-Aien Wisp-
The forest calmed us all. Walking through thickets and over roots, our steps being muffles by the mud at times. Mera led, her steps deliberate, though I'm not sure she actually knew the terrain well. Sera followed close behind her, softly humming a tune under her breath. It was the kind of silence that made your thoughts louder.
I walked beside Riven, who grumbled about the low branches being 'built to hit dwarves and no one else.'
No one said it, but I think we all felt the same thing: We weren't in danger anymore though we weren't exactly safe either. We didn't talk much, though that was fine.
By midday, we came to a clearing with a wide stream cutting through the trees but not wide enough to be an issue. The water was clear, cold and a refresher from the weight we'd been carrying.
We rested there.
Sera cupped water in her hands and let it run over her face while Mera gathered it into a flask. Riven set to checking the group's gear and complaining about the sand getting stuck everywhere.
I sat on the edge, dipping my fingers into the current. The wind here whispered low and constant, never leaving. I closed my eyes and listened, the steady flow proving to be much more calming than the Gale's harsh conditions.
I wasn't sure how long I sat like that, fingers in the stream and listening to the winds of the forest, but, eventually, my thoughts drifted again. I remembered the Gale's open skies and the purpose of the wind there. Comparing it to the forest, the wind didn't push as much, it stayed, not having a set course and wandering aimlessly only to drift back to it's origin. It didn't feel right to me.
Eventually, I pulled my arm away, watching droplets roll off the surface of my hand as I readjusted to lean on a rock. Sera soon joined me, sitting cross legged on top of the rock I was leaning on. She didn't say anything, and neither did the rest of the group. The silence was calming enough.
Then a voice spoke up, Sera. "Can we get going to the village?"
It was a good thought. We were a bit behind, and honestly, I wanted to see other people.
Riven grunted, tightening the straps of his pack. "Yeah. The sooner we fine a roof and a meal that wasn't boiled in sand, the better."
On the contrary, Mera didn't say much. She just slung her bow over her shoulder and began leading us again without so much as a whisper. Sera hopped down from the rock and offered a small smile. I nodded and stood.
We left the clearing behind, stepping away from the seemingly perfect grove. Light filtered down through patches in the canopy as we moved into the tangled undergrowth. It wasn't long before the trail narrowed and the underbrush thickened once more.
The wind had gone still now. The sounds of nature filling my ears instead of the light breeze and the ruffling of leaves. Distant birdsong filled the space between the party. The calmness only being broken by the occasional rustle of something darting away from the path, unseen.
Mera was leading with quiet confidence, though I'm pretty sure she wasn't following anything more than instinct. Still, we made good progress. Sera was humming again, and Riven wasn't grumbling anymore. He had his hand near his belt, his axe shifting with his steps.
I felt strangely grounded.
It wasn't comfort. Not by a long shot. The lack of the wind blowing in my hair made me feel trapped, like a creature confined within a cage. The wind didn't sting like it had in the Gale. It didn't test me, didn't howl. It stayed, sat in a boring cycle. The lack of freedom made my stomach turn.
We began to climb a short slope, roots of the trees entwined with the ground. But that's all it was. Reaching the crest of the hill, I realized the trees just stop. Gone. The treeline was cut back to make space for a village, creating a sudden gap in the trees.
Sera perked up as the dirt beneath us turned firmer, as if responding to any hint of civilization. "We're here!" She said as the scent of burning firewood hit us.
Then Mera sighed. "Lets get this done already. Find an inn, resupply. Stay here for a few days, maybe a week."
Riven grunted in agreement as Sera was already smiling, walking ahead with a light step. I followed. Glancing back only once, towards the trees, towards the wind.
I wondered if I could stay free, flexible. Even here.
But maybe I would get an answer to that eventually.
And for now, that was enough.
-Sera Lozano-
It felt strange, being around anyone other than Riven, Mera and Aien after two weeks of sand, heat and silence. The sound of day-to-day life and the smell of fresh bread was an almost overwhelming refresher.
