Surprisingly enough Martin was more casual about Sloan keeping Talon than he had originally thought. The store owner leaned forward to be eye level to the bird sitting on the back of the dining room chair.

“Just don’t mess up my floors m’kay?” He asked. Talon attempted to give a swift rebuttal meant to defend her honor. Instead, all Martin could hear was squawking from an indignant bird.

“That’s enough, Talon.” Sloan sighed, taking the bird off the chair. He lifted the girl onto his shoulder to calm her down a little. Talon promptly turned her back on Martin, doing what could only be called a pout.

“She’s full of spunk,” Martin commented, smiling at Talon’s feathered back.

“You have no idea.” Sloan groused, making his way to open the shop for the day.

“Right, so we have two weeks to get that food you saw down there into crates. Don’t worry, I’ll be supervising.” Martin waved Sloan to follow him down the spiral stairs.

“Ok, so first thing is first.” Martin started off by going over to what use to be a living room. Inside were crates that stacked neatly on top of one another. Each stack stood taller than Sloan and there were dozens of them. “We take this.” Martin held up a red leather-bound book with the current month and year marked on the front. “And we look for the first family to receive their food. Let’s see, today is the twelfth so that means we start with the Hearthfellows.” Martin made some scatting noises under his breath as he read the notes in the book. “So four kids under sixteen with two parents. That equals- “

“Wait! Wait! There are kids here?” Sloan asked in an offended tone. Martin looked up from the notes to give Sloan a look of confusion.

“Well yeah. Boy meets girl and well…you know.” Martin tried to explain plainly.

“No. No, I get that. What I don’t get is why they are here. As in why are children being raised in a place like this?” Sloan was so confused he was starting to get angry. None of what he was hearing was making any sense.

“Just because you have a kid doesn’t mean you automatically discover your Talent.” Martin explained as if he were speaking to a fractious child.

“But doesn’t anyone ever leave Camp Hope?” Sloan pried. Martin thought for a moment before answering.

“Not that I know of. We have a Specific Training Facility but no one really uses it. Not that I blame them, no one has to pay for anything here. Sure, housing here may not be Amorian quality but a lot of people here were born here so they don’t know any better. Finding your Talent, finding work just to compete with the Amorian elite? That’s not a life. No, we’re better off here. What more do we need?” The shopkeeper seemed blissfully happy at the level of mediocrity that Camp Hope was stagnating in. Sure, Martin was happy but compared to the other living arrangement he'd seen Sloan would wager not many people shared his sentiment.

“Goals maybe,” Sloan muttered under his breath.

“What’s that?” Martin was broken out of his concentration to pay attention to Sloan again.

“Nothing. What did that family need again?” Sloan tried diverting Martin’s attention away from their current topic.

* * *

It took four days for Sloan to slowly become accustomed to packing the supplies for the rest of the camp into crates. Wheels of cheese, fruits and vegetables, flour, and salted beef were mixed together in a crate.

Luxury items such as new clothes had to be specially requested before they were sent down with the next supply shipment. Marked with chalk, each filled crate was neatly placed in a row on the ground in alphabetical order.

Talon had yet to speak another word after she admitted to having no home. She would take off in the morning and be back before nightfall. The once swollen pack Sloan had been carrying around was shrinking, as one by one, items were being taken out. By the time the twelfth day had rolled around all cookware had been moved to the kitchen. Clothes hung out to dry on a line strung from one end of Sloan’s room to the opposite side. An outside observer would have thought the grumpy man lived here this whole time.

On day fourteen Sloan was met with the reality of what living in Camp Hope truly meant. Since his conversation with Martin about the children living in the camp, he hadn’t given them a second thought.

When Sloan was hustled downstairs to help hand out the supplies, the flutist stopped short on the stairs. Hearing about the children was completely different than seeing them in person. Martin shoved a graying apron into Sloan's hands before bustling over to the door.

“Here’s the deal, people will present their tag, I’ll read off the name and you are to grab their boxes. Simple enough.” Martin pointed sternly at Sloan before opening the top portion of the door.

The first woman in line didn’t give a hello or even a smile as she handed over her metal tag. Martin carefully looked at the tag (making sure it was an officially minted tag, or Sloan assumed), then flipped through the leather-bound book to find the page that matched the name.

“Ok Sloan, we need the Ferrier boxes.” Martin announced over his shoulder. Sloan briskly walked back to the line of crates to find ‘Ferrier’. As fast as he could, Sloan grabbed the two crates and made his way back towards the entrance. With a smile, Sloan handed the crates to the woman. She refused to smile as Martin used a piece of charcoal to make an impression of the woman’s tag. The woman took her tag and her crates wordlessly before disappearing back into the camp. This exchange kept strong for the next few hours. Sloan’s back had started to twinge from the bending and swooping when the guards that were patrolling the line started to shoo people away.

The sky was starting to grow dark out, signaling the people to head home. As the guards made sure the people were properly dispersing, Sloan could hear the loud complaints about how horrible of a job Sloan and Martin were doing. A pain of guilt struck his heart as children shuffled back home without their rations.

“Ah, don’t feel too bad.” Martin said, slapping Sloan on the back. “There is always tomorrow.”

True enough, the next day and the day after that people streamed in to grab their crates. It took seven days for the camp to receive their rations for the month. When the last man left with his supplies the two were finally able to breathe again.

The fourth week of the month was dedicated to resting up before the next shipment. Every so often people would return their crates to be refilled. Martin would check the crate for special requests. While receiving the next month's ration ledger, Sloan ended up staring at the ceiling of his room, nursing his sore muscles. During Sloan's staring contest with the ceiling, Talon came back from one of her many flights.

“You're back early,” Sloan commented, not looking at her.

‘Some kids were throwing rocks at me.’ Talon offhandedly replied. The silence stretched between the two, causing Sloan to grumble while he migrated to the living area to maybe escape the awkwardness. Utter boredom led to Sloan poking through random containers shoved up into a corner. A crate, like the ones they used downstairs for the rations, contained a stack of drawings and a metal tin labeled coloring wax. Sloan chuckled, as he couldn’t even remember the last time he saw coloring wax let alone colored with any. Rifling through the drawings, Sloan was very surprised at what he was looking at. Sunsets, sunrises, and even a little creek that could not possibly come from eight colored wax sticks… but here they were.

“I’m back and look what’s for dinner!” Martin came up the stairs, jubilantly holding up three medium sized fish dangling from a string. Like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar, Sloan froze, still holding the drawings. “Well if I knew you’d be snooping around I would have taken you with me.” Martin threw the fish in the sink with a thud.

“How about you put those doodles away and wash up to help with dinner?” Martin seemed more embarrassed than angry. Not wanting to push his luck any further, Sloan quickly put everything back where he got it.

Neither man spoke a word as the two of them scaled and deboned their meal. Martin was lopping off the head of the last fish when Sloan spoke up to break the tension.

“You have such an amazing Talent! But why-” Sloan started to ask, but was quickly cut off.

“Do I live in a village full of No Talents?” Martin asked. Sloan nodded.

“Nothing I can draw is original. Everything I draw is a mere copy.” Scales went flying as Martin scrapped them off with aggravation. “I mean, it’s not even a real Talent.” There was a pressing silence for a second. The shopkeeper stopped preparing dinner to lean against the counter.

“Besides, even if I were to get properly signed off as an Art Talent or whatever, where would I go? All I’ve ever know was the confines of the Camp. How many masters out there would want someone from Camp Hope?” Before Sloan could take a breath to reply, Martin cut him off again. “None. Camp Hope has never produced a single Talent worth any merit. And they never will. You want to know why?” Sloan could barely swallow before Martin pushed on. “Our Basic Education system is a joke and our Advanced Talent Administration is in shambles. And no one cares.” Martin took several calming breaths before going back to cleaning the fish. “Fish pie sound good?”

