The air between Paola and Yasmin crackled with tension, the kind that sent a primal shiver down Paola’s spine. Every nerve in her body was on high alert, her instincts screaming at her that something was about to happen—something bad. She stood there, frozen but alert, watching the woman in front of her with a mix of dread and fascination. Yasmin radiated power, and it wasn’t just her appearance or the sparks of magic dancing between her fingers—it was the way the air around her seemed to ripple, bending ever so slightly, like reality itself couldn’t quite contain her energy.
Paola’s heart pounded in her chest, and she could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on her, making it harder to breathe. She’d been in life-or-death situations before, had fought off threats both human and monstrous, but this—this was different. There was no confusion about what Yasmin could do. The deadly aura that surrounded her was as clear as the crackling energy that snapped and popped in the space between them.
And that power... that raw, untamed power that Yasmin wielded so effortlessly... it burned Paola. Not literally, but the sight of it, the feeling of it, was like a searing reminder of everything she wasn’t. She was supposed to be a T’shal’ara, a race renowned for their strong magical affinity. She was supposed to be able to summon magic with a flick of her fingers, bend the elements to her will. Instead, here she was, barely able to conjure a flame without exhausting herself. It gnawed at her, an ugly, bitter feeling that crawled under her skin and festered, simmering into anger.
Her swearing, something that had tapered off since she’d arrived in Udanara, returned with a vengeance in her mind. Why the fuck can’t I do what she does? She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as the wave of frustration rolled through her. The anger was a fire in her chest, flickering hotter and hotter the more she stared at Yasmin and her effortless power.
She felt weak. She hated feeling weak. It was a sudden return of emotions she felt she had forgotten.
Ayla’s presence next to her was steady, a comforting pillar of strength, but even Ayla had shifted her posture, taking a step forward, her hand resting firmly on the hilt of her broadsword. It was a stance Paola hadn’t seen before—one that wasn’t just prepared for combat, but fully expecting it. Ayla was usually calm, confident in her ability to handle any threat. But now... now there was a wary tension in her movements, a small but telling sign that even she recognized the magnitude of what they were up against.
Paola glanced sideways at Ayla, catching the slight shift in her gaze—the same one she’d seen before Ayla leapt into battle with unmatched ferocity. She wasn’t afraid, not in the traditional sense, but there was an understanding in her eyes: they were staring down something powerful. Too powerful.
Paola swallowed hard, her throat dry, and tried to calm the tremor in her fingers. She could feel her connection with Oso, her familiar, shifting restlessly at her side. The sandy-colored cub had been calm only moments ago, but now, sensing the tension in Paola and the looming threat of Yasmin, his fur stood on end, his body stiffening as a low growl rumbled in his throat.
Yasmin’s amber eyes locked onto Paola’s, and for a moment, it felt as if the world had narrowed to just the two of them. Her gaze was sharp, predatory, as if she were sizing Paola up, deciding whether to play with her prey or pounce. The sparks of electricity flickering around her fingers intensified, casting small shadows across her face as her expression remained cool, controlled.
There was something mesmerizing about her—something about the way she held herself, the way her fiery red hair, caught in the fading light of the setting sun, shimmered with golden undertones. The air around her shimmered too, distorted by the heat of her magic, giving her an almost ethereal quality. But it wasn’t a beautiful ethereal. It was dangerous. Deadly.
Paola's anger flared again, hot and insistent, as she cursed under her breath. She had fought tooth and nail to survive in Udanara, scraped by with whatever scraps of magic she could muster, and now she was staring at a magist who practically oozed power. It was infuriating.
And then there was Oso. Paola hadn’t even realized how protective he had become of her until now. His growl deepened, his fur bristling as he stepped in front of her, his body growing tense. The black and purple streaks along his spine flared with a strange, otherworldly energy that Paola hadn’t seen before. He wasn’t just her cub anymore. He was growing, evolving into something more formidable, something more dangerous. But Yasmin’s presence seemed to push Oso over the edge.
As Paola watched, the tension in the air between Yasmin and Ayla reached a breaking point. Yasmin took a single step forward, and Paola could feel the magical pressure building in the air like a gathering storm. Ayla's fingers tightened around her sword, and for a split second, Paola thought everything was about to explode into violence.
But then... Oso moved.
With a sharp, warning growl, Oso stepped directly in front of Paola, his body positioned protectively between her and Yasmin. His fur stood on end, his growl low and menacing, and his usually soft brown eyes blazed with a fierce, determined light. His transformation from playful cub to protector was startling, and for a moment, Paola could only stare, her breath caught in her throat.