The others followed a step or two behind, Mera was focused, Riven was grumbling, and Aien quiet. Quiet as always. That wisp-boy walked like someone waiting for permission to exist. A soft, maybe too soft, presence. Soft, maybe, but not weak.
He glanced back at the forest before walking with us. As if he'd left something behind. I didn't comment.
The village itself wasn't much, stone foundations and slopped roofs. A few chickens loose in the dirt. It was still the kind of place that felt safe to sleep in.
I led the way to what looked like an inn. Smoke rose from the chimney and a sign hung above the door. The Willow's Rest. Neat.
Aien's voice broke the silence behind me. "Is this the average village?"
I turned towards him, stopping next to the inn's door. "Pretty much. You'll get the odd Elf settlement or refugee village, but this is essentially the normal."
He nodded, as if filing a mental note for later. That boy asked questions like someone trying to build a map out of pieces no one else could realise or see.
Mera walked into the room, neglecting to wait for anyone else. Riven followed her in and I held the door open for Aien.
He looked at me like I handed him a knife. Then, a small smile. "Thanks."
"Get inside," I said, gently. "You're the only one not sweating. It's unsettling."
He blinked. Confused, unsure if I was teasing him.
Inside, the inn was small but clean. A few tables scattered near a hearth and the smell of meat stew drifted from the back room. A middle-aged woman sat behind the counter, her face neutral as we entered.
"Travelers?" She asked.
"Four of us," Mera replied, stepping forward. "Food. Room if you have them."
The woman nodded. "Two left. You'll be sharing."
"We'll take them." Riven grunted, tossing a small pouch of coins onto the counter.
Gradually, I let the talk settle into the background. My gaze wandering towards Aien again. He stood near the door, arms loose at his sides. His eyes sweeping the room with quiet curiosity. Not fear, just observation.
He didn't move normally. I've met mages, mercenaries, soldiers and spellcasters. But he didn't move like them. He moved like a wanderer. A wanderer with a deal with the wind itself.
There was something about him I hadn't figured out. Not yet. Something that made the hairs on my arms lift. Made my heart race. Just not in fear.
More like recognition. Curiosity.
I turned towards the bar again. We'd rest tonight. Then stock up. Then keep moving.
But I had a feeling things would change. Not with the wind suddenly watching our every move.
That night, dinner was warm. That was really the best thing I could say about it.
It wasn't especially good, the over-salted stew and the reheated bread. But the warmth was something none of us took for granted. I watched the others eat, everyone was silent as usual. Mera sat closest to the wall, keeping one hand near her bow even with a spoon halfway in her mouth. Riven ate like he was starved and Aien picked at the bread slowly. Chewing like someone not used to food made by other hands.
We didn't talk much. We didn't really need to.
After, the innkeeper handed us two brass keys. I took one and passed the other to Mera, who didn't waste any time getting up the narrow staircase. Riven followed her without hesitation. The pair had a rhythm I had stopped trying to understand ages ago.
That left me and Aien.
The room was simple. One bed, a chair and some small shuttered window. I dropped my pack on the floor and flopped on the bed with a groan. Aien hesitated at the doorway.
"Come in," I said, " It's not a trap."
He stepped into the room like the floor might fall through, then lowered himself into the chair. He looked out the window, eyes unfocused.
"You alright?" I asked, propping myself up on an elbow.
He glanced at me. "I think so. I mean. I've never seen anything like this."
I blinked. "Seriously?"
He nodded.
That explains the way he looked like everything was new. The way he watched the fire, the way he paused before walking through doors.
"You're taking it well." I said.
"I think I'm just tired."
Fair enough. We all were.
I laid back down and stared at the ceiling. "Get some rest. We'll move slow tomorrow."
With that, the night passed without incident. No shouts, broken doors or Crocs clawing their way up from the floor boards. Just silence, and the occasional creak of an old building moving in it's sleep.