“You don’t ever want to leave.” It wasn’t a question. The whole conversation felt odd coming from Sloan. Up until the beginning of spring of this year, Sloan had never left Tinkerton. Even when he was kicked out of his parent’s house he never went too far.

“I have a great life here.” Martin said, defending his position. “I have a purpose, clothes on my back and food in my belly. What more do I need?” Sloan knew that the question was a rhetorical one but he answered anyway.

“Is it a crime to want more out of life?”

“Sounds like something a self-entitled jerk would say.” Martin replied. At Sloan’s hard look, he continued explaining. “Constantly wanting more, never being satisfied.”

“Well, it’s better than becoming stagnant and rotting away.” Sloan shot back.

“Humph. You sound exactly like my father… before he killed himself that is.” Martin jutted his chin towards the ceiling, attempting to look more intimidating.

“What happened?” Sloan asked. The flurry of heated emotions turned chilling in that instant.

“My dad thought he was destined to be an amazing treasure hunter. His Talent was discovering lost things, so in his mind, that meant hidden treasure as well. You know what he found? The rockslide that killed him.” No one said anything for a full minute before Martin spoke up again. “You’re going to kill yourself you know.”

“I’d rather die trying than live never knowing.” were the final words Sloan spoke to Martin. The two of them ended up working on the pie in near silence, with Sloan going back to his room while it baked.

Sloan was stretched out on his bed trying to get comfortable when his outstretched fist hit something soft. Looking up to see what he hit, he saw the bag that contained the Djinn coin. With nothing better to do, Sloan opened it up to look at the smelted bit of currency. Up close and in the light the coin was shiny as could be and not a single nick or blemish to be seen. How long had this been stuck in the Spike? The coin must have been magic to last so many years in the elements.

Come to think of it, Sloan had no idea how much the coin was worth. The most he had ever held in his hand at one time was a few silver pieces. So Sloan had never actually seen a gold coin up until he stole this one from the Nomad's Spike. For some reason the actual age of the coin never occurred to Sloan.

‘I know that look.’ Talon piped up. ‘What did you find?’

“What does this say to you?” Sloan asked, holding up the coin for Talon to read.

'Maso Meso Thelioma.’ Talon read. ‘Sounds foreign.’

“Or old.” Sloan countered. Rolling over, Sloan crawled over to his traveling bag to retrieve the small coin pouch at the bottom. He pulled out a few bronze pieces to compare to the gold coin. He turned the coin over in his palm to read the tiny letter smelted on the surface. With his non-dominate hand, he brought up the magic made coin to compare it to the normal coin. In his right, was the coin bearing the S for Scheelite. To his left was the Djinn coin bearing the capital letter A.

“A.” Sloan read aloud.

‘What?’ Talon asked.

“A!” Repeated Sloan a little louder.

‘I am right here. What?’ Sloan blinked, finally catching on.

“No, the letter A. This coin was minted in a city starting with A.” Sloan explained. He set the two coins side by side on the floor for Talon to see.

“That’s impossible.” Talon argued. She hopped over to the coins. “All money is minted in Scheelite. My father was a Mineral Talent who apprenticed under one of the Goldsmiths there. The money is mined and melted there to prevent forgery.” Talon rattled off like she was a Mineral Talent herself. With a smirk, Sloan turned the coin to its reverse side. Under the face of a person neither of them could name was the date and first letter of the place where the coin was minted.

“Even those minted in 1485?” He asked. Talon had no reply. Instead, she peered closer to the mountain on the back. While the more current coin had the Amorian Spike on it, the Djinn coin had a mountain. The more recent coin had ‘Through unity, we prevail’ while the old coin had a collection of letters that meant nothing to Sloan.

‘That looks like Mt. Theo.’ Talon said casually . Sloan’s eyes went wide as a thought occurred to him. He snatched up the coin to pull mere centimeters from his face. The tallest singular mountain in Asthore was Mt. Theo or the Great Mountain Theliotha.

“’Maso Meso Theliotha.’ Mt. Theo.” Sloan blinked for second then breathed. The image of a mountain drawn in a book he read almost a lifetime ago flashed before his eyes. “Amoria.”

‘You don’t think-’ Talon started.

“Oh, but I do,” Sloan assured her, pulling all their clues closer. “Here’s what happened, a man makes a deal with the Djinn” He slapped the coin on the floor. “things go wrong, yada, yada, he tries to return the coin back where he got it. Where did he get it? Mt. Theliotha. Why Theliotha? Because at the base of Theliotha is the most elite Talent capital, ripe with people willing to pay anything for a taste of the good life. " Sloan tapped the coin’s surface for emphasis.

‘That’s kind of a stretch don’t you think?’ Talon asked slowly.

“It all makes sense! What more desperate place than an entire city filled with nothing but the best Talents in the country?” Sloan asked loudly. He was excited. Sitting up, Sloan was too excited to lie down anymore. He reached back into his bag to pull out the map he thought he’d never use again.

“Now, if it took us three days by horse-drawn buggy then it will take us…two weeks to reach Amoria.” Sloan calculated. Remembering the harsh environment he noticed on the way down, Sloan wasn’t foolish enough to believe he would survive the way there.

‘There is no way you could walk back. It was hard enough for me and I can fly.’ Talon pointed out. Sloan worried his bottom lip. The whole situation was looking more and more depressing. First, they would have to find a way out of the camp. Then there is the trip all the way to Amoria. And then what? Climb the mountain and what? Look for what? Sloan crossed his arms and rested his forehead on top of them. He just needed to calm down and think for a second. Truth be told, Sloan had not had a decent night’s sleep for the last few days. Every night his dreams were filled with places he’s never been with people he had never met. Everyone making the same mistake… wishing to the Djinn. One thing was for certain, though. If he stayed here, Phyllis would be lost forever.

Raising his head from his arms, Sloan lifted himself up from the floor. He assembled every scrap of information he had collected into a neat row next to his bed.

“Let’s see. We have a Magical coin, a novel written by a man who claimed to have walked in the Other Realm in his dreams, and a story about a stained glass window I have a mental image of.” Sloan tapped his head when he mentioned that last bit of evidence.

‘Do you even remember what the window looked like?’ Talon sounded more sincere than her usual snarky self. Sloan frowned as he tried to recall what he saw.

“I think so. Maybe it would be better if we drew a picture.” Sloan was now trying to think of what to write on. He would need colors and the only person who had colors was-

“I hate to interrupt your conversation, but dinner is ready,” Martin called through the door. Bird and human eyes met and both knew exactly what the other was thinking.

Dinner between Sloan and Martin was usually quiet but today the silence was suffocating. Sloan was busy running various scenarios in his head about asking Martin to borrow his coloring wax. Taking a bite out of one of the potatoes and chewing slowly, Sloan wondered if the two of them did an amazing job making this pie or he was getting used to eating the bland food. Deep in thought, he almost didn’t hear when Martin said, “Don’t worry, next week we will be getting your share of the rations.” Martin poked at the crust of the pie. Sloan stopped chewing when he heard that. Of course. All that food must come from somewhere. If Sloan could get a pass to leave the town, he could hitch a ride back to where the supplies came from. More than likely Amoria. Plotting his next move, Sloan eyeballed the art supplies piled in the corner. First, he needed to get all his clues assembled.

The pocket watch ticked on loyally in the dark. Sloan was lying wide awake into the late hours of the night, biding his time. Midnight seemed as good a time as any to sneak out into the living area to borrow Martin’s drawing supplies. Even a crude drawing would be better than the already fading memory of the stained glass window in his mind. Navigating by memory and feel alone, Sloan managed to get the supplies he needed.

