The Flame Keeper

Chapter 22

And how terribly wrong I was to make that assumption. The change was subtle and gradual as we headed deep into Wynnville, the houses and buildings slowly meshing together, their walls receding to a shade of rusted copper amongst grim yellow panels and railings the color of denim. Long, winding pipes strewn over the sides coughed clouds of water vapor out of sears it had sustained over the years, unchecked by the people concerned for things other than what had seemed to be hardly a problem so long ago. Alongside the pipes were long, drooping wires that stretched overhead, buzzing occasionally with a surge of power.

Splotches of grime and blood stained the streets, which had narrowed to the width of one cab—one nearly hit us as we sprang to the side just in time. The red-faced driver cursed at us as he snapped the reins a little too forcefully for my liking, the steed whinnying painfully before it broke into a gallop, trampling waste bins and bursting open trash bags that spewed pungent smells along the street.

I stumbled over a basket full of rotting fruits and worms burrowing within them, and landed into the soft haven of cushions, or so I thought. Camila flapped crazily and hovered over me, her eyes pulsing an amber glow that seemed to warn me. Before I could even turn around, the pungent smell of rotting food and stinking filth burned my nose and I sprang out of the dumpster.

Though it had broken my fall, I wasn't exactly pleased with the grime that clung to my clothes as I wiped a banana peel off the top of my head.

I looked over at the three: Ken was on the verge of tears as he covered his mouth in an attempt not to laugh, Albert clutched his stomach in sheer agony as he bottled the laughter up, and Matilda had raised an eyebrow and a sly smile tugged at her lips.

Even Camila had perched on a low-lying wire, her beak seemingly wrinkling at the sight of filth strewn across my shirt.

"Oh, c'mon," I said irritably as I attempted to wipe my shirt, only to smear the filth even more. At last, Ken's hand couldn't resist the bubbling feeling that flooded from his mouth and he let it out, an uncontrollable fit of laughter that was soon joined by Alberto's rumbling chuckle.

Tap. "What?!" I whipped around expecting Camila to be poking (fun) at me with her talons, but she remained perched on the wire and gave me a curious look. Another tap, followed by the cool water that streamed down my neck, confirmed my suspicions.

Sssss. The tiny flame that illuminated our surroundings flickered before succumbing to a large raindrop that consumed it whole. I looked up and the night sky had been covered in a layer of thick fog that showered rain down on us, smudging windows and dangling light bulbs that cast a surreal glow, the light streaming through the prism of raindrops. I could almost make out a faint rainbow emerging from the array of colors, but perhaps it was just the fog playing tricks on me.

"We should be fine, right?" Ken asked as he scrambled under an overhang that clearly was hastily slapped together with a few rusty metal plates and a hope that it wouldn't immediately collapse on itself.

"Of course," Matilda snorted as she leaned back, basking in the shower. "It's just a little drizzle—"

A thunderous boom erupted above us, like one cloud had cracked a joke and the others fell into a fit of laughter, and the distant crack of lightning stopped her mid-sentence. But before she could utter another word, the gentle pit pat of little raindrops was no more; large, watery tears seeped from the clouds, plummeting down like an onslaught of artillery shells.

"On second thought... we better run!"

Though under the overhang, the weather was not merciful to Ken either as the rain bombarded the many puddles scattered along the street, soaking him to his socks.