Consciousness returned with a vengeance. Eiron cracked open his dry eyes and winced at the brightness. His upper arms were clinched in rough grips, one on either side. Trailing behind him as he was dragged along, his feet failed to find purchase on the loose sand. Likewise, thrashing had no effect; merely a grunt of annoyance. With great effort, Eiron forced a leg forward and shoved upward. The increased pressure on his arms quickly dissuaded any attempt to break free. That, and the command which sent a shiver down his spine.

"One more twitch and I'll finish the job myself."

Eiron complied. Hanging limp, it took a second for fright to fade away. People! Whether they be murderous bandits, or a hundred servants ready to wait on him hand and foot, it didn't matter. However, it was looking like the former was much more likely. Was it better to die by the hands of a human rather than a creature of the Wilds?

"Shut your trap Banton. Can't you see he's terrified?"

An equally rough voice came to his defense. Eiron couldn't muster the energy to look for the face. He could barely even focus on the dirt beneath him as his head lolled. That wasn't dirt...sand? That would explain the itchy sensation covering his sweaty skin. The quiet thumps of boots marching became clacks as they reached a cobbled road. He tilted his head up as far as his tired neck could manage. Up ahead was that lighter spot in the shadowed blur he had seen before. A wide gate set in smooth stone walls which stretched out to either side. Before he could make out any other details, his muscles gave out. The road flowed by like a river. Growing nauseous, he let his eyelids fall and just listened.

"Fine. But he'll be having none of my rations. I'm not responsible for taking in every stray who comes along."

"He collapsed from exhaustion, man! Have you no decency? And you saw those Fylin chasing after him. Is the safety of the city not your responsibility?"

The jostling stopped, the cessation of movement sending a twinge of pain up Eiron's spine. In the silence, all he could hear was the creaking of leather and the low blowing of the wind.

"Do you see any Fylin? I sure don't. For all we know he's a criminal trying to sneak back into the city."

"It's just around the corner. Then you can go off and get fleeced of all your coin by the many establishments you frequent."

"At least I have a life."

Eiron really didn't care...about any of this. He cared that his shoulders were beginning to hurt worse than the rest of his body under their firm grip, and that was saying something. As they passed through the gate, he could sense a change, though not in the pain. The breeze was blocked and the air felt warmer. More noticeable however, was the explosion of sound on all sides. Voices, clatter, creaks, a few dogs in the distance. There was enough texture to keep his mind occupied and drown out the rambling of his captors. Rescuers?

In any case, they were still dragging him along. Dust, kicked up from their steady steps, filled the air. The sound of his dry coughs barely reached his own ears in the cacophony. They continued for some time -Eiron didn't bother counting the paces- only pausing twice to let a wagon pass by. Not much was said.

The streets, still flowing by underfoot, changed. Rough stone with grout of sand gave way to regular shapes carefully laid. There was still dust. Its only absence was two streaks stretching out behind Eiron. Even those fell quickly to the plumes. Jolting to a stop once again, he was released. Flopping to the ground, it felt so soft, sleep and thirst fought for supremacy.

A pair of calloused hands grabbed him again and propped him against a nearby wall. With great effort, Eiron glanced up at the face. Weathered, tough, and yet the eyes were human. It was impossible to tell their age at a glance. They bore signs of a weary life filled with rich memories.

"Are you alright lad?"

Eiron opened his mouth and pushed air out, but no words emerged, just another weak cough.

"Here, start with this."

Cracked leather met his lips, then...water! He clawed for the waterskin, desperate for more. Each drop was bliss but never enough to satisfy. Too soon, far too soon, it was pulled away from his outstretched arms.

"Careful. You'll lose it again just as fast." The man waited a moment while Eiron stole back control from instinct. "Now let's try that again. Are you injured?"

"Not seriously." The words were audible this time, though his voice sounded foreign to his ears.

The man nodded.

"Good. Then I'll move on to more serious questions. Are you in danger? Have you committed a crime?"

Eiron met the stern gaze, very serious injuries radiating from his eyes.

"I don't know."

Perplexed, the man tried another angle.

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"Is anyone after you?"

"No." The word was bitter on his tongue.

"I see. Did you harm anyone?"

"Not intentionally."

"Listen, this is very important. If you have committed a crime and are attempting to flee it will only worsen your punishment. Be honest with me, I'm on your side."

"What? I don't understand. Where am I?"

The man sighed. "I can see you're exhausted. Here, eat some of this and rest. We can continue once you have recovered."

A small package was placed in Eiron's hand. He clutched it before it could slide to the dusty ground. The man took a step back and studied the slumped boy before him.

"There are many other guards around. Running will be unsuccessful, so for both our sakes, please don't try."

