Feathers

The Way You Squirm

"Sorren!" The short avian, his eyes nearly cloaked by the wrinkles of his skin, hopped from foot to foot with joy when he saw her. Though he had two Feral men pawing through his wares, he left his stall and waddled out to meet her. "Oh, look at you! Your hair is so long!"

She smiled. He was such a sweet and enthusiastic old man, with as much soul as there was hair in his ears- and there was a lot.

"You know, I was told that the king had gone into Deepfell to capture a Feral. I immediately thought of you, of course. After all, who would take care of the sick animals if you were gone?"

"Another Feral, I would hope," she said sincerely.

"Have you seen the king out there? He is back in the city now, for business. He returns every few weeks or so to see that things are in line. He often spends time hunting in Deepfell. I would have thought he would be done sooner, you know?" Batitrus hobbled back into the stall.

Sorren was aware that the two Ferals were watching her. "Yes...I have seen him and his men. I...was forced into combat with them, but I escaped before they could turn their attention my way."

"Oh my! What did you fight that could have convinced you to do such a risky thing?"

Her hands were sweating against the rough bag. "If I hadn't, I would have put many more at risk. Imagine if the king died in Deepfell. Who do you suppose they would blame?"

"It would be us," one of the men beside her growled. His thick brown dreadlocks were tied back in a short ponytail, scars pink against his tanned skin. He had a weapon strapped to his thigh, waist and back; he was no stranger to combat.

She nodded and Batitrus sighed. "Yes, I could see that happening. They do make such a fuss about things," he said. "But what was it? Not a bear, surely!"

"No," she hesitated. She did not want Bear to find out, or anyone else. "It was the Gagra."

Sorren saw the other man's jaw drop, clearly the brother of the one who had spoken to her. They looked nearly identical.

"What is a Gagra?" Batitrus asked.

"The beast from hell with jaws for a face! Bigger than two bears and stronger than four, it kills anything it smells and it smells everything," he said.

Sorren opened her satchel and revealed a long white tooth and a giant black claw. The brothers held them up and observed them carefully as if doubting their authenticity.

"They did bring in the remains of a few guards who had encountered such a thing," Batitrus murmured, tapping his fingers on the table of his stall. "And you killed it?" He seemed worried.

"I only helped. It took all five of us to accomplish the task. But you must not speak of this, any of you. I would be in a great deal of trouble," she said, glaring at them.

"You are the Bear's girl, yes?" One of the brothers asked, handing both trophies back.

She nodded.

"I would hate to piss off a bear," the other laughed.

"He is very sick right now. He has water in his lungs and is too weak to stay awake. My other friend also walks the thin line between life and death. He has a broken bone and many deep wounds," she said, looking to the old healer, a pile of wrinkles and wisdom.

"Did the bone show?"

"Yes."

"I have medicine for the wounds, but to prevent infection in the bone would take something much stronger. Neither that, nor medicine for pneumonia do I have. You will have to go to the West Middle Quarter for them. Seek out Durmer, but know that it is expensive medicine you seek and he will try to take the clothes from your back. You must fight him for I do not know if what you have brought will be enough," Batitrus warned sadly. He found a stout glass container with a silver lid, full of blue-green cream and set it on the counter.