Feathers

The Way You Squirm

"Would you feel more comfortable if we went with you to the West Middle Quarter? You have done all Ferals and their families a great service by killing the Gagra. It would be our honor to help you with your bargaining," one brother said.

"Yes, we could help make his decision...a little more clear," said the other, grinning.

She chuckled. "My presence there alone will cause more than a few ruffled feathers. If you tried to intimidate a Flock Avian, we might all be in thick mud. Besides, with the Peregrines in Deepfell, I am trying not to gather attention. I don't want them following me home. I think I can handle this male myself if I was able to escape the king-to-be." She could not help the devilish grin that spread across her face.

He nodded his agreement and reached into his pocket, withdrawing a small pouch, plopping it down beside Batitrus' jar. "Put the remaining value toward our future purchase," he said. "It is the least we could do."

Sorren felt him push the cold glass into her hands.

"My name is Trypt and this is my brother, Seth. We live halfway between the Trout River and the Wilds. If you need help, Bear girl, please call on us. We would enjoy knocking around some Peregrines," he said.

"Thank you very much," she replied.

"You will have little trouble finding yourself a mate, Sorren," Batitrus said when they were out of earshot. "There go two fine young men who would keep you safe and happy."

Sorren laughed at him. "Oh, no! Ha ha. I will not take a mate until long after this settles down and the Peregrines are gone from Deepfell and Bear is well again."

"A wise decision. I wish you and your friends luck. I hope you stay safe, and hidden, and they heal quickly. You will visit if you come back to the market, won't you? I just love your stories and adventures," he smiled.

"Ones that I would share with you now if I did not have to hurry back to Bear."

"Oh, yes, of course! Shoo! I will see you another time," he waved her away.

Sorren laughed and trotted back toward the gates to a larger street where foot traffic moved in two directions. With a nervous sigh, she joined the flow toward the palace even though it was the last place she wanted to be near. However, because Peregrines could not touch a Feral that had arrived at the city for business, it was one of the safest places she could be. The fact that the silver-eyed was also there, however, dispelled any comfort she might have found.

Crow swooped by as she entered the West Middle Quarter, her feet burning on the hot stone, dust stinging her eyes. Crossing the main road had been terrifying, dodging carts pulled by horses and sprinting messengers. Flock Avians expected her to leap out of their way.

She received many stares and odd looks as she moved past small cottages in neat rows. Few had seen a Feral in their Quarter before.

Sorren was too preoccupied searching for the market, listening for all the voices and scents. She was growing weary from walking so far on the unforgiving surface and her feet felt blistered and burnt. The streets were nothing like the soft leaf litter of Deepfell; the impact of each step jarred her bones.

She let out her breath in relief when she finally found the market and rushed over to stores that looked promising. She felt odd entering the caves built from stone and wood, but the shopkeepers were glad to quickly see her out after they made their deals so she spent as little time inside them as possible to deter regular customers, even if it meant giving her an extra coin to avoid haggling.

"Wild things," one female muttered, her hair nearly obscured by a ridiculous headdress.

"Dirty, vulgar creature," another said, tugging her dress away from Sorren's bare feet.