The plan for the hunt has been finalised.

Rann, Arshak, Arshiya, Johnny, Einar, and Rob of the expedition team, along with Han and myself, will set out to hunt down, slay, and bring back the bloodbeast, Haven’s first hunt in nearly six moons.

The eight of us will head out at sunrise tomorrow. We’ll have three day’s provisions, nets, weapons, and tarps loaded onto a large sled. The bloodbeast’s lair is half a day’s trek from Haven, but it’ll take a full day to set up a safe distance from it and scope out the area. Arshak and Arshiya will range ahead to make sure the bloodbeast is still in its lair, while the rest of us bring up the supplies on the sled.

If the bloodbeast is still there, we’ll lay snares outside its den, and Ran will coax it out and hopefully, it’ll get caught up. Rann will keep its attention while Johnny and Rob throw nets and bolas and jab at its hind legs, and the twins, Han, and Einar hit its face and neck with arrows. Rann will try and drive his spear into the bloodbeast's mouth to pin it, while I…

Emerge from hiding on top of its cave, jump onto its back and drive my spear through its neck, killing it.

Now, yes, I have done this before. I didn’t even jump from a high place, I just leapt across the street.

It’s just… my first time was with a gangly-looking bird with its own guts hanging out. It wasn’t exactly… tenacious.

This time, my target’s a bear. A giant bear. A bear that’s apparently as big as a house. Normally such a term is an over-exaggeration, but I won’t take my chances down here.

But!

If we're successful, we’d have enough fur to make cloaks for the entire village, and enough meat to last a whole year. If. That’s a pretty huge if, but… I’ve been promised the finest cut of meat from the bloodbeast if I kill it. I don’t know how bloodbeast or even bear tastes, but what I do know is that, gods, I miss meat. I was never a picky eater and I’m fine with the mostly vegetable and grain-based dishes here, even if they are a bit rough, but…

I really miss meat. Like, a lot. Like, enough that I’m willing to go on this hunt and probably risk my life for it.

The hunt will start tomorrow, though. Today is for training.

Which is why I’m standing on the roof of the armoury, sharpened stick in hand, being egged on by half a dozen people (that is, Rann, Johnny, Einar, the Chief, and Arshak and Arshiya) to jump off and drive my sharpened stick through a sack full of sand on the ground.

Behind the armoury is a roughly triangle-shaped cleared area used for training, with cliffs on one side and buildings on all others. I’d walked past it a few times taking the shortcut from Main Street to Crystal Road, seeing the guards or expedition team members training and sparring. Of course, whenever I had any training, it was always tucked behind the Chief’s residence getting a one-on-one beating by Rann or Vann.

Still, they are private lessons given to me by Haven’s best fighters, even if it was mostly me getting kicked around, bruised, and eating dirt. Sure, it’s improved my swordfighting and my coordination with my wings, but I feel that’s less my appreciation of the art of the sword, and more my desire to not get bruises all over my arms and having to clean my only shirt again.

But my pain is not what people care about. All they know is that I get private lessons from the best fighters in town, and that’s the cause of some jealousy.

Gh… up here, I feel more of the wind as it brushes over my wings. It’s only a few metres up, but I could never even dive into a pool from the ground level, and they want me to jump off a roof…?

“C’mon, Feathers! You killed a carrion hawk, what’s one lousy sack of sand to ya?” Johnny calls.

“Jump, girl. The mud’s soft.” Einar states, staring straight into my eyes like he always does.

“Are you certain this is the best way to go about this, Rann…?” The Chief sighs.

“She had jumped on that carrion hawk without a problem. Don’t see how this is any different.” Rann shrugs.

“This is very different! That was jumping on something! This is jumping off something!”

“Just make sure you land on your feet and you’ll be fine.” Rann calls back.

Easy for him to say when he’s not the one being told to jump off a building!

My wings remain partly outstretched and resting around my waist, constantly twitching and probably feeling some of the nervous energy I’m giving off… or maybe, they’re entirely independently nervous. I assume you feel pain too, wings, and I don’t want to crash into the ground…

“How much longer are you going to take? Do we even need her, Rann? She’s shaking like a leaf!” Arshak groans, as Arshiya stands quietly beside him, looking up at me.

“We do, Arshak. One spear through a bloodbeast’s head likely won’t be enough to kill it outright.” Rann responds.

I’m really the lynchpin, aren’t I? Well, if I do make this jump, then that means we can hunt, and if we do hunt, then maybe, I’ll finally get to savour some meat…

Alright. Wings, let’s do this.

