Coppelia had already found enough of the 'gems' she had promised to the children inside the storm wall on the riverbank.
The small leather pouch was filled with smooth, natural stones of various colors, their gentle luster visible even in the dim light.
Next was the drawing she had promised the young bard, Himmel. Gunnhildr mentioned that there happened to be a highly skilled individual among the refugees who could help.
'He is not a professional artist, but his craftsmanship is by no means inferior to one.' She led Coppelia and Columbina to a corner of the camp.
To Coppelia's surprise, the 'artist' Gunnhildr spoke of was none other than Walker, the old man who had built the exquisite ice house and could not lift his left arm.
Walker understood their purpose. When he heard that the gift was for a child inside the storm wall who had never seen the true sky, a solemn expression appeared on his wrinkled face.
He didn't ask many questions, just nodded, a glimmer of understanding and sympathy flashing in his cloudy eyes.
He deftly found a piece of tanned, light-brown animal hide—smooth to the touch and relatively flat—and fixed it to a wooden board to serve as a canvas.
Next, he took a small piece of charcoal and, using only his nimble right hand, began to sketch quickly and accurately on the hide. The lines were fluid, not at all stiff despite his age and physical limitations.
Once the outline was complete, he set down the charcoal and picked up a long, thin iron skewer that had been heated red-hot in the campfire.
He held his breath, concentrating, his wrist moving steadily as he carefully touched the scorching tip to the animal hide.
With a faint sizzle and the smell of scorching, lines ranging from dark brown to black appeared on the hide with his movements, gradually forming a pattern.
He worked as if guided by a divine hand, the entire process flowing seamlessly without any hesitation or revision.
When the final stroke was made, a vivid pyrography drawing of a soaring eagle came to life before them.
The eagle's posture was powerful, its feathers richly detailed, and its gaze sharp, as if it would burst from the hide and soar into the heavens at any moment.
Coppelia looked at the drawing and mentioned her original idea: 'The technique is exquisite. But is there a way to color the background blue?'
Himmel wanted to see a bird soaring in the sky, but this drawing had only the bird, no sky.
Old Walker shook his head with a hint of regret. 'There are no blue pigments here...'
'Everyone is busy surviving day to day,' Gunnhildr confirmed. 'We rarely have the leisure for painting, so we haven't specifically made or stored any pigments.'
Coppelia expressed her understanding and carefully put away the pyrography drawing.
'It's alright, this gift is precious enough as it is. Once the issue with the Lawrence Clan is resolved, I'll ask them if they have a way to find blue pigment.'
...
Night fell, and the campfires were lit once more.
Just then, a small cyan stream of light descended from the sky. The wind spirit Venti landed lightly before Coppelia and the others, carrying several feathers around its small, luminous wings.
These were the very bird feathers Coppelia had previously asked it to find.
The feathers were primarily a deep brown, darkening towards the base to a near-inky black.
The shaft of each feather was straight and strong, the barbs on either side arranged tightly and neatly, with edges curving almost perfectly.
In the flickering light of the campfire, the feathers' surface was not merely a single shade of brown but shimmered with a metallic luster of bronze and even violet-gold. They were not colorful, yet they possessed a natural majesty and nobility.
These were the feathers of the highest-flying, most powerful hawks and falcons.
With Venti's arrival, it quietly stirred the power of the wind.
Around the camp, the biting wind that had been swirling about was replaced by a gentle, steady current of air.
This current circulated around the camp, locking the warmth from the bonfires within the gathered crowd's area. The surrounding temperature noticeably rose.
Columbina showed a great deal of interest in these feathers.
She took one from Coppelia's hand, gently stroking its surface with her fingertips, feeling its strange texture and luster, her head slightly bowed as if examining it closely.
...
During the earlier migration, Venti had spent most of its time listening to the refugees' stories and legends, so Coppelia hadn't found a suitable opportunity for a deeper conversation.
Now that they had some relatively free time together, she decided to resolve a question that had been lingering in her mind for a long time.
'Venti,' Coppelia began, her voice calm, 'we've been traveling for some days now. But we've only seen one wind spirit along the way—you. Don't tell me... you're the only wind spirit in the world?'
The wind spirit Venti did a happy little spin in the air and replied, 'There's more than just me! I have lots of companions. It's just that we don't usually appear directly before humans. We mostly hide in the treetops, under the eaves, or just watch from afar on the wind.'
The answer was reasonable enough. But Coppelia had another, more pressing question.
Why was the first wind spirit they encountered precisely the 'Venti' who would one day become the Anemo Archon? She found it hard to believe this was mere luck; it was difficult to say that the 'Measure of the Sun and Moon and the Thousand Winds' hadn't had a hand in it.
She chose her words carefully and probed, 'Venti, have you ever seen the 'Lord of Time'?'
Gunnhildr, who was organizing supplies nearby, immediately looked over with interest upon hearing the question. She too was curious about the god who protected—or at least nominally protected—the Lawrence Clan.
Venti paused for a moment as if recalling, then said with certainty, 'I have indeed heard that title from some humans. But I have never seen a god related to 'time'.'
Coppelia leaned forward slightly, adding more specific details: 'She looks like a young girl, with long gray hair and a huge golden ring floating behind her back, surrounded by decorations like the markings and hands of a clock...'
Venti denied it again without hesitation. 'Nope, never seen her.'
Hearing this, Coppelia sat up straight. Her doubts were not entirely dispelled, but at least she couldn't get any direct proof from Venti.
It was only then that she noticed Gunnhildr beside her, looking at her with an expression mixed with surprise and inquiry.
Columbina also looked at her, as if about to ask something, but Gunnhildr spoke first.
Gunnhildr asked tentatively, 'You... you've seen the 'Lord of Time'? But you've never mentioned it before.'
'I have,' Coppelia's reply was simple and direct.
Beside her, Columbina asked softly, 'Where did you see her?'
Coppelia shook her head, her tone firm. 'That is something that cannot be spoken of...'
Gunnhildr understood. When it came to secrets on the level of gods, knowing less was often safer. She nodded, not probing any further, and suppressed her curiosity.
Upon hearing this, Columbina immediately fell silent. But the next moment, she suddenly reached out and grabbed Coppelia's arm.
___
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