SLEN
The sweet smell of rain touched the nostrils of Gorian and he predicted the near future. A storm was moving in from the west. Meovanni already had it. No doubt Kaelin was grateful for the weather. She always had a connection with the rain, Gorian noted.
"Rain's coming," Mar announced.
"No kidding," Gorian replied.
And it started. The pit pat of early drizzle danced along the purple mica streets. The two furres watched as the villagers dashed about, some cheery, others scolded at the oncoming event from above. Either way, the residents were taking shelter.
"I sure hope Forestwind is snug in his inn," Gorian said.
"Yeah."
Gorian looked back at his newly purchased shield. He wondered if it was a mistake to buy it. He really had no idea if it was his grandfather's. He only knew that the shield as so expensive that he and Mar could not afford a night at any of the inns.
"I'm sorry," Gorian told his friend.
"Don't worry about it," Mar said as he looked out onto the streets, "I was the one who dragged you out here in the first place."
Gorian followed Mar's gaze and watched the drizzle change into rain. They felt a little spray, but otherwise they were fine. They were sitting under a large canvass at the edge of an old bar. It was darker out now. Gorian assumed that most of the furres would be turning in for the night soon anyway.
"You didn't drag me out here," Gorian responded, "It was my choice to join you."
"You didn't have to, you know."
"I know."
Ayem's tears, mused Gorian His ears twitched at the rambunctious rain. There was a haunting sound to it all. A distant tune seemed to resonate from his shield into the storm. This had to have been his grandfather's shield...
"Good evening," called a voice from within the rain.
"Cyiet!" called Mar, "I was wondering where you've gone to."
Gorian looked into the eyes of their companion poet. He gestured Cyiet to join them under the ragged drape. The troubadour sat and smiled. He look down at his löe and wiped the wood clean.
"Aren't you going to the inn for the night?" Gorian asked him.
"Nope. I never do. I sleep out in the open."
"Why?"
"I was born and raised in the streets. I never really had a solid roof over my head. I'm not comfortable with one anyway."
"I'm sorry," Gorian said.
"For what?" Cyiet asked, puzzled, "I wouldn't have it any other way."
"We actually met him in the streets of Linde," added the gruff voice of Gelae.
The three watched as Gelae and Moraine entered the now popular shelter. Gelae smiled on entry while Moraine kept her solemn face. They sat and the ice blue furre wrapped his hands around his mate and kept her warm.
"A small boy stole some food from the market," Gelae continued, "It caused an uproar. So much so that the city's guard was called in to hunt down the boy. They eventually found him and started to beat him. Cyiet was there and defended the kid. He took down four guards before he was knocked down."
"Woah," Mar said in disbelief, "No offence, Cyiet, but I never saw it in you."
Cyiet smirked, "None taken."
"The guards just kept beating Cyiet though," Gelae added, "Moraine and I came in and took them down. The boy ran, we have no idea where he went."
"Never any thanks," Moraine muttered.
"Wait a minute," Gorian interrupted, "All of you took on guards? What did they do?"
"They tried to follow us out of the city," she answered, "We lost them in the plateau somewhere."
"I'm sure we're no longer welcomed in Linde," Gelae noted.
"I tried to thank them for rescuing me," Cyiet added, "But they never hear of it."
"You're the one who took the greatest sacrifice. Linde was your home."
"No," the poet argued, "No city is my home. No town nor even camp. Just the streets."
No more was said, but Gorian knew everyone was still thinking in volumes. The three furres were in exile from one of Furcadia's largest cities. Gorian had never been there. In fact Slen was probably the largest place he'd ever been in. But to be kicked out of his hometown ... like Meovanni. That was something he hoped would never happen. Yet this vamp hunting trip that he's on might have serious consequences.
Gorian watched the rain. He missed Kaelin and Moonlit Star. He recalled staying up with Kaelin as a child, just watching the rain fall. The evenings he and Moonlit Star spent under the stars dreaming of meeting their acquaintance. How could childhood be so short?
He heard a shallow breath beside him. Gelae was asleep. Moraine snuggled under his large chin and continued to watch the rain. The rain seemed heavier around them, Gorian noted. He studied the droplets a little more closely and realized it was not rain at all ... it was ice landing on the streets behind them.
"Gelae," Moraine whispered, exhaling a long cold breath. She turned to her mate and shook him, "You're doing it again."
Gelae mumbled something and awoke just long enough to apologize. The sleet suddenly changed back into rain. Moraine was satisfied and snuggled back into his arms. Gorian looked back to Mar. His friend shrugged, but it was all Gorian needed. Mar must have saw it too.
