We've been walking in this stupid forest so long, my legs feel numb. My stomach growls. I hadn't finished eating yet when Bird Girl dragged me away from what few resources we had and the only people that gave us any chance of making it back home. Thanks, Riveirre.
Now we're wandering through foreign land, with no knowledge of what's out here and absolutely no safety net if we fail. We have nothing to save us from dying except whatever meager survival skills we have. So we walk. Maybe we'll find some sort of resource, some shelter. Maybe we're destined to walk until we can't anymore, until we're skeletons sitting against a tree, just waiting for some other poor soul to wander upon us centuries from now.
One hour passes.
Two.
Four hours.
Seven.
The light of the dying sun turns murky, dripping through fall leaves and barren branches. The air is hazing into liquid amber, like we're specimens in some vitalitist's jar of formaldehyde. In the silence, the dry crack of our footsteps against deadwood makes an eerie echo. The wind creaks against the trees, cutting colder each minute. Riveirre shivers, hugging her arms closer to her chest.
I glance away. "It was colder in the Valleys."
She glares. As though trying to cover her reaction, she looks away, dropping her arms. "I know."
"Skies, Riveirre, I wasn't making fun of you." I shove my hands into my pockets. "I was just saying that we shouldn't freeze to death."
She's uncharacteristically quiet, the steadily rising wind speaking for her instead. "Shouldn't," she finally says, "is a lot different than won't."
Her level, weighted words give me pause. I stop walking. "What are you saying?"
She keeps moving. "Standing here isn't going to find us shelter."
"Hey." I catch her arm. "What are you talking about?"
She turns to me, her serious brown eyes staring into mine. "A storm's coming, Sean. So I'd suggest you let go and help me find somewhere safe."
Her arm drops from my grip, and she keeps walking. Despite her collected tone, the tension in her shoulders betrays her apprehension. She glances left and right, searching but not finding.
I can't even see the sky through this canopy, much less make out a storm cloud. "And how do you know?"
Now she pauses, facing me again. The air whips her hair in swirling rings around her head, and the evening shadows shroud her gaze. "There are no birds in the trees, Sean." A dark colored blur flies between us, and I startle. The darting bird buries itself beneath a bush. "They've been doing that for a while now. Have you not noticed?"
Night finally falls as I try to reinstitute a regular rhythm to my breathing. "So what? Dive-bombing birds equal our impending doom?"
I pull my lantern out just in time to see her eyes spark. "You know, Sean, sometimes animals are smarter than humans. Especially certain ones." She stares at me pointedly. "Birds hide before a storm. If we had half the sense they do, we would too."
"Well I'm not the one who dragged us away from our guides and tent!"
"You followed me! You can't blame me for your—" Lightning flashes above us as thunder cracks in the sky. Our gazes slowly lower as the thunder rumbles away.
She rubs the charm of her necklace. "That wasn't far."
A dark form slinks at the edge of my peripheral vision. I freeze. "Hey, Riveirre?" She looks at me. "You think there's any big predators in these woods?"
Something in my forced calm tone seems to set her on edge. Her eyes sweep the area. "Probably bears. Some wolves, maybe lynxes. Why? What did you see?"
The undergrowth rustles, and I swing my lantern around. A pair of glowing yellow eyes track us low in the bushes. My fingers fumble for my pocket knife, and I flip it open. Riveirre edges closer to me. The leaves shake again, moving around the creature as it steps into the open.
Riveirre laughs. "A cat, Sean? You were scared of a cat?"
"What, and you weren't? Besides, it could still have rabies or whatever, couldn't it?"
The fat white fuzzball regards us, then plops down and rolls onto its back, as though wanting to be petted. Thunder cracks the sky again. Riveirre flinches, but the cat only gives a mild meow, like the thunderstorm is an irritating neighbor ruining its plans for the night. When we don't pet it, it wriggles back onto its feet and starts moving the way it came.
I shake my head. "Come on, Riveirre. We've wasted enough time here."
"Wait! Aren't we going to follow it?"
I look over my shoulder and raise an eyebrow. "You want us to follow the cat?" The first drops of rain ping against my head, cold and sharp.
"I don't know if you noticed, but it seems rather... well-fed to say the least."
"So?"
"So someone must be taking care of it, Sean!"
The wind drives the rain across my cheek, drops coming thicker and faster. We need to find shelter, soon, and Riveirre wants to go on a wild cat chase. "There are no people in the Outerlands."
"A month ago, I would have told you there was no Outerlands! We don't know anything about this place."
Hardly believing my luck at getting stuck with an animal-following lunatic, all I can do is repeat, "You want to follow the cat."
Water glistens on her face. "Look, Sean, if you want to stay out here, get drenched, and die of hypothermia, feel free. But I'm getting out of this storm."
The cat meows indignantly at the rain. Its whole body jiggles as it tries to shake away the drops. Realizing that strategy isn't working for it, it meows again and keeps plodding away.
Riveirre spreads her hands. "I'm leaving, Sean. Come if you want." She tucks her arms to her chest, ducks her head against the rain, and hurries after the cat.
"You don't have any light!" I protest.
"Then come with me!"
"Riveirre..." I growl and hurry after her for the second time today.
