Welt idled in the queue for the better part of an hour. He heard chattering in amongst the crowd as he waited. Mostly, the idle chatter consisted of people counting stock or deciding on market tactics for selling their goods. There was some chatter about the Queen as well, though. Something about her visiting the Harvestlands soon?
Welt stood silent amongst the chatter, watching the sun set on the West, his left, as it descended past the horizon, into the Oathsome's embrace. The moon arose to take its place in the sky, and so came its mossy scent, mixing with the air around Endsham.
The scarf danced a little gentler with the rise of the moon, and its faint snowy scent seemed to give way to the moon's own aroma, as if calming it down.
Tracing the two bodies in the sky as the queue inched forward, Welt's mind continued to wander about the events of the past few days.
"I hope he's okay..."
"Hm?"
A burly, wide-backed man turned around, a stack of pelts swaying on his shoulders.
Realizing he'd spoken aloud, Welt quickly apologized, half-stumbling over his words.
"No worries, kid. It's good to hear someone worrying about another in this season. We farmers can get quite self-centered when it comes time to turn a profit."
"...Thank you, Sir."
The old man chuckled deeply, warmly, and gave a rustle of Welt's hair. Looking at his hand, raising an eyebrow, and presumably wiping the dirt and muck from it onto his clothes, the man continued.
"I'm no Sir, kid. Just your average trapper, name's Bark."
"Like a tree?"
"Exactly. My father, he was not the best with names, but wanted something that sounded stong. He told me once that biting tree bark was the only thing to break his teeth, so he named me for its sake."
"My father... is pretty bad with names, too. Welt."
"A bump?"
"Exactly. I had one" Welt pointed to his forehead, where the supposed welt had been. "And he saw it."
Bark, as his name might suggest, barked with a powerful laugh. The kind that pushed its way through the murmurings of the queue, and caused many to pay their conversation some interest.
Welt didn't enjoy the prescence of new onlookers, so he lowered his head a bit. But, not allowing his new conversation partner to retreat, Bark kept going.
"Say, kid, you look awful cold in that... lack of get up there. Why no cloak? Or even a tunic? Trouble with your woman?"
Welt shook his head profusely.
"Nothing like that. I ran into some trouble on the way here and lost most of what I was carrying."
"Hmm... it's dangerous travelling alone this time of year. There's many less fortunate than yourself, at least you made it here alive."
Welt nodded slowly, not sure what to say to continue. Some of those nearby seemed to nod in acknowledgement, too.
Do they have nothing better to do?
The answer, of course, was no. Queueing was boring, and so the people nearby were eavesdropping to help pass the time. He couldn't exactly blame them, but was still unhappy.
Welt shivered a little in the wind, the disappearance of the Sun's warmth would make the wait feel a lot longer.
Suddenly, a heavy weight pressed upon Welt's shoulders, wrapping him in warmth.
A soft pelt wrapped itself around his torso, protecting him from the wind.
Bark, whose stack of pelt's was now one shorter, grinned widely.
"You can borrow that until I get through, Welt, kid. It's what they are for, anyways."
"Thank you again, Bark."
"Don't mind it, kid. Seriously. It's not like you wearing it for an hour will mess with the selling price."
Welt pulled the pelt tighter around his body and warmed up a bit.
He noticed people around him nodding and smiling among themselves, exchanging warm glances now that the conversation ended.
No. Do they really have nothing better to do?
Welt felt some rustling on the back of the pelt, and some scratching on his neck, as something was pulled from the pelt's underside: a tag looped with some simple string.
It had been Bark's hand rustling the pelt. Why do that, though? It wasn't like the tag was uncomfortable on his skin, it was completely unnoticable.
Welt look at the man, who now seemed to have eyes moving about the surrounding crowd, looking at the people whose attention their exchange had caught. He shifted a little, putting a labelled sign with the words "Bark's Warm Pelts" carved into it upon his shoulder.
Is he...?
The man whistled inconspicuously, twiddling the sign as he shifted his feet to turn himself gradually in a circle, making sure all the onlookers saw it.
He is!
Bark, it seemed, had used their exchange as an advertisement for his pelts. He'd drawn people's attention so he could get some of them, no matter how few, to remember the name of his branded goods after they enter the gates. Sure enough, looking at the tag on his pelts, they all said the same thing as the sign.
I've been had!
Welt was dumbfounded. How had been taken advantage of before even stepping foot in the city? Sure, it was a situation that helped him: he was warm now, after all. But it still felt like he'd been cheated somehow.
Maybe Drun was right about Endsham. Or, maybe Welt was right about the Harvestlands?
A piece of him still wished they were both wrong.
As the queue moved, Welt kept the warmth in the treacherous pelt and returned to his original train of thought, this time internally.
I hope he's alright.
He was thinking about the Priest, Gahan, whom he'd met at the bandit ambush and travelled with for a day before being separated by the black bird at the Fog.
Welt had found no trace of the man when he'd awoken. He might've gone back for him if the creatures in the Fog weren't so insidious, and so kept his own safety a priority for once.
Perhaps, he was taken by something similar. Swallowed by a Dreamhost completely, or eaten by one of the wolves that hunted in the Fog.
Welt wan't sure, but worried for the man who'd called himself Welt's brother. He'd never had a brother, and while Gahan wasn't someone he would ever claim as his sibling, blood-relation or not, it was nice to hear such a phrase come out of someone's mouth.
It was just then that a bustle of armoured men and women went past the queue, dragging a man in a tattered black robe, with brown and green adornments on it. He looked just like Gahan, with the same messy ginger hair.
And when they made eye contact, the man's eyes widened a little.
"That's hiiiiiimmmmm! Guards! Brother Welt! The one I told you about! There he issss!"
Welt spun on the spot, hiding his face in the queue. However, it was no use. Gahan had pointed straight at him, the damned drunk, and all the onlookers from his "heartwarming" conversation with Bark were staring straight at him.
And, as if to finalize the situation, Bark's large hand slowly pulled the now completely warm pelt back onto his shoulder, glancing at Welt from the side.
Everyone within about 20 queue spots was looking straight at him, guards included.
The wind was so cold.
I hate this place.