Responding to my thoughts, they stretch out to their full length and lift up, ready to launch us skyward. Now, we don’t need to jump all that high, what’s more important is that we control our descent-

Before I can finish my thought, my wings decide it’s go time and now I’m hanging in the air with everyone gawking up at me. I’m really high up. The highest I’ve been. I can see well over the roofs of some of the buildings around us; a few people walking along the main street notice me, awkwardly hanging in the air above the buildings. I’d give them a wave if I wasn’t holding a spear.

But that brief moment of flight vanishes, and now I’m hurtling towards the ground, holding my spear the wrong way around, aiming nowhere near my target.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit SHIT!

As I rapidly descend, my wings flap helplessly trying and failing to slow us down, but I at least get my balance back just enough to ensure that I don’t faceplant on the ground—

And instead, very nearly crash-land, flat on my shins in the mud.

The sympathetic groans of pain upon witnessing my unglamorous fall capture but a fraction of just how much that hurt. My hands slip partway down the wooden spear, very nearly digging splinters into my flesh. The impact on my knees makes my whole body buck forwards, as my wings shudder stiffly, as if feeling an echo of the pain shoot through my body.

At least, I didn’t land on my face. Using the spear, I manage to stand back up, shaky as I am, my shins throbbing in pain as I hobble back towards the ladder leading to the armoury’s roof.

“Oh, she’s going back up.” The Chief says, mildly impressed.

“She didn’t land on her face. That’s something.” Rann shrugs.

I get back up on the edge of the roof, looking down over the yard and clutching the spear close, my wings drawn close to my sides.

“Make sure you land away from us! I don’t wanna be in the splash zone, ya hear?” Johnny says, taking a step back to ensure he won’t get dirty.

Suppressing the urge to jump straight at Johnny this time, I sigh, taking a step towards the edge.

Now. Wings.

We go when I say we go, okay? We both have to be ready for this. When I jump, you flap. Just like with the carrion hawk. Okay?

Good.

One, two, and…

I jump off the ledge, soaring into the air as my wings launch me upwards. Eyes on target, and dive straight down- up? Why am I going up and down?

Rather than diving, my wings keep flapping, trying to keep me in the air, bouncing up and down as my arms and legs helplessly wiggle about, completely unable to keep my balance in mid-air.

“DOWN! I said! Not up and down! Down! We go up and then we go down—ah.”

Heeding my complaints, my wings cease flapping and fold upwards, sending me hurtling straight down, barely managing to land on my hands and knees with a splash into the mud, getting it all over my front.

“Marina!! In Turona’s name, Rann, this is not going to work!” The Chief yells, turning to glare at Rann rather than helping me back up.

“A two-pronged attack is the only way we’re going to kill it, Chief. We take it down, or we try to lure it away from Haven. There’s no way to go about this that won’t risk lives.” Rann argues.

“Well. I’ll be. You actually flew, Feathers.” Johnny comments.

“I mean… I guess she flew. Looked more like she was struggling mid-air.” Arshak says, disbelief and confusion in his voice.

Ugh. Come on. We’ve done this before, wings, and we’re going to do it again. Properly. You’re not the one getting covered in muck here.

I get back on my feet, wiping the mud off my sleeves and picking the spear back up, before jumping up to the roof to give this a third shot.

When I turn to face the yard again, everyone’s now looking up at me with surprise; even the Chief and Rann went quiet mid-argument.

“What?”

“You jumped onto the roof, Marina.” Rann says, sounding a little bewildered.

I did? I… Oh. I didn’t use the ladder. I just… jumped up.

Thanks, wings. See! That! We just need to do that, but rather than going from a low place to a high place, we go from a high place to a low place!

I mean, I can say that, but going down is different from going up. Plus, I need to go down stable enough that I can strike as I land. If I can just… visualise what I need to do.

“‘Ey. Feathers.” Johnny says.

“I have a name, you know.”

“Yeah, your name’s Feathers. Ever seen a hawk in action?” He responds, shrugging off my complaint.

“What, like the carrion hawk?”

“No, an actual hawk, not those overgrown vultures. Buddy of mine back up top was a falconer, worked with all sortsa birds for the local mayor. Birds of prey always dive feet-first onto whatever they’re aiming at. You’re too focused on hitting the sack and not focused enough on landing on ya feet.” He explains.

“Hmm… I could see the correlation.” The Chief ponders, her hand on her chin.

