Faefalling (working title)

Intro/ Chapter 1

Instead, a hearty gulp of woodland air greeted me atop the stairs and washed the past back where it belonged. I couldn't help but let loose a grim chuckle. Not even out of the forest and I was already losing the dose of sanity and bliss that my little paradise offered.

A faded path stretched into the trees, gleefully awaiting what would surely be its first occupant of the day, however reluctant he was. I whistled for Scathe to follow. A low growl still rumbled in his throat, as he persisted in his patrol of our flaming home. A lovely sentiment, but useless all the same. Another whistle to insist. Finally, he abandoned his post and we set off, ashes rising in salute of our exit.

The sun's first rays began to peak over the surrounding rooftops as I finally traversed the last of the farmlands and approached the gates to the bustling city of Timpearl, brimming with life and passion no matter the hour. I was quickly reminded of my aversion to visiting as said life shattered the sweet morning's silence. Nonetheless, my destination sat smack in the middle of the mayhem, egg yolk to the city's white.

I slipped past the walls and straight into a market. Apprehension rivalling my own, Scathe glued himself to my side. I rested a hand on his back, for both my benefit and his.

A sign bearing Farmer's Market squeaked at the wind's subtle touch. An apt name, considering the abundance of them ahead. Either behind stalls or before them, the farmers sported thin wool garments, loose and supple, made to accommodate a life spent under the sun.

Our approach instantly jarred them out of trades and conversation. Eyes widened before darting away and whispers filled the air, speaking of wary excitement. I gulped.

My hand skittered down my left arm, tracing a path to and from the armlet tattoo down to the scuffed, leather vambrace. I kept my eyes trained forward, avoiding gazes and trying to take some comfort in Scathe's neck pressing into my waist.

The merchants were first to recover. They reignited their boastful calls and prices, tables laden with everything from flimsy knickknacks and priceless jewels to herbs, meats and spices.

The mass of bodies swam with a medley of odours aching to singe my nostrils, and tangy spices mixing in the breeze threatened to start my head pounding. Already, sweat and grime had plastered matted locks to my forehead. It was beyond me how the vendors managed to spend their days on the street, without reprieve from the harsh sun, nor the cacophony of smells that raged around them. A few attempted to approach me, trying to haggle for a few tuuns, but a second glance at my companion sent them scurrying to other clients. I slunk off towards the side streets, eager to leave behind both the chaos and the audience.

Though another row of stalls lined the alleyway, the traders were noticeably more reserved. As I shimmied my way down the tight road, a child crashed into me. I caught the boy before he landed headfirst in the dirt. A group of what I assumed were his friends rounded the corner in time to see me pick him up. Their eyes widened and they skidded to a stop, watching from a distance. I dusted the boy off and set him back on his feet.

"You olright?" I asked, glancing over the tiny horns adoring his head. They were just growing in, not even a finger's length.

His mouth hung open. It was only when he looked away from Scathe, who towered over him, that he found his voice. "You look like...  Are you a warrior? I wanna be a warrior when I grow up. Just like my dad. I'll win the war and be the big hero!" the little lad exclaimed.

"I hope not," I frowned, patting the scruffy hair between his horns as I turned away.

The children regrouped, eager chatter filling the void in my wake. I tuned them out, attention swiveling back to the merchants. One had drawn near during the commotion, and motioned toward her wares. Whatever pitch she'd been waiting to voice died at Scathe's growl. I clucked at him, but didn't slow my step.

"Not much longer now," I whispered. "Just through here, pup."

At the alley's bottleneck, one last stall barred our way. As with the others, I gave a cursory glance, but this time paused. Amongst a varied display of necklaces, one caught my eye. It offered little in terms of shine or luster, and was very nearly drowned out by the surrounding sea of silver and gold, but the way it held itself made me steal another look. Delicate and purposeful, unassuming but elegant.

My feet drew me closer until I was touching the dark blue cord. The disruption jostled its dangling crescent moon jewel; white as bone and cold as ice, in stark defiance of the day's growing heat. I'd never seen such a gem, though I could think of one who would likely revel in lecturing me on its history.

What a stupid idea. Not only that, but a whim likely to be shot down. I had little to lose at the time.

"Twenty tuuns and she's yours," rasped a tan woman slouched in a chair.

I frowned. Wildly overpriced, but I couldn't be bothered to stay in conversation for as long as the bargaining would surely take. I dug around in my satchel and found a bag of coins crushed beneath an apple. One by one, I tossed the funds onto the table, nearly draining my reserves in the process. The vendor nodded towards my prize with a wicked grin, displaying two rows of dagger teeth.

"Greedy bastard," I muttered once I was an arm's length away. She didn't even raise her head, far too busy drinking in her haul.

I wound my purchase into a ball and slid it into my pocket with a sigh. Market left behind, I sidled into cleaner, less peopled streets. With the dimming of the city's hubbub came grander homes and greener spaces. I quickened my pace all the more, urged by the increased judgement of stares, sparser as they were.