Yasmin’s gaze flickered toward Oso, and something in her eyes changed.
The deadly intensity, the sharp, predatory focus—gone. In an instant, Yasmin’s entire demeanor shifted, as if someone had flipped a switch. Her expression softened, and her entire aura, the dangerous magical energy that had been radiating off her, dissipated. The tension in the air evaporated, leaving a strange, almost surreal calm in its place.
Yasmin let out a high-pitched squeal of delight, her jaw hanging ajar as she stared at Oso, her amber eyes wide with excitement. She leaned forward, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet as she took in the sight of the growling cub.
“Oh my gods!” she squealed, her voice completely different from the deadly, cold tone she had used just moments before. “He’s adorable!”
Paola blinked, utterly baffled by the sudden change. Yasmin’s fierce, crackling aura of power had completely vanished, replaced by what could only be described as pure, unfiltered joy. Her lips were curled into a wide, almost childlike smile, her fingertips pressed gently against her lips as she stared at Oso, who was still growling in warning.
Oso, for his part, didn’t seem to know how to react. His growl continued, but it was more confused now, as if he didn’t quite understand why the very dangerous woman in front of him was suddenly cooing at him like he was some kind of pet.
Yasmin, completely ignoring Ayla’s tense stance and the fact that she had nearly drawn her sword, rushed forward, her eyes locked on Oso. She crouched down just a few feet away from the cub, her hands pressed against her cheeks as she continued to gush over him.
“Oh, look at him!” she exclaimed, her voice high-pitched with excitement. “Look at those little paws! And his fur—it’s so fluffy!” She reached out a hand, clearly intending to pet him, her fingers twitching with anticipation.
Ayla, still tense and ready for action, took a step forward, her voice sharp and commanding. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Yasmin froze, her hand inches away from Oso, and glanced up at Ayla with a sheepish grin. “Oh, sorry! I just—he’s so cute, I couldn’t help myself!” She straightened up, stepping back with an exaggerated pout. “I’m not going to hurt him, I promise!”
Ayla didn’t lower her guard, her eyes narrowing as she pointed to the emblem on Yasmin’s armor—a polished obsidian stone engraved with two hammers crossed over a flame. The symbol of the Arcane Forge. One of the largest and most powerful guilds in the region.
“You’re with the Arcane Forge,” Ayla said, her voice steady but filled with caution. “What’s your real purpose here?”
Yasmin glanced down at her emblem, then back up at Ayla with a casual shrug. “Oh, this?” She waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah, I’m with the Forge, but don’t worry, I’m not here on official business or anything.”
Paola, still standing behind Oso, couldn’t help but feel her frustration rising again. This woman had gone from terrifyingly powerful to... gushing over her bear cub in the span of a few seconds. It didn’t make sense. Nothing about this made sense.
“What do you want from us?” Paola asked, her voice tight with frustration. “One minute, you’re ready to burn us alive, and the next, you’re acting like Oso’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.”
Yasmin blinked, looking genuinely surprised by Paola’s outburst. She tilted her head, her fiery red hair cascading down her shoulders as she gave Paola a curious look. “Oh, I wasn’t going to burn you alive,” she said with a light laugh. “I was just... curious. You know, wanted to see what you were made of.”
Paola glared at her. “Curious? You were practically daring us to fight you!”
Yasmin raised her hands in a gesture of innocence. “Hey, no harm in a little tension to test the waters, right? Besides,” her gaze shifted back to Oso, her expression softening again, “if I had known you had such an adorable little protector, I wouldn’t have bothered with the whole intimidation thing.”
Ayla, still not convinced, kept her hand on her sword. “You need to explain why you’re here. Now.”
Yasmin sighed, rolling her eyes. “Fine, fine. I’m tracking something—well, someone, actually. A rogue magist. I heard there was a bit of a... situation not too far from here involving some magists, and I thought I’d check it out.” She shrugged, glancing at Paola. “Figured you might have crossed paths with them.”
Paola felt a chill run down her spine. The rogue magists... the fight... Yasmin had known all along. “You think we were involved?”
Yasmin’s smile returned, though it was less playful this time. “Oh, I know you were. But don’t worry—I’m not here to cause trouble. Just... keeping an eye on things.” She winked. “And maybe making some new friends along the way.”
