By dawn the mist had lifted from the lake, leaving the air crisp and glittering with dew. Nyra tucked the glowing pearls safely into her satchel, and after a quick breakfast (shared reluctantly with their midnight visitor, who slipped away before sunrise), the group set off toward the bustling town of Willowford. The guild had marked their next stop there—supplies, rest, and a report to file.
Willowford was alive with noise. The market stretched across cobbled streets in a riot of colors—striped tents, banners fluttering overhead, hawkers calling out deals for everything from sugared fruits to dubious miracle tonics. Children darted between stalls chasing squealing pigs, and jugglers tossed bright balls into the air to lure coin from passing travelers. A group of fire‑eaters roared flame into the sky while tumblers flipped over crates.
Puff immediately perked up at the sight of candied nuts roasting over a brazier. He squeaked insistently, tugging Nyra's braid with his stubby claws. "No, Puff, we can't spend all our coin on snacks," Nyra scolded gently, though her smile betrayed her amusement.
"Why not?" Puff squeaked indignantly. "Snack is life!"
Tovan folded his arms. "For once, I agree with the witch. We need to be careful—markets like this are notorious for pickpockets."
"Or fun," Nyra countered, already drifting toward a stall selling bolts of dyed fabric. Biscuit fluttered onto her shoulder and squeaked approvingly, clearly imagining himself a princely cape from the scraps.
Sprout, however, slithered suspiciously along the cobbles, his vines swaying like whiskers testing for trouble. "Too noisy," he muttered. "Trouble hiding."
It didn't take long.
Nyra had just finished admiring an embroidery stand when shouts erupted nearby. A merchant came barreling past, arms flailing. Behind him, three rough‑looking boys chased after, their cloaks patched and hoods drawn. One carried a sack squirming and squealing as though something alive was trapped inside.
"Help! Thieves!" the merchant cried.
Button blocked the path with a heavy thud of his paws. The boys skidded to a halt, staring up at the enormous bear. "Uh oh."
Nyra stepped forward, eyes narrowing. "What's in the bag?"
The tallest boy sneered. "None of your business, witch." He tugged on the sack, which squealed louder. A furry snout poked through—a baby fox, eyes wide with panic.
Nyra's heart squeezed. "That's definitely my business."
Plushmancer's Justice
"Biscuit!" Nyra called.
With a gleeful squeak, the little manticore launched himself at the thieves, wings flapping furiously. Puff spat a warning burst of flame that singed the boys' cloaks. Sprout whipped vines across the cobbles, tripping one flat on his face.
The boys yelped, stumbling back. "What are these things?!"
"Family," Nyra answered simply, threading her needle with silver glimmer. A quick flick, and her thread lashed around the sack, yanking it free from their grip and floating it safely into her arms.
The baby fox popped its head out, blinking up at her. It yipped once before wriggling deeper into the bag as though it knew it was safe.
Tovan sighed, dragging one boy upright by the collar. "Can't we go one day without you attracting chaos?"
Nyra pouted. "They started it."
Puff puffed up proudly. "Victory snack now?"
Guards quickly rounded up the would‑be thieves. The grateful merchant bowed to Nyra repeatedly, pressing a pouch of coins into her hands despite her protests. "You've saved my livelihood! That kit was worth more than the stall itself!"
Nyra glanced at the fox cub now curled comfortably in Biscuit's wings and smiled faintly. "It's worth more than coin. It's a life."
The market crowd, having watched the commotion, erupted in applause and laughter. Children begged to pet Button, who stood stoically until Nyra gave a small nod—only then did he kneel to let a child scramble up his back. Another boy tried climbing without permission, and Button gave a deep rumble until Nyra nodded again; only then did he allow it. The crowd roared with delight.
Meanwhile, jugglers shoved Tovan into their ring‑toss stall. "You look like a champion, sir!" they cheered. Tovan scowled. "I am not—" A ring landed perfectly on the peg, winning him a stuffed chicken doll. Nyra and the plushies cheered as though he'd slain a dragon.
"Champion of toys!" Puff squeaked.
Biscuit cackled. "The hero of chickens!"
Tovan groaned, ears flaming red. "I hate all of you."
By sunset, the chaos had settled, but the group left Willowford with fuller coin purses, new friends, and a reputation that trailed in whispers: the girl with living toys who stitched miracles from thread.
Nyra only laughed when she heard it. "Living toys? That's underselling you, isn't it?" she teased her companions. Puff squeaked proudly, Biscuit flapped with smugness, Sprout gave her a vine hug, and even Button rumbled low, as though agreeing.
That night, the group sat around the fire, the fox cub dozing with Biscuit as Puff licked sticky sugar from his paws. Tovan stared into the flames for a long while before speaking quietly.
"Witch… no. Nyra. I've been traveling with you for days, and all I know is that you can sew life into thread. That's not exactly normal. Where did you come from?"
Nyra's smile faded. She held the baby fox closer, as though bracing herself. "A small village, far from here. It wasn't special… just fields, streams, neighbors who knew each other's names."
"And Button?" Tovan pressed.
She glanced at the great bear, who rumbled softly as though listening. "I stitched him when I was little. He was meant to be a toy. But when I held him, he opened his eyes. My mother said it was old magic—older than she understood. She wasn't afraid. She told me it was a gift."
Tovan's brows furrowed. "Your mother supported you, then?"
Nyra nodded, her voice softening. "She told me to keep Button safe. That he'd keep me safe in return. And he always did… until—" Her words caught, eyes glimmering in the firelight.
"Until what?" Tovan asked gently.
"Disaster came," she whispered. "Fire. Screams. Shadows that tore everything apart. I don't even know who lived. I only know Button carried me away. We ran and never looked back."
Silence stretched. Puff pressed close to her cheek, Biscuit rested a paw on her arm, and even Sprout coiled vines protectively around her ankles.
Tovan cleared his throat, awkward but sincere. "I… didn't mean to pry. I just— You're different, Nyra. Stronger than you act. I needed to understand why."
Nyra managed a small smile. "Now you know. My home is gone, but I'm still sewing. Still making family. That's enough."
For a while, they only listened to the crackle of the fire. Then Tovan spoke again, more carefully this time. "Those shadows you mentioned. Do you know what they were?"
Nyra shook her head slowly. "No. Only that they weren't natural. They moved like smoke but struck like blades. I've never seen their like again."
Tovan frowned, troubled. "I have. Once. During a border raid. We called them Veilfiends—spawn of some deeper curse. If they destroyed your village, then… someone unleashed them."
Nyra's eyes widened, fear flashing in the firelight. "So it wasn't an accident."
He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "No accident. Someone wanted your village gone."
Nyra shivered, hugging the fox kit close. Button rumbled low, his golden eyes glinting as though he too remembered. Puff squeaked angrily, as if swearing vengeance on shadows themselves.
After a long silence, Nyra spoke again, voice steadier. "Then maybe my stitching isn't just a gift. Maybe it's meant to fight back. If those things return, I'll be ready."
Tovan studied her carefully, then gave a short nod. "You're stronger than you know. But you won't face them alone. Not while I'm here."
Nyra blinked at him, startled by the earnestness in his voice. For once, he didn't look like the grumpy mercenary mocking her every step. He looked… resolute.
She smiled faintly. "Then I'll hold you to that."
That night, the baby fox curled beside the fire, already stitched a tiny ribbon collar by Nyra's careful hands. Puff declared him "Snack Junior," which Nyra vetoed immediately, much to Biscuit's glee.
But long after the others slept, Nyra lay awake, staring at the flames. Tovan's words lingered in her mind. Someone wanted your village gone.