The cool morning breeze drifted in through the open window.
Faelan was slick with cold sweat, shuddering, though not entirely from the cold.
He opened his eyes.
He was still at the outpost, lying on the small bed.
He sat up and stretched his limbs.
"Good morning," he said as he got out of bed.
No reply came.
He went to get some water. After a drink, he noticed the chilling wind against his skin.
Light clouds blocked out the morning rays.
He looked around.
Ria was nowhere to be found.
He quickly went to the window.
There she was, sitting atop the short wall outside.
How'd she get there?
He glanced at the still-locked door, the key resting on the table where he had left it.
His gaze returned to her.
Only then did he notice she wasn't alone.
Beside her lay a wulc, limp and lifeless.
He could make out bloodstains on her cloak.
They didn't appear to be hers.
"Ria, are you okay?" he called out.
"Fae, you're finally awake. The door's locked, I can't get in," she replied, standing up with a smile and waving at him.
Faelan waved back, shock etched across his face.
He approached the table and grabbed the key.
Opening the door, he found Ria standing right in front of it, a warm smile on her face.
She walked past him, lugging the wulc behind her.
"We can eat this, right?"
"Uh, yes," Faelan replied. "You seem to be feeling better."
"Really? You can tell?"
Ria headed up the short flight of stairs in the corner where the charcoal stove sat.
She dropped the wulc beside it.
Faelan lit the stove and began removing its feathers.
It was a rather large ave.
From its head to its talons, it easily reached beyond his waist, not to mention its wingspan.
Multiple breaks ran through the wings, and its neck appeared crushed.
Ria watched without a word as he plucked the feathers and cut the bird into smaller pieces, removing the inedible parts.
The pot available was nowhere near large enough to hold even half of it, so he boiled the meat in batches.
There was still some salt at the outpost, left behind by whoever had stayed there previously.
He added it along with some of the vegetables they had left.
"We're lucky. This one has a lot of fat, so it should come out well."
He stirred the pot with a bent spoon.
"A little less spice than I'd like, though."
Ria continued watching him in silence, barely moving.
"How'd you know how to do all of that?"
"You mean the gutting or the cooking?"
Faelan glanced over his shoulder.
"I assumed parents usually taught that."
"Parents, huh?"
"Although most of it was taught to me by someone else."
He stirred the pot again.
"Have you never cooked before?" Faelan asked.
"No," she replied.
"This is the first time I've seen it up close."
"..."
Faelan stopped stirring for a moment.
"It's almost ready. Let me go find some plates."
He went through the cupboard and eventually found two cracked bowls.
"This should do."
He set them on the table and served the food.
Faelan felt full after his second serving.
Ria somehow made it to five.
Almost nothing remained by the time she finished.
Together, they carried what they could outside and threw the rest into the savannah for scavengers to finish off.
They arrived in Dorvel late in the day, the sun still hidden behind the clouds.
They passed through the gates.
The guards stationed there looked at him with puzzled expressions.
Faelan thought perhaps they believed he was dead.
Or maybe it was because of how his scarf had changed.
Or perhaps it was Ria, which was usually the case.
It wasn't just the guards.
The townspeople wore the same expressions.
"In broad daylight."
"I thought he'd be branded."
"The scarf's gone bad too."
Faint murmurs drifted among the crowd.
Usually, it was Ria who drew attention.
Right now, however, he was the center of it.
"Why are they saying all that stuff?" Ria asked, surprised.
"I don't know."
Faelan hadn't expected a welcome party, but this wasn't what he had in mind either.
"Faelan."
A familiar voice called out.
The man was broad-shouldered, with a weathered face lined by years of sun and wind. A dark beard framed his face beneath a pair of brown eyes.
He looked to be in his forties.
"Didn't think I'd see you around here again."
"Jarek," Faelan replied.
"It's been months. Where have you been?"
"I should be asking you that."
Jarek laughed.
"Got back last week. Heard you were out on a delivery."
He glanced toward the passing townspeople.
"Now, I'm no messenger, but you sure took your sweet time."
"Why don't you and..."
His eyes shifted to Ria before returning to Faelan.
A grin spread across his face.
"...your friend come with me? I'll treat you to some drinks."
"Oh, Jarek, this is Ria. Ria, Jarek."
Faelan gestured between them.
"I wish I could, but I've got to see Mr. Lior.
He's probably going to strangle me for taking so lo—"
Jarek threw an arm around Faelan's shoulder.
"Come on."
His voice lowered.
"I'm sure you've noticed the people by now."
He glanced around.
"Trust me, Lior can wait."
"Alright, let's go."
He gestured to Ria as they followed Jarek through a maze of nooks and crannies until they reached an alleyway.
Jarek rubbed his hand along the wall until he found a small keyhole.
