An assortment of bird cages lined the fabric walls of the wagon, in seemingly random patterns. The cages – both large and small – were strapped to the wooden poles that supported the thick canvas covering of the wagon. Stacked from floor to ceiling, any other worker would have trouble differentiating the order in which they were arranged. Yet, for Cruck’aa, there was a reason for their layout.

He had arranged the cages into groups, with each section filled with birds that were happy to be one another’s neighbor. The smaller, chattier birds stuck together, while the larger, solitary birds occupied a corner to themselves. Other birds were placed in the middle, with the those more likely to make friends sharing a border with the chatty ones, while the quieter birds were placed with the other, more introverted birds.

With this organization, Cruck’aa had changed the cacophony of shrieks and shrills to a chorus of song, something that his employer was amazed at.

Cruck’aa took the praise in stride – and didn’t tell him that he could simply ask the birds where they wished to be. Being an Aarakocra had its perks.

One of the chattier birds, a tiny grey cockatiel, hopped up and down in its cage, and yelled for Cruck’aa’s attention.

“Out! Out!” it shouted, jumping about like a rabbit. “Out! Out!”

“Yes, yes” Cruck’aa said evenly. He walked over, ensuring the movement of the wagon didn’t throw him off, and opened the cage. The cockatiel climbed onto his talon, a gleam in its eye. “Out, out.”

Each bird was allotted a specific time in which they were able to fly about the caravan and stretch their wings, something that his employer had never given thought to. However, Cruck’aa only let those out who he knew would come back; after the first escape, he knew which group of birds would make a break for it the moment they could.

If only he could accommodate them.

He walked to the back of the wagon, opened the flaps, and shot his hand out; the cockatiel flew out, and began fluttering about the top of the wagon. Cruck’aa grinned as he watched the small bird enjoy its freedom.

“But, boss, I don’t know what I did!”

Cruck’aa’s grin faded immediately as he sat down on the edge of the wagon, watching the cockatiel closely.

Down the road, Serena’s wagon followed just close enough for him to overhear their conversation. They same conversation they had been having for days.

And he was sick of it.

The teamster that called herself Werond was sitting rudely on the driver’s bench. She had leaned back and kicked her legs up on the wagon’s frame and had one arm laid out over the backrest. Cruck’aa couldn’t wrap his head around her instance of wearing clothes that looked worn beyond time. Her tunic and work pants were faded from the sun, with mended holes in various spots across the fabric, and worst of all, they seemed to be the only pair of clothes she owned.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

She gripped the reins in her mouth, and pulled her thick hair back, throwing it over the frame of the bench as she leaned back into her original spot.

Serena sat next to her, skirt pulled tight around her legs, and bunched up under her. Her white tunic looked spotless next to Werond if a bit ruffled.

Cruck’aa could barely see her signs but still heard her voice, clear as day.

“No! I’m not talking about it!” Serena’s blue eyes were narrowed, face contorted in irritation. “I don’t want to talk about it! You need to take responsibility for your mistakes, not me!”

Werond grinned in confusion. “Serena, how am I going to do that…when I don’t know what I did?”

“You should know!” Serena yelled in Cruck’aa’s head, her hands a fury of motion; though she seemed furious, Cruck’aa thought that she was trying too hard, as though Serena was covering something else. “You should remember! I shouldn’t have to remind you –” She let loose a yell of frustration, and turned away, fists balled against her legs.

Werond’s grin hadn’t faded. “And I agree with you! I do! But I can’t fix something that I don’t remember doing. You’d agree with that, right?”

Serena didn’t respond; she stared her fingernails as though they held the secrets of the world.

“Hey, I didn’t know there was a spell to paint your nails, that’s pretty nifty.” Werond said, scooting over to Serena. “Think I could learn that sometime? Is it just black or is there a better color?”

Serena shot her a look that caused Werond to slide back to her side of the bench, laughing nervously.

“Okay, okay, sorry boss.”

The pair lapsed into silence, with Werond driving and Serena now stroking her braid of hair that lay against her chest.

Cruck’aa began to express his thanks to Aerdrie, when Werond opened her mouth again.

“Okay how ‘bout this,” she said, “you won’t tell me, and I can’t remember. So, I’ll start listing off stuff, and you tell me if I’m close to…whatever I did. That way I can figure things out, and you don’t have to talk about it. Sounds good?”

Serena shot Werond another look but this time, Werond wasn’t deterred.

“Okay, okay, so…I did something so bad that you’ve been holding a grudge for days. Is it…about the Zultans?” Serena shook her head. “Hmm. What about food? I know I forgot your soup a couple nights ago.” Serena furrowed her brows. “Oh, okay. Uh…did I mess up the sleeping spots in the wagon? I know I tore the blanket at some point…but wait, you fixed that, that’s not it. Uh…oh! You wanted to drink with Bo! And I drank all of it!”

“Close.” Serena signed angrily. Werond nodded, paying no heed to her irritation.

“Close huh? Okay, I can work with that. Wait, you said you don’t drink so it wasn’t that…but I did get shit-faced that night – oh, I said something, didn’t I!” Serena looked away, staring off into a distant forest that lay beyond the grass plains. “Yeah, I did! So, I said something bad to you…oh, but if I said something bad, then I bet anything that I did something bad too, huh?” Serena remained silent. “Oh…well if I did something then…”

Werond grinned.

She slid across the bench, and leaned into Serena’s ear, whispering something that Cruck’aa couldn’t hear.

Serena whipped around, face turning scarlet, and punched Werond in the chest. Werond threw her head back and let loose a deep throated laugh, as Serena continued her assault.

“Boss, boss!” Werond said through her laughter, sliding once more to her side. “I get it, too much! And sorry about…whatever I did that night. Hopefully, it wasn’t too enjoyable.”

Serena’s eyes went wide, and she opened her mouth as if to speak. Werond laughed as, to Cruck’aa’s surprise, Serena’s face became redder than the sun. Werond reached over and patted Serena on the back, as she buried her face into her hands.

Cruck’aa sighed. Perhaps now those two would shut up.