Granny kicks me out. Yura is in a bad way, and I'm not much good hovering around, asking if there's anything I can do. Apparently, Yura had a spell like this last night; “It’s like the girl gets possessed. I’ll keep watch over her. You go on now.”

Then she tells me to wait one second, before she forgets. Granny shoves an old wooden box, about the size of a small book, into my hands and tells me to come back some other time. "The girl really did want to see you," she says, her wrinkled face betraying no emotion. If she’s annoyed or concerned, there is no tell. She barely even mentions the box, muttering something about the former mayor wanting it to go to the next mayor.

With a surprising burst of dexterity, she hoists Yura up in her arms and carries the girl, her baby still suckling gently, to the back room where I glimpse a makeshift bed on the floor between shelves. A little hammock goes across, and the toddler boy stands on a stool, hesitating before climbing into it. He looks at me as I pause by the front door, my hand on the glass, wishing I could stay, wishing I could help somehow. Isn't that what a mayor is supposed to do? Isn't that what decent people do?

I wave at the boy. He waves back, but it's a shy, unsure wave, more of a flop. Then he rubs his cheeks where his mother's hand had left a dark red imprint on his pink skin. My face stings out of sympathy, and I can't get Yura's expression out of my head. The frozen shock. The way she stared into space and the way she'd held onto her children. At least she hadn't squeezed the baby like that. The words she kept repeating, I'm not here right now, I'm not here right now, I'm not here right now, struck me in a familiar, almost nostalgic way.

It's something I used to do when I was a kid, and maybe I still did it later, and I know for sure I did after Jia passed away. How many nights did I lie awake, my eyes shut as banging and shouting came from the living room, as I told myself I wasn't there? How many times did I walk to the train station, force a smile at work, or sit quietly in class, with those very same words on my mind?

I'm trying not to cry as I hurry up the road. I wish I could help Yura the way Jia had once helped me, but I trust Granny. She's rough and coarse but also incredibly kind. It makes my heart ache. She'd helped me yesterday, a complete stranger. She'd given me shoes. Then she'd taken in another stranger, giving her and her two kids a place to stay. That can't be easy. What can I do to help? How can I help? I'm the mayor, but it's not like I have access to money or any actual power. And that creep from the church is after her. He’d called her property. Bitterness twists in my gut like a knife. Anger threatens to suffocate me as I picture the enormous priest and his egg-shaped body. What did he do to Yura to leave her in such a state? Why was he going after her? How am I supposed to protect her?

I'm useless. I've always been useless.

But that thought is no help at all. Blinking to stop the tears, I walk away from the Grocery, squeezing the box. The wood is dark and old, and something's rattling inside, but I can't tell what it is by sound. It might be metallic.

As I pass by the Tavern, Sal is out outside shuttering windows. He raises his hand. "Big storm on the way, Madam Mayor."

I glance up, squinting cause the sun's so bright and the sky's so blue. What the heck is he talking about? "How do you know?" I call back.

He shrugs and rubs the back of his bald head. "Stay here long enough, and you just feel it." With a smile, he waves again and then fastens the wooden shutters, and I carry on, thinking about that. If I turn into Puddle, would I be able to feel the rain coming? I try to aim my thoughts at the Dewdrop Slime mind, wondering if it could tell me somehow, but it's dormant and quiet. I blush slightly, remembering what being the slime was like, that desperate need to be squeezed.

It's been another day where too much has happened. Too many people, especially those Church people. I take a breath, walking, eyes shut as the wind picks up and threatens to take my straw hat. Okay, that had to be a storm wind, right? The trees ahead rustle fiercely, branches and leaves scratching, and I stare at the wooden entrance gate.

Somehow, it fits so perfectly with the trees in the background. There's a natural vibe to it, something mystical or magical, like something out of a fairytale, but it clashes with the buildings behind me. Then again, the rest of the town looks like it's falling apart. Some structures are caved in and burnt. Everything’s kind of dirty and shabby, and not in the cute, lived-in sort of way, but in the way an abandoned village might look. A lot of it was in desperate need of repairs, and I get the feeling it'll be my job to fix it. I wonder if Bluebell could oversee that. Would people pay him properly? Would he even want to?

But maybe that could be a way to bridge relationships between everyone and Bluebell. That way, they can see he's not a monstrous bear. Then I remember how they'd spoken about Yura's presence, and I grimace. Maybe it won't be so easy.