Drawing by candlelight, he held a hushed conversation with Talon about the exact details of the window. It took entirely too long and the picture came out terrible but all the details the two of them could remember were present. Putting everything back where he got it with equal stealth, Sloan had a wide grin on his face after he put the lid back on the box where he had gotten the supplies.

“What are you doing?” Martin asked, causing Sloan to jump in surprise. Just like back in Amoria, Sloan was caught in the act. Fortunately, the man looked entirely too tired to fully comprehend what he was seeing.

“Well, you see.” Sloan tried, floundering. Martin's eyes zeroed in on the box his roommate held not three minutes ago.

“Are you trying to steal my art supplies?” Instead of sounding mad, Martin sounded more confused.

“Borrow! I borrowed some of your stuff.” Sloan corrected, holding up his index finger. Martin blinked sleepily before turning back towards his room.

“You could have just asked.” The Art Talent muttered before disappearing into his room. Puffing out the breath he was holding, Sloan returned to his own room for the rest of the night.

Another nightmare but this time it was interrupted by Martin banging on the door.

“Wake up! You don’t get to sleep in just because you stayed up all night!” Martin announced as he barged in. Groaning, Sloan hid his head under the cloak he’d been using as a blanket. Even Talon was grumbling as she tried to get comfortable again. “What’s all this then?” Martin asked, poking around the neatly lined up clues.

“A stained glass window.” Sloan answered, pulling the cloth from his face. No use trying to sleep now. In a rather insulting way, Martin squinted and turned the picture various ways to make sense of what he was seeing.

“Is that what they are supposed to look like?” the man asked, now holding the drawing out at arm’s length.

“Well no.” Sloan admitted, now sitting up to take the picture back from his roommate. “See, this is supposed to be a man and this is a waterfall.” Martin’s frown grew deeper as Sloan pointed out the different parts of the window.

“Ugh. Fine!” Martin snapped out of the blue as he snatched back the picture. Confused, Sloan watched Martin storm out of the room. “You coming?” Martin’s voice called out from the living space. Walking out with Talon perched on his shoulder, Sloan saw the Art Talent grab several sheets of plain white paper along with the coloring wax and even a few leftover charcoal/chalk bits. The three of them sat on a bare patch on the floor so they could have a flat surface to work on.

“Ok, let’s see what we got.” Humming to himself, Martin began redrawing the stained glass window. Occasionally Sloan or even Talon would make a correction but for the most part, Martin worked in silence.

“Well, what do you think?” Martin asked, sliding the paper over to his captivated audience. Even the spots where two pieces of glass meet where spot on. The chalk made a nice white snow color against the off-white paper.

“Wow, this is really good. This looks exactly like it should.” Sloan declared, his eyes raking over the details. The coin, the book, the myth, and now the window. They now had every clue to the puzzle they’ve seen so far. Now all Sloan had to do now was leave Camp Hope. Sounded like a task easy enough to accomplish for the world’s best Flutist. Never mind the fact that he hasn’t even played a note in months. If it is for Phyllis rather than selfish gains he could muscle his way past his guilt. Looking away from the picture, Sloan saw Martin picking up a charcoal bit to draw some more.

“You should come with me.” Sloan offered out of the blue. All that raw Talent being utterly wasted here in this depression hole. Martin didn’t bother looking up from his sketch of Talon to answer, “Where are we going?”

“Amoria.” When Sloan said that Martin dropped his coloring wax. The man looked up from his drawing to give Sloan a hard to read expression, it was a mix between confused and worried.

“You’re serious.” It wasn’t a question. Resigning to the fact he won’t be getting back to his art, Martin cradled his chin in his hand. “And how are you planning to accomplish that?”

“Well, how would someone go about getting signed off on their Talent here?” Sloan queried, trying to act casual.

“Theoretically, that person would be tested by the Administrator to prove he has a Talent before a pardon is given. Mom didn’t want to talk to me about it after dad died, so I couldn’t tell you the details.”

“So you’ve never even tried, have you?”

“My father died pursuing his dreams. And for what? I just don't know if it was even worth it." Martin stared down at his own half-finished artwork. Absent-mindedly Martin tapped the end of the charcoal on the floor leaving tiny black marks. "If you want to apply for release go ahead. All you have to do is get an appointment with the administrator. If you get written off, you can hitch a ride back to Amoria with Abigail.” Martin explained before finishing his Talon drawing.

“That’s it?” Sloan pressed.

“That’s it. If you don’t mind my asking, what is your Talent anyway?”

“I am a Flutist.”

* * *

The first day of the month, supply day. Apparently, a woman named Abigail travels all the way from Amoria with everything the camp needs. She was going to be his ride back to the city. With a smile of satisfaction, Sloan plopped down his bag near the spiral staircase. As soon as the three of them unloaded everything, Sloan was packing his share of the ration before going on his way. Even Talon seemed in a more upbeat mood. When the two of them went downstairs they were greeted by a peculiar sight.

Martin was dressed in what Sloan assumed was his best clothes. His normally messy blonde hair was slicked back in some semblance of composure. When Martin heard Sloan walking up behind him the man turned for a brief second with a quick ‘hey’.

“You look fancy today.” Sloan commented, coming up behind the twitchy man.

“What… no. I dress like this all the time.” Martin tried to play off casually. Sloan’s scathing remark was cut off by a horse’s whinny. Martin had a little spring in his step as he bolted for the back door in the kitchen-turned-records room. Following behind, Sloan caught a glimpse of the driver of the wagon.

Phyllis would have a cow at the rough patchwork on the men’s jacket she wore over her flowery dress. The woman adjusted her wide-brimmed hat to look at the Martin’s bustling attempt to talk to her. She smiled at Martin’s energetic hand waving. When she spotted Sloan she stopped talking.

“Hello. Who is this?” The woman stared at Sloan with a hard look.

“This is Richard Sloan. Richie, this is Abigail. Abigail, this man believes that he will be leaving with you tomorrow.” Martin scoffed while Abigail giggled. Instead of trying to defend his honor, Sloan made his way to the back of the wagon to grab the first box labeled ‘soap’. The giggling duo pitched in to help a moment later. Surprisingly enough, the three of them were finished just after the sun went down.

“Who knew having just one extra person would help so much?” Abigail asked, dabbing her neck with a handkerchief. The three of them had made their way upstairs to make a small meal of cheese on bread with jerked meat. Sloan got up from the floor to stretch out the muscles that had tightened while he sat.

“Well, I’m headed to bed.” Sloan announced. Martin and Abigail followed in getting ready for bed.

“Oh that’s right, the room you usually occupied is being used by Sloan.” Martin slapped the side of his head. Abigail smiled while saying she’d be ok with camping out in the cart like she usually does. The voices of Martin and Abigail faded as Sloan wrapped in his cloak, praying for dreamless sleep.

It was very early morning when Sloan left for the Camp Administrator’s house. While he walked past the living room, Sloan saw Martin and Abigail were lying close to each other, their hands almost touching. Seems they stayed up late talking. Talon scoffed and made a snide remark that Sloan ignored. Sloan focused on gearing himself for whatever test the Mayor would have for him. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the door of the Camp Administrator. He took a deep breath before knocking on the solid wooden door. The same woman from before answered the door again. She gave Sloan an even harsher glare than before, as if he had done her some personal wrong.

“Can I help you?” She asked but sounded like the idea of being in his presence sickened her.

“Yes. I would like a test or evaluation…. thing.” Sloan tapered off as she kept staring at him.

“Right. Leave that thing outside.” The woman indicated to Talon. Talon puffed herself up for a second before taking off.

