Mishka looked at the forge. It was gettng dark already, and the glow of the furnace fires reflected over the chiseled stones on the floor, worn from constant use -ingots clattering on it, people rushing to and from the shed, even rivnak hooves sometimes-, and tinted the grass in front of it slightly orange. A lone smith struck a blade over and over, with a repetitive, droning clinking that could put a baby to sleep, but turned the seasoned crafters crazy: Harnquist needed to muffle that ringing anvil soon enough.
"I'm going to miss this." With those words in her mind, and after sending a little groffel in pursue of a certain someone, she set off to the Winch. With light baggage, she walked over to the big gates, slipping through a crack between them after nodding at Percival. A couple of coins paid to Axomir for the service, and down she went. She thought she recognized a certain Akkaio on the plaform, but paid her no heed, and sat down against a support beam to take a short nap.
* * *
Sereenya read the note with a slight frown. Well, that was one problem less, and it meant she was free to do as she pleased. Slinging her quiver over her shoulder, and her bowstring across her chest, she called her rivnak, petting his neck and securing her belongings on top of him - a small tent, some tinder for campfires, a few bundles of arrows, and an ulbernaut fur. She hopped on him, looking around at the Hydlaan architecture as the beast walked slowly through the city -clip clop against the polished stone-, headed for the Oldtown gates, stopping at Willam first to leave a message for Celrau "I'll be back soon, S", along with a dried Blue Shan flower. Trotting through the forest, leaping over arangmas - and spitting out some of their dangling webs afterwards, soon she was out in the road, putting the rivnak to full gallop as she smiled. Next stop: Delving and then the Cups of Laanx.
* * *
In the dead of the night, the door of the hospital in Amdeneir opened slowly. A well dressed Kore looked around, fixing his coat and rubbing his arms a little in the chilly breeze that swept through the city. He walked briskly across the cobble-paved streets, and came up to the DeFaye manor. Pulling a little golden key from his pocket he opened the door and walked inside, sighing out of relief. A couple of minutes later, with a cup of that wine he liked to brew -dark, thick, nutty- Jocas pondered about where did he go wrong, and what could he do to fix it. He moved over to his desk, and started scribbling, sending out Amdeneir Postal Service groffels: to Axomir, to Jirosh, to Taemian, to Datal, and a bunch of scrolls tied at the back of a yulbar to deliver to Tarela, for the other levels. Then he sent his own groffel to the Octarch Salikarios, this letter considerably shorter than the previous. Afterwards, he took a canvas rucksack, and started filling it with goods and clothing. Donning his old chainmail armor and tabard, he slid his longword into its scabbard, and left for the pterosaur.
* * *
Jecewie laughed merrily, almost stumbling back as the winds shook the Winch platform a little, and then laughed more with the other Dermorian girl she had met. From her handbag poked out a few diagrams: an Ylian heart, cross-shaded beautifully, a study on a Kran's digestive tract, a Klyros' anatomy... She seemed to be carrying a light luggage, in contrast to the other merchants around, some tending to goujahs carrying tons of goods, some sitting on the ground and betting their trias on card games. And there was that one strange sleeping Clamod that looked familiar, but then her friend clicked her fingers in front of Jecewie's face, and after a couple of words the two were giggling again, enjoying life and carelessly laughing along it. Because, when you're an Enkidukai, you need to make the best out of an otherwise short life.
[Take these as my goodbye for now! See you in three months!]