Standing beneath the gate, looking up at the wooden beam going across several feet over my head, my breathing changes. There's a sense of something, I can't name it, but it's there. And I think about how it wasn't till I'd crossed this gate that I felt the light stirring in my head. The light of the town. The quest, 'To Earn the Right of Representation'.

Some of it's not meshing. How come Mia didn't recognize me as mayor the day before? She'd found me right after the fox snatched away my food. Was she too busy trying to steal my chair and didn’t notice? Or was it because I hadn't received the quest yet?

Did the quest trigger something? Maybe it has to do with Mia's orange coloring. I don't understand this system thing. I don't understand the rules of this place. I don't belong here. Another wind rustles through the branches, and the shushing sounds cut through my thoughts. Leaves whirl around me. There's a scent of rain, the heavy aroma that seeps out of the ground before a storm, and it reminds me of Isabelle. Something warm, or maybe it's cold, I can't tell, climbs up my back like a shiver, and I turn, half expecting to see Isabelle standing by the trees, a cheeky smile on her brown face.

But she's not there, and I'm alone. The town, drenched in sunlight, stares back, and I use the light thing again. Everything shimmers blue, as blue as the sky, and I can feel the strain more now. I must be getting tired. I blink it away and continue up the road, ready to head back to the lighthouse cottage and collapse in bed. I'd done what I'd set out to do. I returned Bluebell's wagon and... well, I ended up doing so much more, and now I have this box. A part of me wants to open it right here and now, curiosity struggling like the Arctic Squirrel's incessant need to keep moving, but another part of me is afraid to look. It's something from the old mayor, from Kivuli's father. Why did he want the next mayor to have it?

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

I hold it with both hands as I walk, as though I'm carrying a holy book. I'm not even sure I'm the mayor yet. Well, technically, I guess I am since it's in my head and some people can see that I'm mayor. But this quest, having to earn the right, makes it seem like that can be taken away. Like I might fail and then I wouldn't be mayor anymore. A part of me wants to fail.

Clouds, thick and dark and pregnant with rain, start rolling into the sky. I think they're coming from the North, from that winter forest, and they’re moving so quickly. Too quickly; it’s so sudden, I almost don’t want to believe it. Sunny one moment, downcast the next. A ferocious wind rises, battering my shirt and my pants, forcing me to take off my hat and carry that too, or else it would get blown away. At least nobody is around to see my thin hair flopping about, but then I make it near the fork in the road and spot a group of people with a large kaballus by the well.

My heart sinks, and I hastily put the hat back on, clutching it firmly with one hand. It's Mia and her men. My light doesn't work here no matter how hard I squint at them. Nothing comes up for anyone. I guess it’s only in town.

For a moment or two, I think about ducking behind a tree until they've gone. It feels like it'll start pouring any second now and the rain will drive them away. But Mia spots me. Her eyes narrow, and even from this distance, I can spot how vibrantly green they are. Her skin glows in the storm's gloom. She'd taken off her black hat, letting the wind tussle her gorgeous blonde hair freely.

The guys notice me too, and they glower, crossing their enormous arms and taking threatening poses. They're definitely a different group of guys from the day before. Actually, I think I recognize one or two of them, but standing beside Mia, all their details blur into the background; she draws attention like lightning to a skyscraper.

Mia slides off her kaballus and walks toward me, arms held stiffly to the sides. Two of the guys move to follow her, and she says something sharp to them over her shoulder. They exchange looks before stepping back, eyeing me like they're itching for an excuse to protect their leader. Her kaballus snorts and claws the ground, and as Mia storms up the road, I suddenly wonder if she's going to punch me in the face.

It's too late to hide now, and she's staring so intently, I can't back down. Her golden locks bounce all over. She'd untied her plaid shirt, but the buttons strain around her chest, and the rest of it flaps in the wind. I get an eyeful of her curves, her smooth navel.

"Not so tough without your witch friend, are you?" she says, stopping a few feet away. Her hands are still balled up into fists. She's glaring, and she practically spits out the next question. "Are you a witch too?" Her eyes flick down to my feet, and I almost want to hide them. I’m so used to other girls judging my cheap footwear back in the city, and Mia’s boots are black and shiny. They look expensive, sexy.