‘I’ll be around.’ Talon took off out of sight. The woman led Sloan up to the office where the administrator was sitting at his desk. Instead of the smile he was kind of expecting, the Admin looked rather mad.

“Mr. Sloan, I’d be lying if said I am happy to see you.” Sloan was taken aback when he heard that. The entire month he’d been here Sloan barely took a step outside. At Sloan’s look, the Admin went on to explain.

“Yesterday I received some rather upsetting news about the reason you were sent to our lovely Camp. But that is not the reason for my displeasure. For, you see, the Nomad’s Spike has been a beacon of hope for all the Asthore. Before Amoria was even a city there was just the spike that had a bubbling spring at its base. The weary travelers claimed the water with a single coin from the chief’s own purse. The coin, to this day, symbolizes the founding of not just a city but our very country.” The Admin gave a pause, allowing Sloan to squirm a little in his seat.

“This is where you come in. Fortunately for you, the water still flows from the base of the Spike despite being destroyed. However, the chieftain’s coin is still missing. The Mayor of Amoria has sent me a letter asking me to retrieve the coin from your person.” At that bit of information, Sloan swallowed hard. This was not going at all like he’d originally thought it would.

“I don’t have it.” Sloan protested too quickly. The Admin raised his eyebrow at that statement. “See, I dropped it when the Spike crumbled. I lost it in the rubble.” Well, that was at least half of the truth. The Admin puffed out an air of frustration. He got up out of his chair to face the window.

“I know about your little feathered friend.” The man commented as casual as possible. Sloan's spine stiffened at the thinly veiled threat. “So here’s my theory, and tell me if I am wrong but here goes.”

“You attempt to steal the coin from a national monument thinking you could make a pretty little profit. But you weren’t expecting the Spike to crumble as you pass the coin off to your little friend outside there. When you were being tried, you told the judge you had no Talent to avoid the no doubt years of hard labor you’d be assigned. Once here you laid low until one day you’d suddenly discover your Talent out of the blue. You assumed I’d sign off on your obvious Talent and send you back to Amoria. While being transported back to Amoria you planned on getting the drop on your guards using your little friend out there.” Sloan could only stare at the man as he laid out a pretty drawn out plan that sounded clever. “But that is not going to happen today or any other day. Here is what is what is going to happen, you will relinquish the coin so it can be returned to Amoria where it belongs. You will be sent back to Amoria to fulfill your sentence. Or we can search your belongings and you live out the rest of your days as a No Talent. The choice is yours.” Sloan stifled a scoff. Some choice. The only option now was to pick hard labor or imprisonment.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

‘Run.’ Whispered a breathy voice. The darker thoughts raced through Sloan’s mind about the horrors Phyllis may have suffered while being imprisoned by the Djinn. All logic was bleeding out as the more desperate thoughts flooded in. Before he realized it, Sloan was out of the chair, backing up towards the door. Sloan did not get far because the woman from earlier was waiting for him on the other side of the door. She grabbed Sloan’s arm to twist it painfully behind his back.

“Thank you, Rita.” the Admin complimented, walking towards Sloan. The two men stared hard at one another for a few tense seconds. With one smooth motion, the Admin bent over just low enough to unholster Sloan’s flute. The man weighed the instrument in his hand for a moment before addressing Sloan.

“You won’t be needing this anymore. Pity, this is such a lovely instrument. Wonder how shiny buttons made out this will be.” With that, the Admin waved Rita to take Sloan away. “Rita, order some guards to search the outlet for the coin. It seems Mr. Sloan will be staying with us longer than we originally thought.”

“Sir.” Rita dutifully replied. Sloan’s mind was racing, trying to find some way out of this situation. Rita steered Sloan all the way to the foyer when the front doors opened to reveal an excited looking Martin, holding his art supplies box.

“Oh hey, Richie how’d…it…go.” Martin’s excitement turned to confusion when he noticed his friend being manhandled. Normally Sloan would viciously correct the man but now wasn’t the time. Rita ignored the newest distraction to lead Sloan off to a room elsewhere in the building when Martin tried to stop her.

“Excuse me, what is going on here?” Martin asked, trying to grab Rita’s arm to stop her. Rita, in turn, shrugged off Martin’s hand so violently the Art Talent dropped his supplies all over the floor. Unknowingly, Rita stomped on several coloring wax sticks, causing her to lose her balance on the overly polished floors. With a sickening crack, the bodyguard’s head hit the floor and she stopped moving. Sloan knelt to check her pulse.

“Oh my! She’s dead! We killed her!” Martin panicked.

“We?” Sloan asked, looking up from the bodyguard. He was fully satisfied with the steady strong pulse he was feeling.

“SOMEBODY CALL A DOCTOR!” Martin called out. Sloan launched forward to cover the flailing man’s mouth.

“She’s not dead you idiot! Look.” Sloan commanded nodding towards the woman stirring. “See? She is fine. Now if it is ok with you I’d like to get out of here.”

“But- “

“Now!” Sloan commanded, pulling Martin out of the building. The two of them raced towards the outlet at top speed.

“What do we do now?” Martin asked, locking the front door.

“Well, we can wait here- “

“Uh huh.”

“And get arrested.” Sloan offered.

“Or?” Martin pressed.

“Skip town?” Sloan suggested.

“Skip town?” Martin repeated. “That’s exactly what we were trying to do! Are you crazy?”

“I ask myself that every day.” Sloan lightly commented. Sloan then ignored the affronted sputtering of Martin in favor of grabbing food off the shelf. Martin stared at Sloan while catching his breath.

“You can help you know?” Sloan snapped.

“Don’t bother. I already packed.” The outlet keeper admitted, looking away.

“When-?” Sloan asked.

“Last night. I was finally able to show my drawings to Abigail and she said I had Talent. And then you were trying to get out of here and I thought…maybe I could too.” Martin shrugged. Still looking away from Sloan, Martin saw several tall burly men coming towards the store.

“Ok enough male bonding, we got to go.” Martin stated, pushing away from the door.

“Where? This is the only entrance besides the kitchen.” Sloan pointed out. Martin thought for a second.

“The roof?” He offered. Sloan’s face broke out into a maniacal grin.

“That’s perfect!” Sloan exclaimed before rushing up the stairs.

“No, it’s not,” Martin admitted to only himself. Realizing he didn’t have a choice, he rushed up the stairs after his cohort. When Martin made it up Sloan was already shouldering his bag to climb out the window. The windows overlooked the solid awning covering the porch so their descent would be too high up. Yet still-

“This is a bad idea.” Martin complained, watching Sloan climb out the window. Cursing under his breath Martin, grabbed his own much smaller bag from near the kitchen to follow the madman. Without another word, the two men carefully stepped out onto the awning. The awning was slightly slanted to help melting snow run off the building. One wrong move and the two of them would tumble right off the side. They both picked their way across the roof, trying to avoid rotting shingles that littered the surface. Sadly, one of the steps Martin took was a bad one for he fell right into Sloan, who promptly fell off the roof.

Surprisingly, they were both relatively unharmed. Covered in the dust they kicked up, they fell onto a pile of tarps in Abigail’s wagon. While Martin was still reeling over their luck, Sloan grabbed one of the tarps to throw over them both.

“What’s going on out here?” Abigail demanded, storming out of the Outlet just as one of the guards arrived.

“Ma’am, it would be best to clear off before things get hairy.” the man warned.

“Clear off? Where are Martin and the other guy?” Abigail asked.

“All I can say is that they are in a lot of trouble that you should distance yourself from.” the guard pressed, trying to be as gentle as possible.

“Fine.” Abigail conceded in a sad tone. The cart jostled a little when she remounted. “Come along, Basil.”

