Adahlia enters the stone cottage loaded down with the last of the items for storage. She descends the dirt staircase to the cellar—careful to watch her step as she goes down. Sotet comes to the edge of the opening and calls down to her.

“How’s it coming down there?” Sotet trills into the inky blackness.

Adahlia flashes a thumbs-up, but instantly remembers that Sotet cannot see the gesture. She giggles and shakes her head at the foolishness of her previous act.

“All done,” she calls loudly. “That’s the last of it.”

Sotet clasps his wingtips before rubbing them together. He nods absently.

“Good. I’ll seal and cover the entrance and then we can get ready to move,” Sotet says and goes to the table.

Sotet grabs his bandolier from the tabletop and puts it on. After cinching the bandolier tight, around his shoulder and midsection, Sotet takes a deep breath and retrieves a small vial from a pouch. He opens the vial as Adahlia exits the cellar and shuts the wooden door. Adahlia begins kicking dirt over the cellar door and Sotet joins in. Before long, the cellar is concealed by at least a foot of dirt. Once they are finished, Sotet pours a liberal amount of the vial’s liquid over the area. The dirt sizzles and forms a glasslike substance. Sotet waits until the sizzling stops and then covers the area with dirt again.

“In this way…” Sotet explains, “…the sound of the dirt and wood underfoot will not give away the fact that we have concealed something there.”

Sotet turns away from the secreted cellar and nods at the table.

“Help me place this over it,” Sotet instructs.

Adahlia complies—helping Sotet situate the table in the spot above the cellar.

Sotet offers Adahlia a glowing smile and holds out his wing—which she takes gently.

“Let’s see if the others are ready,” Sotet says in a quiet voice.

Adahlia and Sotet walk out of the cottage and into the bright sunlight of the dual suns. They find Diyrl and Lerfaf already dressed in their armor and standing underneath the canopy of the abundant shade trees. Adahlia looks around—a sadness creeping into her heart. She had grown to love this little oasis. The cool water of the pond; teeming with hivul, fish, and other water-dwelling creatures. The trees; whose broad, pink, leaves smelled of a mix of lavender and cinnamon. The simplicity of being able to breathe fresh, clean air. No school, no homework, and no bullies. But also, no mother.

Adahlia glances up at Sotet, hoping he has not observed her gloomy mood, and is relieved to see that he is paying her no mind. Sotet is beaming from ear to ear, as he catches sight of Diyrl and Lerfaf in their regalia.

“You both look wonderful!” Sotet trills excitedly. He absently releases his grip on Adahlia’s hand and closes the distance between himself and Lerfaf.

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“As I knew you would,” Sotet continues. He walks around Lerfaf, admiring his handiwork. “See? You

shouldn’t have worried. The dimensions are perfect. You should have no problem maneuvering at all.”

He follows the same procedure with Diyrl, studying her chest plate for fit. Diyrl shoots Sotet a fierce look.

“Try not to stare too long,” she says in a voice which is half growl and half chortle. “I might get a complex.”

Sotet rolls his eyes and backs away a step.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Diyrl,” he mutters almost under his breath.

Lerfaf snorts and stamps a foot, tossing his colorful mane in the process.

“Explain it to me again,” Lerfaf says. “Are we going into battle? You said, you are trying to save your worlds. Why are we dressed as if we are preparing to deal some serious damage?”

Sotet glares at Lerfaf—frustration at having to repeat himself welling up just a little.

“Lerfaf,” Sotet begins. “As you are well aware…We are all exiles here. Well, with maybe one exception. That being the case, we may very well run into other exiles. Not so friendly ones. Similar to the fiend who tried to kill Diyrl—and who also attacked Adahlia. Now, I know you’d like to believe that your forceful words will keep the fiend from ever attempting something like that again. But, I prefer to err on the side of caution. After all, is it not better to be prepared for the worst and have it not come to pass? Then, to have it come to pass—and be ill-prepared? Or worse still, not be prepared at all?”

Lerfaf remains silent; seeming to maul over what Sotet has said.

“Besides, before we can even get to Lixuwon,” Sotet continues on. “…We will have to find a way back to your world. And you haven’t been there in a span of time which is longer than any of the rest of us has been alive. Who’s to say what your world will be like? What if it has been completely taken over? What if your kin are hostile to your sudden reappearance? We must be prepared for any eventuality. I think you can see my point?”

Lerfaf nods his head solemnly, while drawing his lips together in a firm line.

“I’m sorry, Lerfaf,” Sotet trills—a small hint of regret in his voice. “I know you want to believe that you can predict any obstacle which might befall us, but that’s just not possible. We have to be prepared for the unexpected. As you have often said before—the future has many outcomes. Until it becomes the past, it is not written in stone. Anything can happen. And it will. What you see…Is most certainly not all there is.”

Diyrl reaches out a wing and nearly knocks Sotet off of his feet with a nudge. When he shoots her an angry glare, she simply shrugs her large shoulders and laughs.

“My my, Sotet,” Diyrl coos loudly. “You’ve got a bit of a philosopher in you. Sure you weren’t a mage in another life?”

“Pretty certain,” Sotet mutters—the scowl never leaving his face.

Diyrl cranes her head back and releases a laugh; and a plume of fire. Sotet flinches as she nearly catches a couple of the trees on fire.

“If you’re not careful, Diyrl,” Sotet trills angrily. “We won’t have anything to come back to.”

Adahlia finally pipes in. She approaches Sotet timidly and grips his right wingtip in a shaking hand.

“Are we coming back, Sotet?” Adahlia asks in a quiet voice, a tear leaking out of one eye. “Don’t you think we’ll succeed?”

Sotet lowers his gaze to look at Adahlia. His eyes are filled with love for the tiny child trying her hardest to appear brave.

“I hope we never have to see this place again, Adahlia,” Sotet explains. “But it is best to be prepared for anything. If we do have to return—“

Sotet once again shoots Diyrl a fierce scowl before returning his attention to Adahlia.

“We don’t want to have to start over from scratch,” Sotet completes his statement. “We just don’t have the resources for that anymore.”

“Yeah, yeah, grumpy head,” Diyrl interrupts. “We going or what? Help me get the harness attached will you, Adahlia?”

Adahlia smiles and moves in Diyrl’s direction. Her worries are once again at the back of her mind as she helps Diyrl attach the chariot’s flight harness.

Lerfaf and Sotet share a look which says they are happy to see her otherwise engaged.