But these are the shoes Granny gave me. I love these shoes. "What do you want?" I ask, not even bothering to answer her questions. I wish I had the letter opener with me. Then again, the wooden box could do decent damage. Without the guys backing her up, I'm fairly sure I can take her in a fight... wait. I can just turn into a Snowstream Bear and then what could she do? What could any of them do? But I don't think this was what Bluebell had in mind when he gave me permission to use his form.

"You headed to the old hag's place?" she says, but her voice wavers like she didn't mean the insult this time. She looks away and takes a breath, opening her hands and running her fingers through her hair, keeping it out of her face as the wind picks up again. She seems almost... shy. "How are you the mayor but also with the shaman?"

I glance at the men waiting by the well. They have their arms crossed, muscular chests flared out, and they're staring so hard, it's almost funny. With the big lizard between them, with Mia standing in front, framing my view, beautiful with the backdrop of a storm, I wish I could take a picture. This could be the cover for a punk rock album. Somehow, I get the feeling Mia can sing.

"It just kinda happened," I tell her with a shrug. I force myself to breathe. I don't think I'm afraid or anxious like I was yesterday. I hold onto my straw hat firmly; I don't want her to see my hair. I don't want her to think less of me for my hair. But I also don't know what she wants. She clearly doesn't want a fight.

"The hat," she says, eyes flicking toward it. Her lips twist like she doesn't want to finish the sentence, but then she adds, "It suits you."

I thought she'd try to take it back. But... is she being nice? How do I respond to that? "Thank... thank you?"

Mia makes a face and shakes her head, staring at the ground again. The wind teases her shirt. "No," she says. "I wanted to thank you. You and the old... the Shaman."

"Me?" I take a deep breath. This feels so weird, and for some reason, I picture her kneeling, like someone swearing their fealty to royalty or something. Is that something I want? I don't think so

For a long moment, she's quiet, turning her head, brushing the hair out of her face, like she's struggling to find the words. She bites her lip and then makes eye contact with me again, and the look is so sudden, so fierce, my heart skips a beat. "Thank you for helping my brother," she says.

"Oh," I whisper, remembering now. Mia is Rory's sister. She looks so sad, almost like she's about to cry, and that doesn't suit her face. I almost want to comfort her, but then I realize there's another layer to it. There's shame. I can always recognize shame.

"Thank you," she says again, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "And for what you said about the pinkie... sorry, the Lashfarnan woman. You are right. She's just trying her best for her kids."

"I..." I don't know how to respond. Do I thank her for thanking me? Did she compliment the hat as if to say, we're even now? I helped her brother so I can keep it? But I'm glad I changed her mind about Yura’s situation. Everyone in town seemed so mad until I called them out on it. Maybe Mia isn't so bad after all.

She smiles, and it's not the cruel smile I'd seen on her face yesterday, but it's not a genuine smile either. It's flat. She looks like she wants to say something more. She opens her mouth, her tongue stuck to the back of her top teeth, and I remember my dream, where she'd scooped me off the ground and placed me in her mouth. Heat rises swiftly to my face, but she doesn't notice.

Mia scowls and places a hand on her hip. "I'm grateful to you, but I don't want any trouble for my farm. The Festival is almost here and there's lots of work to do, so don't think you're the boss of me now, you hear?"

I nod slowly, but I don't quite understand what she's going on about. I almost want to ask; you have a farm? But then she whirls around with a huff, her hair bouncing, and hurries away, walking much more confidently now. The men stand to attention and help Mia climb onto her kaballus.

Feeling rather dumbstruck, I stand there staring. She'd gone from apologetic and grateful to mean and cruel and bossy so quickly, my thoughts spin. I watch all of them head away from the well. The guys flank her on either side and Mia leads on top of her kaballus, its tail swishing back and forth. I rather like how her back looks; she stands tall, and I love her hips and, just as I'm about to start walking too, she looks back, over her shoulder.

She's not scowling or smiling. She just looks curious, lips twisted to one side, and our eyes meet again. I almost raise my hand to wave. My heart jolts. I feel flustered, but she turns as a low thrum of thunder rolls across the sky. A few fat raindrops splash against my hat as I watch Mia and her group disappear up the road to the Farmlands. The sky splits open, and a downpour drops like a collapsing curtain.