Dive feet first? But I strike with my spear, so if I focus on landing with my feet apart, spread my wings out to control my descent, while aiming the spear downwards… like it’s a talon… Ooooh.

“Yeah, something like that. Give that a shot.” Johnny gives a confident thumbs up as I work out my posture.

Are you getting this, wings? I’m picturing it in my mind as best I can if you, uh… can see what I’m picturing in my mind.

My wings spread out to their full length, splaying out to make as large a surface area as they can - yes, like that! The larger the surface area, the more controlled and slowly we go down, if you, uh… understand the concept of surface area. You get the idea, anyway. If you do that, then I can focus on landing on my feet, and landing my strike.

Right. Round three. Third time’s the charm.

With a leap and a flap, I’m up in the air. Upon reaching the zenith, my wings spread out, tilted back slightly to steady my descent. Looking down, I’m probably… no, I’m five and a half metres up. I know where I want my feet to land, and where my spear will strike. Take a deep breath…

Within a second, I’m on the ground, landing hard on my feet, my spear embedded in the sandbag.

“Ayy! Just like that, Feathers!” Johnny yells, coming up to pat me on my shoulder.

“Well, maybe, this might just work. However, I won’t fully clear this unless Marina can do that another two times or so. I won’t sign off on a fluke. So, Marina-... err… Marina?” The Chief starts, before noticing the state I’m in.

I collapse to my knees, my whole body shaking as I cling to the spear as the only thing keeping me upright.

“I think she landed too hard on her feet, Chief.” Rann sighs, walking over to stand beside me. “Let’s get her off her knees and onto the bench, Johnny.”

Johnny and Rann lean down either side of me, hooking an arm over their shoulders and getting me back on my feet, and, in turn, my wings drape themselves over their shoulders as if they need to be carried too. My legs feel like jelly beneath me, so they more or less carry me to the bench against the armoury’s back wall.

“Gods, Feathers, you’re heavier than you look…” Johnny grunts, setting me down on the bench with my wings awkwardly resting against the wall. “Chief! Any magic you can whizz up to fix her legs?”

Stolen story; please report.

“What she needs is a couple hours off her feet. She hasn’t broken anything.” The Chief sighs, walking past us and calling out behind her. “I still want to see her do that again before you leave tomorrow.”

“... So no magic?” Johnny calls.

“I’m not a healer! She’ll be fine, anyway!” The Chief yells back, before disappearing onto the main street.

“Tomorrow, huh? So does that mean we are going on this hunt?” Johnny turns to Rann.

“It would seem so. Means we need to get everything ready, John.” Rann answers. “Einar, go and fetch Han to help pack. Twins, you two keep an eye on Marina for us.”

“What!? Why do-“ Arshak starts to complain, before a look from Rann shuts him up.

Okay. I guess that’s what’s happening. I’ll just stay here until I can move my legs again…

Arshiya sits down on the bench beside me, looking at me, or… rather, my wings, with her usual mysterious, unreadable gaze.

“Arshak.” Arshiya says, after staring at me for a while.

“What?” Arshak grumbles, mumbling to himself annoyedly as he paces around the mud.

“What kind of wings do you think Marina has?” She asks.

“What kind of… what?” Arshak stops pacing around, turning to look at me. “I don’t know, just, they’re wings. Human wings? Humans don’t normally have wings.”

“I think they’re eagle wings. Like the silver eagles that nest by the coast.” Arshiya goes to touch them, before stopping. “Can I touch them?”

“Sure… knock yourself out.”

She reaches out, tracing her finger along one of the outer feathers, from root to tip. It tickles a little.

“Eagles don’t have red feathers, Arshiya. Besides, look at how much the pinions stick out. They’re more like vulture wings.” Arshak steps closer, leaning down to get a better look at my wings.

“Vulture feathers are rough. Marina’s feathers are smooth.” Arshiya says back, running her fingers along the lower edge of my wings. My wings shiver slightly, stretching out a little before settling back down.

“All birds have rough feathers and smooth feathers, Arshiya, it’s the shape that makes the difference. They’re not curved like a falcon or kite, so they could be…” Arshak pauses for a moment, pondering.

I haven’t really thought of what kind of bird my wings look like they’re from. I mean, there were no sentient winged races in the Overlands, so I never thought of what wings would look like on a person. Sure, there’s images of winged angels, but those are like… fluffy. Soft. Predominantly white. Not these rough, sharp, and dark red sheets of feathers I have stuck to my back- Ow! Don’t jab me in the shoulder for stating the truth!

“Did you just jab yourself with your wing?” Arshak asks, furrowing his brow.