There was a snapping of reigns and the cart began to move away from the store. Sloan almost didn’t dare to breathe as the sounds of the store being ransacked got further away.

“Sir, it is the bird!” A voice called out, freezing Sloan’s blood.

“Quick. Follow it. It will lead us to its master.” Said a second voice from further away. To Sloan’s surprise, the sounds of the guards faded away. After a few long minutes, Sloan was finally able to relax. No matter how annoying she may be, Talon got the job done.

Once the adrenaline from fleeing town began wearing off, Sloan began to feel bored. Time ticked on slowly with only the occasional bump in the road to break the monotony. Martin had either fallen asleep or passed out from the heat some time ago. Fear of even sneezing would alert Abigail to their presence. Sloan refused to move. Sloan was left alone to his thoughts. When he began to question things such as food and bathroom breaks, the cart stopped.

Sloan paused while he heard shuffling near the front of the cart. It went quiet for a second.

A breath later, the sharp end of a rapier pierced through the tarp stretched between the two fugitives. With a flick of her wrist, Abigail tossed off the covering. Peering down at them like a cat over her prey, Abigail had her weapon trained on Sloan. “Well. Well. What critters crawled into my cart?” Abigail asked brightly. Martin gave a dopey smile up at her.

“Hey, Abby.” He slurred as her face turned a shade of pink. “What are you two doin’ here? I thought y’all got arrested.” Abigail tried to change the topic as she casually sheathed her weapon.

“Well, that’s a bit of a long story.” Martin smiled, trying to seem as innocent as possible. Abigail raised an eyebrow in disbelief. All conversation was cut short by Basil screeching in terror.

“Basil what is-oh no.” Both stowaways were forgotten for the horror that was staring them down now. Looking over the side of the cart, Sloan saw a pack of wild dogs closing in on the cart. If it were wolves it would be different. They seemed to garner some fear towards humans. Even though it was only four dogs, Sloan knew these brutish breeds could take down an elk.

“Don’t just sit there! Find something to defend yourself with!” Abigail commanded. One of the wild dogs grew bold as it charged Basil. The old horse delivered a well-placed kick to the dog’s ribs, sending it flying back into the brush. The second dog, a Chow, was much smarter as it leapt onto the riding bench of the wagon where Abigail was standing her ground. Focusing on finding something to defend himself with, Sloan dove into the traveling trunk wedged under the riding bench.

The cart wobbled as another dog attempted to get at the two men in the back. Martin smacked the dog with his pack, causing it to fall off the wagon. Panic settling in, Sloan began tossing items out of the trunk, searching for anything. Then he found it. Lying tucked in one of the corners of the bottom of the trunk was a hand carved wooden flute. All guilt for everything was suppressed as he brought the instrument to his lips.

He blew a singular note that seemed to fill the air with his will. Even Basil calmed at the sound of the note. The sound from the wood was different than the sounds he could make with the metal flute. Maybe it was the fact that it was at least an inch shorter than his previous flute or maybe the simple fact it was made of wood, either way, Sloan didn’t care. Using the Song of Hearts, he urged the dogs back to the wild. Once the last tapered tail disappeared back into the brush, Martin and Abigail finally relaxed. Adrenaline fading from them their bodies, they slumped over from exhaustion.

Sloan, on the other hand, remained rigid. His body was still singing from using his Talent. His entire being was drinking in the magic he had produced. This was even better than when he used his Talent the night of the Gala. It was kind of funny really, his old Master was adamant about how technology would one day overrule all facets of Talent. So much so that he refused to let Sloan play with nothing else but the metal flutes.

“Is he alright?”Abigail’s voice cut through Sloan’s thoughts.

“No clue. Hey, buddy?” Martin inquired, poking Sloan in the leg.

“Mmmm?” Sloan hummed back, clearly still in a daze.

“Abigail was talking to you.” Martin informed him, looking up warily at his former employee.

“Oh.”

“I was just thanking you for your quick thinking is all. If you hadn’t reacted when you did we wouldn’t have survived.” She looked annoyed by something before speaking again.

“Well anyway. I guess I am in your debt now.” Abigail sighed, settling back into the driver’s spot.

“So does that mean you’re not taking us back then?” Martin pressed, climbing up into the front seat next to Abigail. The woman gave a suffering sigh as she snapped Basil’s reigns to urge the horse forward.

“Don’t get too excited, I am only taking you as far as Amoria. And that is all!” she plainly stated.

“That’s fine by me. How’s about you there, Richie?” Martin asked over his shoulder. Leaning between the two in the front, Sloan steadied himself against the motion of the cart. He had slipped the wooden flute back into his leg holster out of pure habit. Even with it being an inch shorter than his original instrument, it still poked out just enough to be grasped.

“So what, is that it? No guards? No threats?” Sloan pressed, looking up at the road worn woman.

“Nope.” The merchant said back. She didn’t even bother looking away from the road to answer him. Sloan made a noise as a response as he slid down to sit in the back. As he tidied the back of the cart from earlier, Abigail began speaking again.

“You are an amazing Talent, Richie- “

“Sloan.” The man in question corrected her.

“Sloan.” Abigail corrected herself. “You could have easily used those wild animals to your advantage, but you didn’t.” She gave a pause before continuing. “I think that gives you one free pass.”

“Thank you,” Sloan replied quietly. Martin immediately began talking rapidly to Abigail. While Martin began recalling exactly how the two of them ended up on the lam, Sloan made himself comfortable. A smile broke across his face as he spotted a speck of black in the distance. Sloan was sure Talon had quite the story when she finally rejoined him.

* * *

“Nope,” Phyllis announced as she tossed a coin over her shoulder into the sea of other coins. Stripped down to her under dress, she was a sight to behold. To her immediate left, flattened out as much as possible, was her party dress. Coins were laid neatly in little rows with the wish side facing up.

The root of her behavior started three weeks ago, around the time Richard was arrested. In a fit of misery, Phyllis had curled in upon herself to have a good cry when her hand touched the coin embedded in her forehead. Instantly, Phyllis was dropped into the memory of Richard making the deal with the Djinn. As if she was an outsider looking at a play, she watched her husband make his mistake.

When the memory was over Phyllis awoke back in the Djinn’s treasure room. She looked around, utterly thrown off at what just happened. Trying to recreate the event, Phyllis realized that the only thing she had done differently was that her hand brushed up against the accursed coin embedded in her forehead. With a slight bit of hesitation, Phyllis touched the coin on her head again. The memory of the day Richard made his wish played before her once again. The second she came back to the treasure room she grabbed the nearest coin to look at it more closely.

It was crazy, she knew. There was no telling if her idea would even work. Or worse, it would work too well and she’d be lost in a loop of someone else’s memories. Contemplating her next move, Phyllis tossed the coin back in the sea. Touching her temples, Phyllis tried to think about what made her coin so special.

Screwing her eyes shut, she wracked her brain to try and scrounge up a mental image of the coin she bears. It only lasted for a split second, so the memory was hazy at best. Eyes flying open, Phyllis felt stupid, all she had to do was fall asleep and she’d be transported directly towards where Richard was. Flopping gracelessly on her back, Phyllis forced herself to go to sleep.

Waking back up in reality next to Richard still felt like waking from a nightmare. With a mental shake, Phyllis reminded herself that this wasn’t a leisure visit. No, this Sewing Talent was on a mission. Richard was heading towards a room Phyllis did not recognize at first. For being a prisoner, the accommodations were better than she’d been expecting. Even though logically Phyllis knew Richard couldn’t hear her she still slipped in after her husband. Distracted by the lines of clothes drying over a bathtub, Richard pulled his now dry cloak off the line, causing Phyllis to smile.