Paola didn’t know what to make of her. One minute, Yasmin was a dangerous, unpredictable magist radiating power and danger. The next, she was practically fawning over Oso and talking about friendship.
Ayla, still wary, finally lowered her hand from her sword but kept her eyes locked on Yasmin. “We’re not your enemies.”
Yasmin’s smile softened as she cast one more glance at Oso, her amber eyes twinkling with amusement and something else—an almost desperate longing. Her gaze lingered on the cub, a barely-contained excitement bubbling beneath the surface as she bit her lower lip, her fingers itching to reach out. “Gods, I’d kill to pet him,” she murmured under her breath, but loud enough for everyone to hear. The deadly, dangerous magist now looked more like someone restraining themselves from snatching a puppy off the street.
Paola blinked, thrown by the sudden shift. Oso, sensing the attention, growled low, his fur bristling protectively. Despite the growl, Yasmin’s face lit up, her entire demeanor now one of playful curiosity rather than menace.
Ayla still had her hand on the hilt of her sword, her eyes narrowing as she sized up Yasmin. “You mentioned knowing we were involved. How?”
Yasmin let out a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes as if this part of her job bored her to tears. “Ugh, do we really have to talk about that?” She sounded more like a teenager being asked to clean her room than a powerful magist tasked with hunting down rogue mages. “I mean, I’m a magist, okay? I go to the Arcane Forge—you've heard of it.” Her voice took on a singsong quality, and she shrugged, as if her guild’s reputation should be enough explanation. “It’s not just people tossing fireballs around like idiots. We have skills, you know?”
Paola exchanged a glance with Ayla, still trying to process how Yasmin had gone from radiating deadly intent to casually talking about guild politics and magic. The tension had dissipated, but the confusion only grew.
“The Arcane Forge,” Ayla said, her tone more measured now. She gestured to the obsidian stone embedded in her dragon guard tunic. “I’m a Sword Maiden of Lady Marcelline. My rank gives me access to the Adventurer’s Guild in Valarian.” Her posture relaxed ever so slightly, recognizing that Yasmin, though unpredictable, wasn’t just some rogue magist. There was a protocol between guilds, especially when someone of Ayla’s standing was involved.
Yasmin perked up, eyes flicking to Ayla’s emblem. “Ohhhh, a Sword Maiden. Fancy! No wonder you’re not completely terrified of me.” She chirped. “I’ve heard good things about Lady Marcelline. Bet she’s a hard-ass. Anyways, the Arcane Forge isn’t all explosions and chaos—well, mostly for me, it is. But we’re trained in more than just magic; we know how to track magical residue, elemental signatures. It’s like sniffing out breadcrumbs, except the trail is made of raw magic.”
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She gestured vaguely in the direction they’d come from. “You, Paola, and your furry friend here? You’ve been leaving behind a lovely trail of elemental energy since you dealt with those rogue magists. Kinda hard to miss. Your magic’s all over the place—chaotic, raw. It practically screamed, ‘Hey, look at me, I’m not in a guild!’” Yasmin waved her hands and face mocking, Paola assumed, someone not in a guild.
Paola tensed at Yasmin’s words. “You can track magic? Like... ours?”
Yasmin smirked, clearly enjoying Paola’s confusion. “Oh, honey, yeah. That’s what I do. I’m not just a walking disaster waiting to happen—I’m also really good at my job.” She winked, her tone teasing. “I can see traces of elemental magic, feel the energy shifts. It’s like having a sixth sense, but more... dangerous.”
Paola swallowed hard, her mind spinning. She had thought that her abilities were more subtle, something that could fly under the radar. But now she was learning that people like Yasmin could track them, read them, understand them. This world’s magic wasn’t something she could just fumble through—it had rules, and those rules were being followed by people far more powerful than her.
Ayla raised an eyebrow, clearly curious but cautious. “You’re tracking rogue magists then? Official business for the Arcane Forge?”
Yasmin groaned, tilting her head back with exaggerated frustration. “Yes, yes, I’m supposed to be tracking rogue magists. I had a mission to, you know, deal with them.” She waved her hand dismissively, as if this part of her life was an unfortunate necessity. “But it turns out you all already did that part for me. So, mission accomplished, I guess." She closed one eye and the other looked up nearly into her head as if trying to read her own mind. "Thanks for that, by the way. Saved me some time.”
Ayla frowned, glancing at Paola. “You’re saying they left behind enough magical residue for you to track them here?”