Rain punches through the air in sheets, falling thicker every minute. Shadows twist around us, half-formed shapes that rise in the swinging lantern light and disappear behind the deluge. The cat weaves through the forest, dipping left and right surprisingly quickly for its size. Booming thunder rolls through the sky, chasing us as we stumble to keep up with our guide. Water soaks my clothes and streams down my skin, freezing my bones. The air seems more liquid than gas, like we're swimming in an ice river rather than running.
We burst into a clearing.
Ivy crawls up a pink-paneled house with chipped paint, candles flickering in the windows. A faded, yellow-lettered sign informs us that we've arrived at the "Kuddly Kitten." Through the murk and water, an amateur cat caricature scowls from the sign. The real cat struggles up the steps and bumps its head repeatedly into the powder blue door. Riveirre and I hurry under the porch awning, exchanging looks of disbelief.
In a strange brogue—but definitely my language—a voice calls from inside, "Hold on, my precious!" A few seconds later, a middle-aged, round-faced woman opens the door. Atop her head, a failure of a bun frizzes out around her face.
The woman picks up the cat, returning to a living room inside, and places the spoiled feline in her lap. She coos at it in a voice people usually reserve for infants. "Oh, my precious little baby! You're all wet! Where have you been, you sweet little thing? Why, you've been out wandering the forests again, haven't you?" She grabs a throw blanket from her couch, wrapping it around the cat. "And you brought me new people."
Here she flicks her eyes up at us, smiling, and I decide that's enough invitation to get out of the weather. Stripping my shoes and soaked jacket, I stride inside. Riveirre's eyes are wide as she peers into the building. I look back and forth between her and the room, trying to hurry her in.
She takes the hint, quickly wringing out her hair on the deck before following. The door shuts, muting some of the storm's noise. Inside, the air is warm, but my chilled limbs still shake.
The woman must not have gotten enough time with her 'precious baby,' though, because she ignores us and returns her attention to it. "Why, you must be tired! Going all that way out there in the rain! Here, baby, you need a treat."
She fishes three blocks of cheese out of an apron pocket. The cat lazily laps them out of her hand. "Can't have my little baby getting all exhausted, can I?" That taken care of, she finally finds her way to the land of adults. "What can I do for you two?" she beams.
My eyes rove the room, taking in the soft sofas and warm fireplace. "This is an inn," I realize dully. That's what the sign was about. An inn in the Outerlands. The enormity of everything I don't know about this place settles hard in my chest.
The woman takes my quiet statement as a question. "Why, yes it is! Are you looking for rooms?" Without waiting for an answer, she calls to another part of the house, "Bukki, we have people looking for rooms!"
"What, dear?" a man's voice calls out.
"We have—" she starts to yell, then shakes her head. "Oh, never mind."
"What, dear?" he repeats.
"Never mind!"
"You know, how about I just come in there?" On 'there,' a stick of a man wanders around the corner, still yelling. "Oh. Sorry," he says, lowering his voice. He brushes his unkempt hair out of his eyes. "Dear, why didn't you tell me we had visitors?"
I look at my fellow cat-chaser and raise my eyebrows. Beside me, she mouths in Errelian, Crazy? A questioning look fills her eyes, mixing with the doubt and fear already there.
"Yeah, I'm out of here," I reply quietly, beginning to turn back the way we came.
She grabs my wrist. "Where else are we going to go?"
"I don't know, Riveirre!" I hiss. "But I'd rather not be stuck with two nutjobs and their cat in the middle of nowhere."
"We don't have another choice!" she whispers.
"What are you saying, dears?" the woman asks innocently, having finished straightening everything out with her husband.
My eyes slide to her, misgiving still heavy in my mind. "I was going to say goodbye." I turn again.
"Oh, no!" She sounds honestly dismayed. "Where are you going to go? It's pouring! Look, if money's an issue, that's perfectly alright."
"Money's not the problem," I interrupt. Your questionable sanity is.
"Splendid. How's a copper a night sound?"
My brow furrows. "What do you mean 'a copper'?" A blank look is all I receive in return.
Riveirre pulls out her bag of stone-marks and presses a few into the woman's hand. "Here."
The woman inspects them, a puzzled frown creasing her lips. "Why, these are just rocks with a design on them. They're not copper at all." She passes the marks back to Riveirre. "I'm not sure which strange lordship uses these, but they won't pass in this area. You two are welcome to stay, though, as long as you need. Just... reimburse me whenever you can afford it. How's that sound? Plus, there's dinner. Well, and breakfast and lunch. But right now, dinner." The brightness of her smile could give the sun some serious competition.
As if on cue, my stomach growls.
"Oh, see, we can't have that. Come on. I've got everything on the stove." She rises, laying the cat on the coffee table.
I grimace at the furry blob settled next to a bowl of mints.
"Bukki, go get them some dry clothes. Jacin should have some that'll fit Mr..." She glances at me. "What did you say your name was, dear?"
These people aren't even supposed to be out here, and she wants something as trivial as my name? She acts as if this is all normal, understandable, rather than an impossible, confusing mess.
We're not getting back to the Valleys. Any tiny hope of that is as washed away as the path back to the Traders. And this lady thinks us being here is normal. "Rahkifellar. Sean Rahkifellar."
"Mr. Rahkifellar," she finishes, "and the girl will just have to do with something of mine." She returns her attention to us, smiling. "Well, what are you doing just standing there? Go dry off by the fire."
With that, she flits off to another room, not a care in the world.