“And you said you’d ‘have no use for that sort of thing’.” Phyllis quoted with a giggle to herself. A brief flash of yellow caught her attention. Hidden under a thick layer of dirt was a mirror. Squinting with all her might Phyllis tried to get a better look at the coin embedded on her face. The words, ‘I wish to be the greatest Flute Talent ever’ reflected just like before. The only difference was the material the coin seemed to be made from, silver rather than gold. Face mere centimeters from the glassy surface, Phyllis tried to see if she could pull the coin out. A pull from around her middle stopped all further experiments, Richard was leaving the bathroom. Choosing to follow rather than waking up back in the treasure room, Phyllis followed.

The room Richard entered caused Phyllis to pause, the room was an utter wreck. Dusty, full of cobwebs, with a dingy pile of clothes in the shape of a mattress. Richard threw the nice, custom made cloak his wife made him on top of that dirty pile. Completely void of all energy, Richard crawled on top the dirty pile to wrap up in the cloak to sleep. Phyllis never thought she’d ever seen anyone go to bed so sad before. Looking around, Phyllis realized something was missing.

“Where’s your friend?” She asked, not expecting an answer. The bird, Talon, if she remembers correctly, was missing. “I guess it is to be expected. He he. Look at us. Who are we kidding? A couple of fools on a fool’s errand.” Phyllis laid down on the floor facing Richard. She reached out to attempt to stroke her beloved’s face but she couldn’t. Her touch meant no more than a shadow to him. Tears of frustration welled up in Phyllis’s eyes. Out of sheer habit, she dipped into her handkerchief pocket only to have a silver coin fall out along with the cloth. Seeing the silver coin caused her heart to jump a little. She picked it up to examine it.

On one side the words ‘I wish to sing like a bird’ were inscribed just like all the others. Turning it over, she saw the text ‘Human form’. Puzzled, Phyllis had literally no idea what that even meant. Even more flustered than before, Phyllis went to cover her face with the hand still holding the coin. The second the two coins made even the most minute of contact it triggered Phyllis to be drawn into the memory.

Phyllis was now plopped right in the middle of a busy city bustling with people. From directly behind her a young female’s voice spoke,

‘Wishing well. Wishing well.

How you cast your magic spell?

Take a coin, make your wish

Then toss it in with a mighty splish.”

As per tradition on the ‘splish’, the wish maker threw in the coin. Turning around, Phyllis was less interested in the little girl making her wish than seeing Richard standing next to said little girl. When Phyllis went to call out, the Djinn descended like a liquid smoke.

“Clever. Clever, girl.” The man smiled with a wicked glint in his eye. “But sadly, not clever enough.”

“What do you mean?” Phyllis groused. The Djinn casually place his arm on her shoulder to turn her away from Richard wandering around asking random passer by what was going on.

“You see; you are not the first living prize I have ever taken nor will you be the last. When you’ve been doing this as long as I have you tend to learn from your mistakes.” The Being rotated his wrist to produce two gold coins. “Thelma and Herbert here used this very trick to discover where my fountains resided. Almost got them all too, if only Thelma here could have lasted a little bit longer. Then again, that’s nature I suppose. You, humans get too much Magic in you and just lose your minds.” The Djinn tossed the coins away just to have them dissolve into smoke. “A little ironic seeing as that all you have is your Talent at the end of the day.” The Djinn mentioned as an afterthought. Phyllis glared, internally debating whether he was lying or not.

“Tell you what...” The Djinn wrapped his arm further around Phyllis’s shoulder to draw her in closer. “I’ll keep letting you use my treasure to show your husband these visions under one condition.” Phyllis narrowed her eyes in distrust. The Djinn gave a chuckle. “Before your life expires you make your one wish.”

“Why do you do this? Trick people under the false pretense into signing their life away to you.” Phyllis blurted out. “What could you possibly gain from causing such misery?”

“Life, my dear.” The Djinn leaned in so close to Phyllis’s face she was able to see a band of fiery red pulsing through the irises of the monster. “I live and breathe the misery you brought upon yourselves by your own greed. You creatures bemoan for trinkets and adulation to the point you sell your very souls to me. Claim the moral high ground all you want but I’ve seen what your kind is capable of and it keeps me well-fed. So…” The Djinn drew out the word longer than was needed. “Do we have a deal or not?” Phyllis looked down at the ground for a second before looking back up to reply,

“Deal.”

* * *

'So, I banked left around those two buildings that have like a foot between them, right? Then I spotted an open window. Quickly I dived right in to see if the morons would follow me.’ Talon explained, hopping up and down while she told her story. Sloan hummed and hawed at the correct places. From the other side of the campfire, Martin and Abigail watched Sloan as he talked to Talon.

“Why is he talking to that bird?” Abigail whispered.

“Maybe it is a Music Talent thing.” Martin suggested. Sloan couldn’t hear a word they were saying over Talon’s in-depth retelling of her harrowing escape. Abigail shrugged her shoulders in favor of looking for an apple to eat. She hummed as she counted through her food stock.

“Um, guys?” She called out. Even Talon stopped talking at the nervousness in Abigail’s voice.

“What’s wrong?” Asked Sloan and Martin at the same time. Abigail took a breath before answering.

“Seems we have miscalculated exactly how much food we have left.” She explained, moving back towards the fire.

“Meaning?” Sloan asked. Abigail sighed loudly.

“We only have enough food for breakfast.”

“WHAT?” Martin, Sloan, and Talon shrieked together. Though all Martin and Abigail heard was a loud bird squawk. Abigail motioned for them to calm down.

“You’re a food merchant. How can you possibly be out of food?” Martin asked.

“That’s…agh! That isn’t my food. Everything I ship is for the town I am delivering to. My food, on the other hand, is stored in my trunk away from the shipment. If I don’t do that I would be eating away at my profit margin. Literally!” Abigail shot back.

“So now what do we do?” Sloan asked, rubbing his head. “I mean really, who packs just enough food for the trip there?”

‘Well…’ Talon trailed off.

“Shut up.” Sloan snapped back. Martin and Abigail shared a look of concern. Talking to yourself was one thing. Arguing with yourself and losing was another.

“Anyway.” Martin interjected. “We cannot go back to Camp Hope. So, all we can do is move forward. Abigail, are there any edible plants around here?”

“Well, yeah. There are some root vegetables and the like.” She admitted. “Not four stars but they will sustain us until we get where we are going.”

“So, no meat?” Martin slumped.

“Well, kinda. If you are lucky enough to actually catch them, there are wild hare and the occasional deer.” Abigail nodded. Martin didn’t seem too pleased by the new bit of information.

“It’s best not to think too hard about that just yet.” Sloan comforted him. “After all, it might take less time than we think to get to Amoria.” Martin and Abigail nodded in agreement. As the four of them turned in for the night, a thought occurred to Sloan as he slipped the flute under his makeshift pillow.

A spotty second day of travel lowered moral dangerously quickly. The water supply was rationed to the hardest working member of their group, Basil. While he drank, his human counterparts were left to squeeze water from cacti. Martin insisted on being the one to search for food after Abigail provided the transport while Sloan kept them safe from wild animals. When he came back from gathering, Sloan could tell it was going to be a long hungry night.

“Just enough for the three of us.” Martin admitted, showing them the three tubers along with a few edible berries. Taking his frustration out on the cactus core he was squeezing for water, Sloan’s idea from last night popped up again.

“I could do it.” Sloan whispered aloud.

‘Do what?’ Asked Talon. She didn’t even bother to stop preening her feathers.

“Get meat.” Sloan replied in the same hushed tone. That got Talon’s attention.