“I didn’t jab myself. These things have… a mind of their own, and I mean that literally. They only do what I ask half the time that I ask them, and they keep incessantly trying to touch everything when they’re not in my cloak.”

As if to prove my point, my left wing lifts up, trying to reach out to touch Arshak’s face with its outermost feather.

“That… explains why it’s trying to poke my face?” He says, taking a step back.

“Yes.” I answer, pushing my left wing down with my hand, making the right repeatedly scuffle against my shoulder in protest.

“That sure seems like a hassle.” He says, a mote of sympathy in his voice.

“It is.”

Arshiya, as if struck by a burst of inspiration, suddenly jumps to her feet, wheeling about to stand in front of me.

“Marina! Could you stretch your wings out, and up?” Arshiya asks excitedly, motioning her arms outwards and upwards.

Managing to sit up properly, my wings stretch outwards, then upwards, fully spreading out their pinion feathers, partially uncovering the otherwise hidden blade-feathers. Even sitting down, my wings stretched up like this nearly reaches the roof.

Arshiya’s beaming ear to ear; the most expressive I’ve ever seen her before. Arshak just crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow.

“They’re just like gryphon wings. As tall and proud as they are, at least.” He says.

“Are you saying you’ve actually seen a gryphon before? In person? Not just in a book or on a flag?”

Arshak sighs, but smiles, as Arshiya nods excitedly.

“We’re from Samarkal, although you probably know it as the Spice Isles. All sorts of things passed through the Gates of Gold as trade between east and west, north and south. One day, a tamed gryphon was brought onto the island, and although we were young, we got a close look at it, and Arshiya even pet it. Ever since then, she’s been obsessed with anything and everything that has wings.” He explains, as Arshiya happily hums to herself.

“You saw a gryphon? For real?!”

“Yes! It was so big and it was soft and powerful but so gentle and calm…” Arshiya says, her monotone voice turning excited and giggly.

“My father had a quill made from a brown gryphon’s feather. He used it nearly every day, but it never wore down or lost its lustre. I always wanted to see a real one up close…”

“The one I saw had a coat of bright white with black stripes, and feathers that shone like gold in the sunlight. It had an aura of pride and nobility that I could never forget!” She smiles, recalling the mighty beast she saw as clearly as if it were still standing before her.

“Did it strut around like it owned the place, preening from the attention it knew it so rightfully deserved?” I get up onto my feet, strutting around with my wings held high and proud in a perfect imitation of how gryphons walk.

“It strode about like every cobblestone was laid just for it to walk upon.” She giggled.

“Well. Marina seems to have recovered quickly.” The Chief comments, standing beside Arshak.

“Yes. They started talking about birds. And gryphons.” Arshak groans.

“I noticed the resemblance between the wings of a gryphon and the wings upon Marina’s back when I first saw them, yes. I suppose it makes sense; since both creatures are normally incapable of flight, and don’t function like the common bird does.” The Chief says.

“Pff… did you just call Marina a ‘creature’?” Arshak stifles his laugh as best he can.

“You’re hearing things. Marina, if you’re back on your feet already then I expect you to be up on that roof. I want to be certain that the last attempt wasn’t a fluke.” The Chief brushes off Arshak’s question, walking back out into the courtyard and resuming her previous position.

“A-Ah, Chief, right, uhm… right.”

I don’t know how long she was standing there but I hope she didn’t see me strutting around like an idiot.

But, gushing over how cool gryphons are with Arshiya replenished my energy a bit. I always wanted to see one in person, and with how the twins described it, the illustrations in my books clearly didn’t do the magnificent beast enough justice. I grab the sharpened stick still embedded in the sack, heading back towards the armoury, and effortlessly jumping up onto the roof with a powerful flap of my wings—

—But not quite making it, and having to awkwardly grab the edge and climb up onto the roof as my wings flap unhelpfully.

The Chief looks up at me, unimpressed and slightly worried, but I just need to stick the landing. Being able to jump up to the roof is a bonus.

With a clear picture in mind, the second jump goes smoothly.

Up into the air, then striking down perfectly on target, plunging my spear straight down through the hole I made earlier, punching through the sack and burying the tip in the mud beneath it. I bend my legs to absorb the shock of hitting the ground, landing squarely on my feet.

“Well, you did what I told you to do. I suppose that’s that…” The Chief sighs.

“You… don’t sound happy about this, Chief.”

