhekentos, began their next act. They had skewered an assortments of meats on a circular wheel, rolled it across tables of sauces, and set it on fire with a magnificent blaze. Several tables applauded, including the Councilmember and his entourage. By comparison, her bustling in the kitchen looking like a fool was probably a disappointment to the guests.
“They’re amazing,” Talia said with genuine awe. This was a dancing, balancing, coordinated performance of a meal. What would the food taste like? “Sorry my performance wasn’t very entertaining.”
“Novelty, ella,” The Councilmember said while continuing to watch the chefs’ assistance distribute the still smoking food. “We expect this from them, but your performance like your flavors could not be expected.” Her face flushed red as she recalled the memory.
“You mean my disaster of an act? I was nothing but a joke to them,” she said with quiet sobriety. It was not simply their mocking laughter that weighed heavy, but being the attention of too many eyes caused her to freeze up and stumble, which fed the initial problem.
“That’s because they don’t know what you’re capable of. If they were not laughing, they would be afraid, and I would not want to be in a room with so many enemies.”
Talia looked at the Councilmember, who was studying her with a disarming smile.
“I am not your enemy,” she said defensively.
“I hope not. Certainly not mine at any rate!” he laughed. “We will see. You can go,” he said and waved for Detsu Que who was standing nearby. He bowed to the Councilmember while Talia waved and said an awkward, “thanks again,” before walking backwards and turning away on her heel. She heard another short chuckle from Councilmember 8 as they left the room.

The night had grown quite still and dark as the earlier breeze had died. Glass-encased lanterns along the roadway glowed brightly and foot traffic had increased greatly for the midnight meal. The Winged Fury had grown more scarce, but she could see people positioned along the river’s edge – now restored to perhaps half its regular flow. Those on blankets with their families or friends were eating street kabobs, baked sweet potatoes, and fried breads with spicy seasonings and vegetables inside. The young were much louder and jumped up to run about, while adults seemed content for the days of leisure from daily routine. Talia had noticed some farmers still with their long protective leggings and their boots resting beside their blankets. The moonlight illuminated those in the grasslands and lightly forested areas beyond.

Detsu Que seemed oddly silent. Perhaps he was just quiet of reflective, Talia thought. This whole evening seemed so beautiful, and yet so wrong. She missed her twin brother. Had he appeared here now, that nearly identical male version of herself with the perfect quip for every occasion, they would have laughed their heads off at the absurdity of it all. He was having a hard time near the end, though he never showed it. Talia wish she could learn his secret to bear silently and with a smile when your whole world dies around you. What if she had stayed instead of leaving it behind?
All hands were on deck at the shop, and the store was so full they had to push past customers to get indoors. If Detsu Que’s stature had only been as prominent as his status, they would not have struggled as hard. The odd couple of Mar and Renghe were passing off meat from the back to the chopping block in two-handed portions, and awkward Porir was working the register. Poor Laour was still standing after his day shift and looked about ready to fall off his stepping ladder as he unhooked several hanging animals from the front window.
“Thank you for walking me back,” Talia said and quickly headed to the back to change out of her black cloak in privacy. When she came out in her apron, he had thankfully left. She came to help Laour hang up the replacements, watching the salty blood running down his arms. He looked shock at the sight of her. Without a word, he climbed down the ladder, grabbed her arm roughly, and took her to the back of the shop. It was less than a minute before Mar followed them in, double checking the doorway before letting the curtain doorway fall.

“Did it go well? You look terrible,” Mar commented.
“Thanks,” Was all Talia said. “At least they got a good laugh and we got paid.”
Mar nodded as if that was the best she’d hoped for.