‘How?’ She asked. Sloan stopped twisting the cacti core to talk to Talon. “You’ll see. HEY, YOU TWO!.” Sloan yelled towards Martin and Abigail, who were working on the fire for the night.

“Yeah?” Martin said, walking a little closer to hear better. The man looked miserable and tired.

“How’s about I go looking for food this time around?” Sloan casually offered. The Art Talent perked up a little bit at the chance to sit down for a change.

“Really?” Martin attempted to keep his voice steady.

“Sure. Sure.” Sloan set aside his project to have Martin switch places with him.

Taking the machete, Sloan wrapped the belted sheath around his waist before he made his way to see what he could find. Sliding down a dried-up riverbed, Sloan took out his stolen flute, much to Talon’s surprise.

‘Well, it is about time!’ Talon exclaimed excitedly. ‘Wait a minute. Let me see that.’ Sloan held the flute closer for Talon to get a proper look. ‘This isn’t yours. Where did you get that?’

“Oh, Abigail gave it to me.” Technically, she never asked for it back so Sloan planned on keeping it until she asked.

‘That was nice of her, but what happened to your other one?’

“Oh, the Camp Administrator decided to keep it to try to get me to give back the Djinn coin.” Sloan couldn’t care less at the moment, though. He’d been itching to try out the flute in its full capacity.

‘What? That’s insane!’ Talon squawked.

“Yeah, well, I am a thief and I did steal part of a national monument so I can see where he is coming from. Alright, the moment of truth.” Sloan started playing, expecting the rush of energy he always felt while using his Talent. At one point, he had closed his eyes and started to reach out in all directions rather than at a specific target. Further and further, Sloan felt his Talent latching onto animals the longer he played. Only when Talon cried out in fear was Sloan’s concentration broken.

“What in the world?” Sloan exclaimed when he saw the cause of Talon’s outburst. Bugs, lizards, two hares and even a deadly rattlesnake were lined up in neat little rows staring pointedly at Sloan. Even though Sloan wasn’t using his Talent anymore the animals stood stark still as if waiting for further instructions.

‘Do it.’ A voice breathed, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up.

Sloan didn’t even hesitate. In a fluid moment, the Music Talent slid the machete out of the sheath to decapitate the rattlesnake. Talon screamed as the animals scattered. Trance broken, Sloan blinked to look down at the flailing body of the snake. With a quick swear, Sloan quickly took several steps back to avoid getting bit by the snake’s fangs.

‘WHAT WAS THAT?’ Talon screamed while she bolted off Sloan’s shoulder.

“Dinner. I just didn’t expect to get such a good catch.” Sloan used the machete to bat the now still snake’s head far away from him.

‘You just lopped that thing’s head off.’ the bird-girl stated as if saying it out loud would make it more real. ‘How’d you get them to stand there like that?’

“The same way I’ve always done, with the Song of Hearts.” Sloan picked up the snake by its rattled tail, trying to keep the bleeding part away from him.

‘I meant after you stopped playing.’ She paused at the question. How did he keep control over the animals after he stopped playing?

“It’s hard to explain.” Sloan diverted, trying to drop the subject. In all actuality, it was incredibly easy to explain. It was a power the likes of which no man should possess and Sloan knew it. Feeling the will of the animals break under Sloan’s Talent felt good. Rubbing his arm, Sloan felt the goose bumps still prickling on his arm from the exhilaration. He wanted more.

Returning with the now still body of the snake, Sloan and Talon made to return triumphant from their hunt.

Since making camp and food gathering was top priority, getting back Amoria was taking twice as long as it normally would have. Each day, Sloan became more irrational and irritable. By day four, Talon decided she didn’t want to go look for food with him anymore.

Perched on his shoulder, Talon noticed that every time Sloan played, she started to feel the effects of the song. Her mind would become muddled, eager to obey the commands at a moment’s notice. The effects wouldn’t last long but it still left Talon shaken. On this morning, Sloan had risen earlier than usual. Disturbed from his sleep by yet another nightmare Talon assumed, judging by how he always woke up violently. Usually, the man would wake up just to turn over and go back to sleep. Instead, he slipped on his signature cloak to fight off the still icy desert air to grab his flute. Talon chose to stay behind instead of following this time as she feigned sleep.

“Come on Talon, let’s go,” Sloan commanded, not looking at her. Acting on its own accord, Talon felt her body spring to obey. With a quick fluff of her feathers, Talon was already perched on Sloan’s shoulders before she could protest.

‘You’re up early.’ Talon attempted to make small talk. Sloan made a grunt as he just kept walking. Sloan found a mound of sand to stand on before taking out his flute. Talon braced herself, dreading the playing of the song already. He pressed the instrument to his lips before belting out a loud, long single note. A warm gust of air brushed passed the two of them as nothing happened. Talon released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“KeeeeyAAA!” The screech was a sound from Talon’s nightmares. Descending from the sky was the form of the biggest bird of prey she had ever seen. In that instant, Talon had a flashback from when she was first turned into a bird. Razor sharp claws, outstretched, crushing her wings, crippling her while a knife-like beak would rip into her. Talon fell backwards in a panic as Sloan was too focused on having the winged death land heavily on his outstretched arm.

“Bring me fruit.” Sloan peered into the bird’s eyes in a voice that wasn’t quite his own. It was like two people were saying the exact same thing at the same time. The bird gave a smaller keen in reply before taking off again. Righting herself, Talon fluffed her feather to get what sand she could get off them.

‘It’s kinda scary how good you are getting at that.’ Sloan walked over to allow Talon to walk back to her place on his arm.

“I know. I had no idea this level of Talent could be achieved. It is really invigorating.” Sloan gave a shiver.

‘Cold?’ Talon asked, hoping that Sloan wasn’t getting too attached to his new-found ability. She couldn’t really blame him even if he was. Either way, tomorrow they’ll be in Amoria and then…

The terrible plan. Who knows, maybe the plan was brilliant in its simplicity. Or, it was their one-way ticket to the afterlife. Talon cleaned her left wing, really thinking about the rest of her life. What if her life was cut drastically short now that she was in a bird’s body? Thinking even further in long term, would she even be ok if she lived to be a hundred while being a bird?

Right now, all Talon really wanted was to be enveloped in a warm hug, with her mother patting down her hair telling her everything was going to be ok. If she could cry, she would have started by now. Ever since she met Sloan, Talon knew she could never go back to an endless search for food while not being dinner yourself. Now that she had a taste of human warmth and comfort, Talon craved it worse than when she was first changed. Even if her life ended tomorrow, Talon refused to allow herself to be a victim any longer.

For the final leg of their trip to Amoria, no one really spoke. Martin and Abigail never really left each other’s side, while Sloan would brood. Talon would settle nearby, watching, waiting…for what, she didn’t even know anymore. She would just have to wait. Sleepless nights made Sloan short tempered and irritable, to say the least.

Both Talon and Sloan were nervous as to how they were going to get in this time since the two of them were criminals. While Martin and Abigail were talking up front about what Martin was planning on doing with his new-found freedom, Talon and Sloan were having their own conversation. Sitting with both legs dangling off the back of the cart, Sloan was looking exhausted. Deep, purple bags hung heavily under Sloan’s eyes as he stared blankly at the ground.

‘Ok, so what is the plan?’ Talon asked from her perch on the side cart.

“Well, it’s kind of a long shot and flimsy at best.” Sloan blinked at the passing ground.

‘Are we talking about getting into Amoria or defeating the Djinn?’ Sloan gave a weak chuckle before answering.

“Both, I suppose. I mean… all I got is hiding inside Abigail’s trunk.” Jerking his thumb behind him, Sloan answered.

‘Even for you that is a weak plan.’ In response, Sloan shrugged before lying back to look at the sky. ‘I mean seriously, you spent a week thinking of that.’