“Absolutely,” Yasmin replied, brushing a strand of fiery hair behind her ear. “That one's chaos magic? Hard to miss. And then there’s the whole dead rogue magists thing. I had to make sure it wasn’t done by another group of rogues. So, I came to check it out, make sure it wasn’t one of those... situations.” Her tone shifted, becoming slightly more serious, as if the idea of rogue magists causing even more chaos was something she took personally.
Paola’s stomach churned. So, Yasmin knew. She knew Paola had been practicing magic outside of any guild’s supervision. And she wasn’t just some random magist—she was part of the Arcane Forge, one of the most powerful magical guilds in Windmere. They weren’t just scholars—they were battle magists, trained for war, for defending cities, for destroying threats. People like Yasmin weren’t the kind to mess around with rogue magics.
And yet... Yasmin didn’t seem like she cared. She had more or less shrugged off the fact that Paola wasn’t in a guild, that she was practicing magic on her own. In fact, she seemed more interested in the chaos of it all than in enforcing any rules.
“That’s why we warn you about practicing magic without a guild,” Ayla said softly, her eyes locking onto Paola’s. “People like Yasmin... they track it. They know. And they don’t all have her... attitude.”
Yasmin grinned, clearly picking up on the subtext. “Yeah, I’m not here to play magic cop, don’t worry. Honestly, the intimidation thing was just for fun.” She glanced back at Oso, her expression softening once again. “Speaking of fun... he’s really the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Oso gave a low rumble, more curious now than protective. Paola, though still tense, couldn’t help but notice how Yasmin’s demeanor seemed to shift again, this time from professional magist to someone who just wanted to cuddle her bear cub.
Ayla finally released her grip on her sword, though she remained vigilant. “So, your mission’s done, then? You’re not here for anything else?”
Yasmin sighed dramatically, as if disappointed by the very question. “Yeah, yeah. Mission’s done. I came to check out the mess you made, and guess what? It’s all taken care of. No rogue magists running around causing trouble. Just you lovely folks and your adorable bear cub.” She shrugged, clearly uninterested in following up on anything else. “I mean, if there had been more, I might’ve had to blow something up. But nope, all good. So, I’m kinda... free to hang out.”
Paola’s heart sank. Yasmin wasn’t in a hurry to leave. If anything, she seemed perfectly content to stick around, and that realization made Paola’s stomach twist in knots. Yasmin wasn’t just staying out of curiosity—there was something more. She had sensed Paola’s magic, her chaos. And now, whether it was out of genuine interest or sheer boredom, she seemed inclined to stick close.
Yasmin stretched her arms, her fiery hair catching the last rays of the sun. “Well, since my work here’s done, I guess I’ll just... stick around for a bit. I mean, I don’t have to go back to Windmere right away. And I’ve got a soft spot for chaotic energy... and cute animals.”
Paola’s head swam with everything that had just happened. The calm that had started to settle over her life in Udanara had been shattered in mere moments. Now she was dealing with a walking catastrophe, a magist who could track her every move, and the sudden realization that she wasn’t just some random fighter anymore. Magic had its own rules, and it was becoming very clear that she was on a path she didn’t fully understand.
The anger simmered again, bubbling just beneath the surface, and for the first time in a long while, Paola felt like her old self—her Earth self. Angry, opinionated, frustrated at the world for not giving her what she wanted. Yasmin had reignited something in her, and it was taking everything in Paola not to lash out. But she bit her tongue, trying to stay composed.
“So,” Yasmin said, her voice light and casual. “What now? Got any plans? Or are we just gonna stare at each other all day?” She gave a playful grin, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she glanced back at Oso. “I’d really love to get my hands on him...”
Before Paola could respond, Ayla cleared her throat, her voice cutting through the tension. “Actually, we’re heading back to Windmere.”
Yasmin’s face lit up as if she’d been waiting for the perfect opening. “Windmere, huh? Fantastic! That’s where I’m headed too. Mind if I tag along? I could use a ride.”
The way she said it wasn’t so much a request as it was a foregone conclusion. Yasmin, with her boundless energy and casual dominance, had already decided she was coming. And without waiting for a response, she took a seat at the front of the wagon, comfortably wedging herself between Ayla and Poca.
Paola’s jaw clenched. “Great,” she muttered under her breath, her fingers tightening around Oso’s fur as she tried to calm the anger swelling in her chest. Yasmin had forced her way into their trip, her presence like a blazing fire that refused to be ignored. Paola could feel her old self stirring—the part of her that didn’t take kindly to people barging into her life, the part of her that wasn’t so passive. But what could she do?