“Of course I’m not. We lost Nathaniel just last week, and Rann wants to go charging off to fight the biggest and most dangerous beast in the entire Abyss. Yes, it’s too close to Haven for comfort. Yes, we haven’t had meat for months. If all goes well, we’ll have enough meat to feed everyone steak dinners for a month and enough fur to make cloaks for everyone. If it doesn’t…” She stops, taking a moment to recollect herself. “We can’t afford to lose yet more lives.”

“I trust Marina.” Arshiya says, standing beside me as I pull the spear from the sack.

“It’s not about trust, Arshiya. It’s risk. If it gets too risky…” The Chief looks down, holding her arm, trying to quell the worries in her.

“If it gets too risky, we’ll turn around and head back. If the bloodbeast’s moved on, that’s the best possible scenario. It’s a gamble, but I won’t needlessly risk lives, Chief.” Rann says, walking back into the training yard.

Rann carries two spears with him over his shoulder; each longer than he is tall, with a large, bay leaf-shaped spear head and a small metal crosspiece just below it; presumably, the bear spears. Beside Rann walks a woman I haven’t seen before.

What immediately hits me is her straw-blonde hair, tied back into a long braid that goes down to the small of her back, and her pale silver eyes framed by her prominent black eyelashes. Were it not for her slightly pointed ears and her white pupils, you wouldn’t think she’s from the Abyss. She wears a dark brown leather apron over long pants and a sleeveless shirt, and her front’s covered in soot. Maybe it’s her sleeveless shirt, but her arms look more toned and muscular than any other woman in town. Despite her stark appearance from the rest of Haven, her blank, unassuming expression is yet another oddity about her.

“You know that’s far easier said than done, Rann. Anything can happen here. All it takes is one wrong move, and none of you may come back.” The Chief lifts her gaze to look up at Rann, her brow furrowed.

“So long as no one makes any mistakes, they’ll be fine. There isn’t anything wrong with my equipment.” The woman says, crossing her arms. Her voice has a slight accent, sounding like those that hailed from the far northern reaches of the Overlands; even further north than the Chief’s home of Drachenkoenig, certainly.

The Chief lets out a huff of annoyance, turning to glare at the other woman.

“I wasn’t questioning the quality of the equipment, Ingrid. Nor do I recall you taking ownership of them.” The Chief’s tone is rather openly hostile, not that ‘Ingrid’ seems to mind or care.

“Every piece of metal in this village, from the nails in the buildings to the pans in the kitchen has been manufactured or maintained by me. I never gave them to anyone. I just let them borrow them.” Ingrid responds bluntly. The Chief goes to angrily respond back, before Rann interjects.

“Ingrid was interested in seeing Marina. They haven’t met yet, and…” Rann says, before—

“I’m here to make sure she knows the right end of a spear and can be trusted with one.” Ingrid cuts him off. Rann just sighs.

“Speaking of. You.” Ingrid turns to stare directly at me, walking up to me.

“Me-”

I barely get a word out before Ingrid abruptly grabs the upper edge of my wing, feeling along it as the wing splays its feathers out and uncovers its blade-feathers in a confused manner.

Ingrid taps one of these blade-feathers with her fingers, each tap sounding out a soft metallic ting.

“Hmm. Light. Flexible. Sharp. Would likely shatter if it struck something hard, though. Too thin to parry heavy blows. I’d forge something thrice as strong with this much metal. Take these off, and I can- ah.”

Ingrid goes to pull the blade-feathers out, only to find them quite firmly - and painfully attached to the roots of my wing. She lets go, letting me turn around to face her, my wings still recovering from the apparent shock of being grabbed so nonchalantly.

“Th-that… I can’t… They don’t come off, you know!...”

“Huh. So you forged them to your wings? That takes some strength of will.” She responds thoughtfully.

“I didn’t… I woke up here with these wings. They came with the sword-feather-things.”

Ingrid looks down at my wing, then back up at me.

“Your wings came with swords?” She says, looking both shocked and amazed.

“People don’t usually come with wings in the first place…”

“If you’re quite done, Ingrid…” The Chief sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

“Right. Rann, the spear.” Ingrid holds her hand up.

Rann sighs softly, handing Ingrid one of the two oversized spears, which she then hands towards me.

I take it from her hand-

“Wwhaat the hell this thing is ten times heavier than the stick I was using!..”

I have to grab it with both hands to be able to hold it up properly. The shaft of the spear is made of what I assume to be some kind of local wood, as it’s near-black and hard (and almost as heavy) as stone to the touch.