He inserted a key and pushed the hidden door open.
"Come in."
He stepped inside first.
Faelan and Ria followed, and Jarek closed the door behind them.
CLICK
Jarek flipped a switch on the wall, illuminating the room with electric bulbs.
It was a large space, one storey high and two storeys deep.
The floor they stood on formed a square ring around a large opening in the center, allowing a view of the lower levels.
Doors lined the walls.
There were no windows.
Instead, vents covered the walls, producing a faint humming sound.
"Wow, this is nice," Faelan remarked.
"Thanks. It gets better, though."
Jarek gestured for them to follow him down the stairs.
At the lowest level sat a large table surrounded by patched foam chairs of varying sizes.
A vehicle-shaped object stood in one corner beneath a large cloth.
Tools littered the room and hung from the walls.
"So this was the place you kept saying you wanted to decorate?" Faelan asked, looking around.
"I'm not exactly done yet, but yes, it is."
Ria found one of the larger chairs and sank into it.
Not as comfortable as a bed, but better than a normal chair, she thought.
"So, what happened?" Faelan asked.
Jarek's expression became serious.
"You've been kicked out of the messenger's guild."
"What?"
Faelan's eyes widened.
"Said something about breaking a rule."
Jarek headed toward a cupboard.
"And then there's the scarf. Means you spent too much time out there."
He pulled out a bottle and two glasses.
"You want a glass?"
"Not really in the mood," Faelan replied.
"I'll take one."
A voice came from above.
A lean man descended the stairs.
He looked to be in his mid-twenties, with black hair and sharp gray eyes.
"Meaow."
Another sound followed his voice.
Tiny footsteps echoed down the stairs as a tacarrox sprinted ahead of him and leapt onto Faelan.
He nearly lost his balance before catching it in his arms.
"Niri?" he muttered.
The animal purred softly, nestling against him.
Faelan ran his fingers through her coarse, bristly fur.
Its deep blue coat was broken by sky-blue dots and stripes that reflected the light with a faint sheen.
"She was starting to get very... hissy."
The man reached the floor.
"Kalen," Faelan said, surprised.
"How'd you get down here?" Jarek asked, puzzled.
"There are entrances all around this part of town."
Kalen poured himself a glass of rum.
"You did a poor job hiding them."
He took a sip before turning to Faelan.
"Not as poor a job as you, though."
What exactly happened?" Faelan asked, worry creeping into his voice.
"You went on a delivery that should have taken at most five days."
Kalen took a gulp from his glass.
"You were gone for almost two weeks. We thought you had gone missing, or worse."
"We even put together a search party, but that became pointless after we received the message from the general headquarters."
"The general headquarters terminated my membership?"
"Yes."
Kalen nodded.
"Which isn't common."
He set his glass down.
"What happened, Faelan?"
"The mayors said the parcel had to go somewhere."
Faelan rubbed the back of his neck.
"They didn't even tell me where, so I just got passed around until I eventually delivered it to some weird place with a hidden door."
He turned to Jarek.
"Theirs were better looking, by the way."
Jarek let out a sigh.
"You know we don't take personal deliveries."
Kalen took another sip.
"Why'd you agree?"
"I don't think they would've let me leave."
"Anything else you can think of?"
"Not really," Faelan replied.
Kalen's attention shifted.
A pair of glassy eyes had been fixed on them for the entire conversation.
He couldn't quite make out their color.
"Who's the pretty lady?"
"That's Ria."
Faelan gestured toward her.
"Ria, this is Kalen. He's a messenger, like I... was."
"She's with you?"
"...Yes..."
Kalen turned to Jarek.
Jarek simply raised his shoulders and relaxed into his chair, taking another drink.
"Anyways, you're lucky the wallguards remember you."
Kalen leaned back in his chair.
"Your scarf being the way it is puts you pretty close to being branded."
"About that, what's wrong with it?"
Faelan adjusted the scarf around his neck.
"And what's it made of?"
"That's what happens when you spend too long without checking in at a messenger guild."
Kalen shrugged.
"It's mainly to stop criminals from using one if it gets stolen."
"As for what it's made of, I don't know."
He spread his hands.
"It can't burn, you can't cut it, and not so much as a loose thread comes off it."
"So it's stuck like this?"
"Yes."
Kalen nodded.
"It's still a useful piece of cloth, though."
He finished his drink and set the empty glass down.
"In less than an hour, a few Solax officials will be here."
"What—"
"How do you know that?" Jarek cut in.
"The guards can see them from the top of the walls."
Kalen shrugged again.
"That's also how I heard Faelan was back."
"If you really can't think of anything, then they're probably here for something else."
Faelan glanced in Ria's direction.
She subtly adjusted her gaze, as though something had caught her attention.