The wagon trundled slowly along the dirt path, its wooden wheels creaking with each bump and jostle. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of deep orange and purple, the soft twilight gradually pulling a hush over the surrounding forest. In the distance, the towering walls of Windmere were still just faint silhouettes, barely visible against the horizon.
It should have been a peaceful moment.
But Yasmin was there.
Sitting with her legs crossed at the front of the wagon, Yasmin had somehow taken complete control of the situation, acting as though she’d been part of this little group for ages. She lounged back, looking entirely too comfortable in her form-fitting leather armor, her fiery hair glowing in the dimming light, and her wings occasionally fluttering lazily as if she was basking in the glory of her unexpected arrival.
“I mean, you should have seen the explosion I caused last month,” Yasmin said, mid-story, her voice as lively and energetic as if she were describing a casual picnic instead of mass destruction. “The whole street was blocked off for a week, and the cleanup crew wouldn’t stop complaining. But, hey, can’t help it if fire magic tends to get a bit out of hand sometimes, right?”
Paola, sitting in the back of the wagon with Oso curled up beside her, stared at Yasmin with a mix of disbelief and growing irritation. She’d been quiet for most of the journey so far, still reeling from the chaotic confrontation earlier. It felt like Yasmin had simply dropped out of the sky—literally—and forced herself into their lives without so much as an invitation.
Now, Yasmin was treating the trip back to Windmere as if it were some casual holiday. Paola wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
Ayla, ever composed and professional, sat on the edge of the wagon near the front, her eyes on the road but her body language stiff. Though Ayla was no stranger to danger or powerful figures, even she seemed slightly thrown off by Yasmin’s casual presence. Her hand stayed close to her sword, even though she clearly had no intention of using it—at least, not yet.
Poca, on the other hand, was in her new spot at the reins with Carter and Abraham, guiding the oxen with a patient ease that made it seem like Yasmin wasn’t even there. Whether that was a sign of Poca’s ability to tune out the chaos or simply her resilience, Paola wasn’t sure.
“So, what’s the plan when we get to Windmere?” Yasmin asked, leaning back against a barrel like she owned the place, her wings folding neatly behind her. “You know, I could show you around the Arcane Forge. It’s pretty spectacular. You’d love it.”
Paola tried not to roll her eyes. “I don’t think we’re going to have time for sightseeing.”
Yasmin waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, come on! Make time. I’ll show you the Eternal Flame. It’s this giant fire that never goes out, and let me tell you, it’s amazing for lighting a cigar if you ever need one.”
“I don’t smoke,” Paola muttered, though her tone was more resigned than confrontational.
Yasmin grinned, unfazed. “You should at least come see it! Honestly, the Arcane Forge is the best part of Windmere. It’s where all the magic happens—literally.”
Paola couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy. Yasmin was so comfortable in her own skin, so at ease with her magic and power. Paola, on the other hand, felt like she was still fumbling in the dark, trying to figure out what she was even capable of in this strange new world. And now, she had to sit here and listen to Yasmin talk about her guild and her magical exploits like it was all just a game.
“Isn’t there anything more... peaceful to see in Windmere?” Ayla asked, her voice carefully neutral, though there was a slight edge to it. She clearly wasn’t thrilled about the idea of being dragged into Yasmin’s world of explosive magic and constant danger.
Yasmin’s face lit up with mock surprise. “Peaceful? Oh, sure, if you’re into that kind of thing.” She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she gave Ayla an exaggeratedly thoughtful look. “There’s the Mariner’s Quarter—lots of nice, quiet little shops. No explosions there, I promise.”
Ayla didn’t respond immediately, her gaze still focused on the road ahead. Paola could see the tension in her posture, though. Ayla wasn’t a fan of Yasmin’s carefree attitude either.
“Speaking of the Mariner’s Quarter,” Yasmin continued, unfazed by Ayla’s silence, “there’s this fantastic tavern down there. They have the best mead you’ve ever tasted, and I’m not even exaggerating. We should totally go when we get to Windmere. You can all relax, I can... you know, not blow anything up for a while, and we can have a good time.”
Paola opened her mouth to protest, but Yasmin cut her off with a wink. “Don’t worry, Paola, I’ll make sure your bear cub gets a little something too. He’s adorable, by the way.”
Oso, sensing the attention once again, gave a small huff but didn’t move from his spot beside Paola. He was growing quickly, his once-small frame now becoming more and more difficult to fit in the back of the wagon without him knocking things over. Paola scratched behind his ears, trying to soothe the growing discomfort she felt.