“Hey, I was doing other things, like gathering food. What were you doing?” Sloan accused, pointing at Talon without lifting his head.

‘Oh no. Do not pin this on me. See, you’re the idea guy while I’m the one who has to literally swoop down and rescue your sorry hide when things go wrong. Which, might I add, is all the time.’ Even though no one was watching her Talon fluffed up her feathers anyway. Puffing out a breath of tired air, Sloan slung his arm over his eyes to shield them the sun.

“If that’s the case let’s just start with that.” Sloan countered weakly.

‘Actually, that isn’t a half bad idea. If we create a big enough distraction, we can just slip right on past everyone. That still leaves us needing some form of ID, trust me they are just as strict when it comes to residences so we need that. So how are we going to do this? Do I just fly in or what?’ Talon rambled off, waiting for Sloan to chime in. When she was met with silence, Talon looked down to see Sloan had fallen asleep. She could easily wake him up but instead, she said,

‘Sweet dreams.’ And she meant it.

* * *

“Ok, we’re here!” Martin announced, startling Sloan awake.

“What’s goin’ on?” Sloan bolted upright, looking frantically around. Behind him, Martin and Abigail had dropped down from the driver’s bench.

“We’re here in Amoria.” Martin smiled. Looking closer at his surroundings, Sloan noticed that they were at a different part of the outer wall than when he first came here. Apparently, merchants and traders entered in a different part of the city than just pedestrians. The cart was second in line to be inspected. Guards collected the carts when the inspecting area was clear. Standing up, Sloan noticed several other people inspecting the carts wearing yellow bandanas.

“I’ve got an idea.” Sloan still had his eyes locked on the now shut double doors. “You know how you’re always coming in to cause a distraction so I can get away?”

‘Yeah?’

“Hows about we start with that instead.”

‘Now you’re talking.’

“Ok, so to start you’re going to sit on top of that the ledge up there and wait for me to throw my hands up. That’s the signal. Now, when I give the signal you’re going to dive bomb in the inspecting area to cause a great ruckus. While everyone is trying to catch, you I’ll swipe a bandana off one of those workers and then slip right into the city.”

‘Not as terrible as your other plans but hey, you’ve been lucky so far.’ Talon admitted.

“Love you too. Now get going, it’s almost our turn.”

“Hey, Sloan? Ya coming?” Martin called out when he noticed that his friend wasn’t making his way to the check-in area.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there. Just need to get something out of the trunk.” Sloan called back, noticing the doors to the inspection area opening again.

“Sir is there a problem?” Asked a female guard approaching the cart.

“No ma’am, just need to get something out of the trunk.” Sloan smiled.

“Well, if you just follow your companion to the proper door I can guarantee whatever it is you are going to get will be safe.” The woman patiently assured him.

“You know what? I understand. Just traveling stresses me out so much I get a little paranoid time to time. I’ll just let you do your job then.” Sloan lifted his arms to show he was harmless.

Talon gave a loud screech as she descended into the open doors. What the two of them weren’t expecting was Basil being startled so bad he took off running. People dived out of the way to avoid being trampled by a terrified horse dragging a cart. Sloan fell on his face when Basil took off. To make matters worse the cart in front of theirs hadn’t fully exited the inspecting area. Basil made a sharp turn to try and avoid ramming into the other cart. During the turn, Sloan was tossed from the cart, along with his bag. Rolling several times, Sloan allowed the world to spin around him as he regained his senses. People started to crowd around to see what was going on when Talon called out.

‘What are you doing? We need to get going.’ Talon called out in both their link as well as making bird noises.

“Oh, my back.” Sloan complained as he picked himself up out of the dirt. Nothing felt broken but it was much harder to breathe now.

“Sir, do you need a doctor?” Asked one of the bystanders. In an attempt to look perfectly happy, Sloan mustered up a grin and waved off the person.

“I just need to walk it off a little is all.” He waved slowly, slinking away from the concerned citizen.

“Alright then.” The young man frowned, confused on what he should be doing. He looked torn between forcing Sloan to go get looked at but still trying to be respectful of his wishes. During the man’s internal debate, Sloan picked a direction and took off. Stumbling through the crowd, Sloan eventually made it to the town center. With the bulk of the pain simmering down, Sloan could see the changes made to the fountain. The township had left a fair amount of rubble left over from the original Nomad’s Spike as a base for the new statue. Rising from the rubble was a bold white marble carved phoenix, wings spread as if it were about to take flight. Embedded on the breast of the symbol of rebirth was a new coin.

Only by the fires of adversity can the Phoenix can be born.

‘Wow, that’s cheesy.’ Talon had apparently found Sloan. Surprised, Sloan didn’t notice the bird-girl’s arrival. He didn’t even bother to look at her.

‘Traitor.’ Whispered the wind. Sloan flinched subconsciously.

‘Here is your bandana.’ Talon indicated to her claws. Sloan reached up with his right arm to grab it when he felt a twinge of pain. Peering down, he noticed there was now a large hole in the elbow of his sleeve.

Through the hole, Sloan could see his elbow scraped red and bloody from the fall. Now that he noticed it, he felt the wound throb with pain.

‘Ouch that looks bad.’ Talon sounded remorseful.

“Yeah, well it wouldn’t have happened if you just would have stuck to the plan.” Sloan took the bandana to wrap around his left forearm.

‘ME? What’d I do?’ Rolling his eyes, Sloan paused while he made sure the knot was properly secured so it wouldn’t fall off.

“You spooked the horses. That wasn’t part of the plan. You know how much damage you caused back there?” Sloan waved his hand back toward where they came in.

‘Hey, nobody could predict that Basil was going to freak out like that, ok? Besides, it all worked out in the end.’ Talon gave a full body fluff as if to shrug off responsibility.

“You know what? What’s done is done. Let’s just go pick up some things.” His tone dripped with false joviality.

‘Yeah, sure.’ Talon agreed, showing no emotion.

Neither one of them attempted to start up a conversation as Sloan shopped. Utterly annoyed as she was at her companion’s behavior, Talon knew the coldness she was feeling towards Sloan would wear off. Talon decided to follow near Sloan rather than perch on his shoulder like they’d been doing. Being that close to him made her feel…prickly. Like when a new feather was trying to come in after a molt. Just thinking about it made Talon’s full body shake just to get rid of the phantom tingle.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” Sloan roared. Talon took to the air for a second, fearing they were under attack. When she realized it was her companion shouting, she flew down to hear better. Sloan’s face was twisted into a snarl. The stall clerk was pressing himself into the barrel behind him. Probably in hopes it would swallow him up.

“I don’t know what to tell you, sir. The price is clearly- “

“Are you calling me stupid?” Sloan inquired in a tone that would freeze the sun. “I can read. I also know that vendors, such as yourself, like to hike up the price of goods to turn a tidy profit.”

“I assure you that all of my goods are fairly priced. We have the best apples in the country so the prices- “

“Ugh. I have no time for your excuses- “At that point, Talon was done. Sure, Sloan wasn’t the sweetest person she had ever met but he had a good heart beating underneath all that gruff. Now Talon didn’t even know what to make of him. Figuring that hiding out in a tree for a while might be a better option at this point, Talon took off.

“TALON! GET BACK HERE NOW!” The command broke in, shredding through her thoughts. Talon was reminded of the time her father pulled her backward by the collar of her shirt. Her wings seemed to freeze up, causing her to free fall backward. Fortunately, she managed to regain control before she hit the ground. With a great effort, Talon managed to find a safe spot to regain her wits. Satisfied with his charge’s new compliance, Sloan went back to badgering the stall clerk. Leaving Talon to wonder what her eventual fate would be.