“It’s made of strong wood and stronger steel, made for hunting beasts of great size. It needs that strength if you’re going on a suicide mission.” Ingrid states.

“Sorry, hunting a bloodbeast.” She clarifies after Rann lets out an audible sigh.

“Even you think it’s a suicide mission?”

“The only successful bloodbeast hunt I’ve seen was carried out with far better equipment than what this sorry little hovel has on hand, despite my best efforts.” Ingrid crosses her arms, further emphasising her disinterest in her surroundings.

“Sorry little… if this village that has stood for nearly a hundred years as the only safe refuge in all of the Abyss isn’t to your liking, then I can kick you back out into the mud we found you in!” The Chief raises her voice as her anger is provoked, glaring across at Ingrid, who just shrugs indifferently in response.

“Both of you… gods, this is why we keep you two on opposite ends of town.” Rann sighs tiredly, as if he’s dealt with this exact scenario a hundred times before.

“If you’re quite done here, you can go back to your smithy before you start trying to pull Marina’s wings off. She’s proven to Rann and I that she’s perfectly capable of using a spear properly.” The Chief huffs, turning her nose up a little.

“She was practising with a stick. I want to see it with the real spear. If she can hold it that long.” Ingrid shoots back, her flat voice starting to waver as her tolerance towards the Chief starts to dry up.

“Should I get back up on the roof..?”

“Yes.” Ingrid answers.

“No!!” shouts the Chief, bewildered that I’d even considered Ingrid’s idea.

“A-ah… uh…” Who do I go with…

“I’m going to have to veto that. She’s been striking a sack, not a blood beast. If she dived onto the sack with the spear, she’d likely break it, and we don’t have an easy way of replacing it.” Rann speaks up, stepping between Ingrid and the Chief before they start arguing again.

“Break? I didn’t spend all day using precious spare metal to reinforce those spears just for them to snap in the hands of-” Ingrid starts, before-

“Ingrid.” Rann cuts her off, and she stops talking, looking a little flustered. “Go grab the spear from that sack, would you.”

Ingrid nods, walking over to the sack, still impaled with my comparatively flimsy wooden spear. She goes to pull it out with one hand…

And finds she can’t. So, she uses both hands.

And still can’t. Slightly annoyed, she puts one foot on the sack for leverage, pulling on the spear with all her strength - only for it to snap, nearly making her fall over backwards.

“See my point?” Rann asks. Ingrid just sighs, throwing the broken stick to the ground.

“I see. If no one else needs me, I’ll go back to my smithy.” Ingrid turns to leave the courtyard the same way she came.

The Chief quietly watches Ingrid leave, arms crossed, before turning to look at Rann.

“I have my own matters to attend to as well. I trust I can leave the rest of preparations to you, Rann.” She says. Rann nods, and she turns to take her leave.

Now it’s just me, Rann, and the twins in the courtyard. An awkward silence hangs.

“Gotten used to the spear’s weight, Marina?” Rann asks, breaking the silence.

“I… yeah. It feels more manageable now.”

I’d almost forgotten how heavy it was, but now that I’m more used to it it feels more manageable. Thankfully, it’s very well weighted; enough that I can balance it in one hand.

“Is anyone going to mention what just happened..? Y’know… all that?” Arshak says, gesturing broadly to what just happened.

“That was my mistake. Those two are like oil and water. They’ve never gotten along, and part of me fears they never will.” Rann sighs, leaning against his spear.

“So… Ingrid is Haven’s blacksmith?”

“Yes, and a damn good one. She’s been here for five years now, and rightfully takes pride in her work. It’s just she’s a bit…” Rann trails off.

“Abrasive.” Arshak chimes in.

“Something like that. And the Chief’s…” he trails off again.

“Temperamental.” Arshak chimes in again.

“Yeah. You see the problem here.” Rann nods.

Oil and water definitely describes how those two don’t mix, for sure. I look up, and the constant grey-red glow of the sky has darkened considerably since I last thought of the time.

“So uh… what now? I didn’t realise how late in the evening it was.”

“You.” Rann looks me up and down. “Need a bath. And your clothes washed.”

Looking down at myself, my shins are caked in mud, and my shirt has dark brown stains all over it. Good point.

“I’ll take your spear and load it with the sled. Go wash yourself up.” I hand him my spear, lifting it up to carry it over his shoulder.

“Come on, you two. Few more things on the sled, then we can have dinner.” Rann turns towards the main road, with Arshak and Arshiya following along behind him, leaving me alone in the courtyard.

Man.

I really wish I had more than one shirt.