Eiron forced out a tiny nod, it seemed to satisfy the man who walked away shaking his head. Unwrapping the gift with aching fingers, Eiron discovered a small block of cheese. He bit off a chunk and intense flavor filled his senses. No king had ever tasted such a delicacy. Relishing every second, he relaxed against the stone wall. It was cooler here in the shade. His critical needs now met, sleep rushed to claim him.

----------------------------------------

A soft kick to his side woke him.

"Feeling better?"

Eiron squinted up, sunlight in his eyes. How did he feel? Sore and fatigued of course, but at least death wasn't looming behind every tree. He had eaten all the cheese at some point which held hunger at bay as well. Thirst remained. The guard handed him the waterskin and let him drink his fill this time.

"A bit."

"Okay then. Let's start with where you're from."

"The village."

"This isn't a joking matter. Which village?"

"What? There's more villages? Where am I?"

"It looks like the sun is still addling your brain. Did you commit any crimes? Steal anything? Harm someone?"

Did ruining an entire field of crops and threatening the well-being of his entire family count? His heart said yes but he suspected that wasn't the answer the guard was looking for.

"No, nothing like that...I hope."

The guard paused and considered. Body language seemed to echo his thought process as he leaned from side to side. Finally ending up leaning to the left, he looked around and shrugged.

"That's enough for me. You looked close enough to death that I doubt this was all a ploy. Just stay out of trouble you hear? And hand my back the water."

Woodenly, Eiron complied. His eyes lingered on the waterskin as it was tied about the guard's waist.

"Oh right, you're not from here. There's wells throughout the city. You'll survive well enough. Now off you go."

Crawling up the wall, Eiron stood and tried to stretch. He immediately decided that was the worst idea he'd had all year. There was nothing to do but put one foot in front of the other. It was horrifyingly familiar. As he left the guardhouse behind, another command was tossed his way.

"Find some work as well. We've enough vagabonds loitering about as it is."

Whatever that meant, it couldn't be something good. At least he had the energy to walk. That is, if you called the slow shambling he managed on weak legs 'walking'. Lethargy faded a bit as he took in the city. It was beyond his wildest imagination of what was possible. Buildings stood in straight rows, often touching with how closely they were packed together. More shocking was the height of each one. His eyes traced upwards and counted the windows. That one on the corner had four levels! And not the low attic ceilings he was used to either, four full floors!

Stepping out into the street, his awareness of architecture and engineering disappeared. People, so many people. Hordes of them on this street alone all in constant motion. There must be a hundred of them spread out along the road. He turned to look in the other direction and was nearly bowled over.

"Watch yourself, kid."

The words drifted by as the figure sprinted past, satchel stretching out behind them. Eiron frowned. Whoever that was, they were more of a kid than he was. Where did they need to go that required such speed? In fact, what could any of these people be doing? There wasn't an air of celebration or excitement. Was every day like this?

All types of people as well. Tall and short, thick and thin. Clothing the likes of which he'd never dreamed. Each one, a unique piece of art in countless styles and colors. Was everyone rich? How many fields must they each own to have such variety? Most of the clothing didn't even look durable. Were they foolish as well?

He let himself join the current, drifting along the edges where the elderly strolled. Caught up in simply observing, the next intersection came as a shock. An even bigger street! This one was lined with wider buildings, many of which had signs hanging along the front. It was overwhelming. According to one, he could get a room for two pewters, another proclaimed the strength of gardening tools. Several didn't have signs. Sweet aromas of fresh bread and stew flowing out was all the advertising they needed.

The market was the true marvel. Eiron had continued past countless intersections until he, and the stream of people all around, spilled out into a massive square. Warm chatter and murmurs now became shouts and chaos. Colors also become uncountable. Rows and rows of tiny tents stretched out, beckoning any and all to peruse their goods. The paths between them curved randomly and hid the deeper stalls from view.

Before he could be pushed along, Eiron extracted himself and moved to a quieter area on the outskirts. He leaned against another stone wall and took it all in...or tried to. He stared at all the movement and colors until they began to blur together. The warm stone at his back was a far larger comfort than it should have been. There was no other comfort to be had. On either side of him, other people seemingly had the same idea. They stood surveying the scene together, a strange comradery shared between them.

What a scene it was. Waiting and watching for minutes or hours as was their wont, the strangers would leave and go about their lives only to be replaced by new figures. Some slept the day away in the shadows. Occasionally, groups of kids would dash out of the alleys and disappear into the masses. Eiron, now sitting, observed for longer than most. There was simply too much to see, let alone comprehend. He was broken from his fixation, not by boredom or need, but by a scratchy voice calling out to him. He forced his eyes away from that beautiful painting and searched for the owner of said voice.

A figure who had sat down not long ago now beckoned him over. Regaining his feet, Eiron realized just how weak he had become. More food and drink was probably important to locate. But first, the stranger.