She couldn’t take it anymore. “You know, you kind of just... showed up out of nowhere,” Paola said, her voice louder than intended. “Like, one minute we’re on our way, and then suddenly there’s this whole display of power and—what are you even doing here?”
Yasmin turned to Paola, blinking in exaggerated innocence. “What? You didn’t enjoy my grand entrance? I thought it was pretty dramatic.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Paola grumbled. “You just barged into our lives, and now you’re acting like you’re part of this trip.”
Yasmin’s smile faltered for a moment, but then she shrugged, her carefree demeanor returning almost immediately. “Well, you did finish my mission for me, so technically, I’m off the clock now. Figured I’d hang out with you guys for a bit. You seem... fun.” She leaned back, stretching her arms behind her head. “And besides, who doesn’t love making new friends?”
Paola resisted the urge to roll her eyes again, biting back a sharp retort. It wasn’t like she could tell Yasmin to leave. This magist clearly had more power than anyone Paola had encountered before, and picking a fight with her seemed like the worst possible idea.
Still, Yasmin’s over-familiarity was grating on her nerves.
“So,” Yasmin said after a brief pause, clearly trying to steer the conversation into lighter territory, “what’s your story, Paola? You don’t seem like a typical traveler.”
Paola stiffened. She wasn’t about to spill her entire life story to this strange, hyperactive magist. “I’m just... trying to figure things out,” she said, her tone clipped. “It’s complicated.”
Yasmin raised an eyebrow, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Complicated? Oh, I love complicated.”
Paola shook her head, refusing to engage. The last thing she needed was Yasmin poking around in her life, trying to figure out how she had ended up in Udanara, barely able to control her own magic.
Ayla, sensing Paola’s discomfort, finally spoke up again. “Yasmin, this journey’s been... difficult. We’re just trying to get to Windmere in one piece. Maybe we can save the tavern visits for later.”
Yasmin sighed dramatically, throwing her hands up in mock defeat. “Fine, fine. No tavern. But you’ll be missing out. And just for the record, if you ever need someone to liven things up... you know where to find me.”
The wagon fell into an awkward silence after that, the only sounds being the soft clatter of hooves and the distant rustle of the forest. Paola leaned back against the side of the wagon, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease slightly as the conversation lulled.
But Yasmin wasn’t done.
“So, Ayla,” Yasmin began, her voice suddenly more serious, “what’s it like being a Sword Maiden for Lady Marcelline? I hear she’s a legend in Valarian. Do you ever get tired of all the... order and duty?”
Ayla’s eyes flicked to Yasmin, her expression guarded. “It’s an honor,” she said simply, but Paola could tell by the slight strain in her voice that she wasn’t interested in having this conversation. “Lady Marcelline is a just leader. She’s fair.”
Yasmin hummed thoughtfully, her fingers tracing idle patterns in the air as small sparks of magic danced between them. “Fair, huh? That’s nice, I suppose. Must be exhausting, though. All that responsibility. Me? I’m more of a ‘blow stuff up and see what happens’ kind of girl.”
Ayla’s lips twitched slightly, though whether it was amusement or frustration, Paola couldn’t tell. “That much is obvious.”
Yasmin grinned, clearly pleased with herself. “Hey, it works for me. But I get it. Order, discipline—it has its place. I just prefer a little... unpredictability.”
Paola stifled a groan. Yasmin was relentless, pushing and poking at every little thing, as if she thrived on the awkward tension she was creating. But despite her irritation, Paola couldn’t help but feel a strange fascination with Yasmin’s energy. It was exhausting, yes, but it was also... magnetic.
Oso gave a soft yawn, his large paws stretching out beside Paola, and she absentmindedly scratched behind his ears again. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could take Yasmin’s casual dominance of the entire wagon, but for now, she kept her mouth shut.
At least until they got to Windmere.
Yasmin leaned back against the barrel, eyes half-lidded as she gazed at the fading light of the sunset. “Well, this has been fun,” she said, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Thanks for letting me hitch a ride, though I guess I could’ve flown. But, you know, who needs wings when you’ve got company like this?”
She flashed a genuine smile this time, one that caught Paola off guard. “Really though, thanks for not tossing me out. Could’ve made things awkward.”
Paola sighed, glancing at Ayla, who gave a subtle nod of understanding. This was going to be a very, very long trip.