The village was alive with the quiet energy of a warm morning. At twelve, Wads and Klyden moved through the streets with ease, their strides confident, laughter carrying over the cobblestones. The black cat followed lazily behind them, weaving between the legs of passing townsfolk.
The market was a riot of color and sound. Stalls overflowed with fruits, vegetables, and baked goods. The smell of fresh bread mixed with roasted meat and herbs, teasing Wads' senses as he scanned the scene with careful attention. Klyden, in contrast, darted from stall to stall, his energy magnetic, pulling Wads along despite his usual measured pace.
Atticus, smaller and younger, struggled to keep up, his red hair catching the morning sun. He had been spending more time with the two friends ever since Liora had gone north, and though he sometimes felt out of place, he trusted them completely.
"Slow down!" Atticus panted, clutching a small basket of apples. "I'm not used to this pace!"
Klyden spun around with a grin. "That's because you're too serious, Atticus! Adventure waits for no one!"
Wads adjusted the strap of his bag, eyes scanning the stalls carefully. "We're not running blindly. Watch your step. That cart isn't secured properly."
Klyden rolled his eyes but laughed. "See? He's always thinking ahead. That's why I stick with him."
They reached a fountain at the center of the square, its waters sparkling under the morning sun. Atticus leaned against the stone rim, catching his breath, cheeks flushed. Wads and Klyden flanked him naturally, as if it were instinct that the three of them belonged together.
"You're lucky we let you come along, little one," Klyden teased, nudging Atticus gently.
Atticus looked up at them, half-smiling. "I know… thanks." His voice wavered slightly, betraying a lingering sadness. "I… I won't be going to the capital with you when the time comes. I'm too young."
Wads' gaze softened, and he placed a steady hand on Atticus' shoulder. "It doesn't matter. You've got us here. We'll make sure you're ready when it's your turn."
Klyden crouched down beside him, grin unwavering. "Exactly! Besides, you get the best of both worlds—you get to explore here while we go on dangerous missions in the future. Lucky, right?"
Atticus chuckled lightly, though a shadow of longing lingered. The three friends spent the morning wandering the market, teasing stall owners, sampling baked goods, and occasionally tossing coins into the fountain to make wishes. Wads noticed everything—the crooked tiles on the fountain's edge, the way the sunlight hit the polished apples, even the small, almost invisible crack in a merchant's crate—but he didn't let it stop him from enjoying the moment.
At one stall, Klyden bought a small wooden toy horse and handed it to Atticus. "For you. Because even if you can't go to the capital yet, you've got to have your own adventures."
Atticus held the toy carefully, eyes brightening. "Thank you… really."
The three of them sat on the edge of the fountain, eating sweet rolls and sharing stories of past exploits—the black cat weaving lazily around their feet. Wads and Klyden laughed as Atticus tried to retell a minor mishap from the week before, exaggerated for dramatic effect, and for a few hours, the worries of the future faded entirely.
As the sun climbed higher, casting golden light across the village, Wads glanced at Klyden and Atticus. The bond between them felt unbreakable—two years of shared adventures, laughter, and quiet understanding had forged something stronger than simple friendship. Atticus might be younger, less experienced, but in that moment, he wasn't small or powerless. He belonged.
And for Wads and Klyden, that knowledge—the certainty that they would always have each other—was enough.