"Mar?"
Gorian and Mar looked up to the new voice. It was the green furre they had journeyed with on the way here. Chloria looked concerned as she studied the two friends sitting there.
"Why aren't you guys at the inn?" she asked.
"It's my fault Chloria," Gorian said, "I bought something that took up most of our money."
"Well that's alright," Chloria said smiling, "It's not like you two aren't familiar with sleeping under the stars, or in this case-."
Chloria extended her paw under the rain and laughed.
"It always rains when I'm in this city," she added, "It makes Forestwind very grumpy."
Her smile faded as she looked at the bar behind them. She sighed a little and looked hesitant.
"What's wrong?" Mar asked.
"I'm supposed to meet a friend of the family in there, but I don't feel like it," she replied as she looked at the poet. Cyiet was breathing more life into the löe, fiddling inconspicuously, yet harmoniously with the rain.
"Do you guys want to go for a walk?" she asked the three of them.
"I will," Mar accepted without hesitation.
"No thanks," Cyiet said smiling, "You two go on without us."
Mar got up and whispered something into Chloria's ear. She laughed and took his arm. They started walking down the street toward the now empty market.
"You know," Gorian said, "I might have wanted a walk."
"Three furres might be too much company," Cyiet said, "Unless they need a poet."
Moraine scoffed at that statement. She was about to add something, but the door beside Cyiet opened. A lupine hopped out. He looked at the poet, Gorian, and the two explorers. He mumbled something but Gorian could not pick it up.
"What did you say?" Moraine asked.
The lupine stared at the black furre for a moment, as if ready to take her on.
"Crazy weather," he said instead and hopped away.
The door remained open. A canine stood there. She had strange green hair, Gorian thought. It was not quite like Mar's or Chloria's. Strange, yet she seemed friendly.
"Are you four trying to keep my wall from falling?" she asked.
"We're sorry," Cyiet said as he and Gorian stood up.
"Don't be," she replied, "I take it you furres can't afford an inn tonight?"
Gorian nodded.
"Come in then," she offered, "No point in staying out in this weird weather."
"Thank you ma'am," Cyiet said.
The strange furre coughed and pointed above her. A sign over the door wiggled slightly against the rain. The letters ESPIO, in strange green, were still clear despite the storm.
"That's my name," she said, "Not ma'am. Besides, I'm pretty sure we're the same age."
Cyiet nodded graciously. Gorian bent to lift his shield. But despite his efforts, he could barely move it.
"Cyiet," Gorian grunted, "Can you give me a hand?"
Cyiet nodded. He bent down with one hand and to Gorian's amazement, the poet lifted the shield and proceeded to the door with it. Gorian followed Cyiet as if in a daze. Both Mar and himself had difficulty moving it but this feline carried it like it were nothing more than an empty backpack.
Gorian heard Moraine motion Gelae awake as the blue furre and the poet entered the bar. The place was empty, no doubt due to the rain. Espio went behind the stools and offered them a drink. Cyiet placed the shield down by the seats and sat. Gorian sat beside him.
"Ginger ale," Gorian said.
"The same," Cyiet added.
Gelae stumbled into the bar. Gorian assumed he was still tired and probably wanted to sleep instead of visiting. Moraine took his arm and helped him walk. Gelae appeared determined to walk to the far end of the room.
"No Gelae, we don't want to be close to the fireplace," Moraine tugged on her mate's arm.
"Oh yeah," Gelae remembered, "Sorry."
Gelae sat closer to the door. Moraine leaned against him and whispered something to his ear. Gelae smiled and dozed off.
"Long day for the big guy?" Espio asked.
"Probably," Gorian said.
He watched as Espio poured ginger ale into three glasses. She offered one to Cyiet, himself, and one for her own.
"I'll assume that the other two just want to sleep for the night," she said with a smile.
"I'm not tired," Moraine responded softly, "But I don't need anything either, thanks."
"Alright," Espio said as she took a sip, "Why are you
furres in town?"
Damoxte looked on from in front of the fireplace. The poet had arms like a soldier, she thought. She turned back to face her master. She wondered to herself if he had ever been in a tavern before. His clothes, although ragged, were of ancient style, even to her. His spear was definitely primitive to her standards. He must have been around for at least two centuries before herself, she figured.
She extended her pink paw from her purple robe onto one of the flames. It was peculiar to her, not to feel the heat in this room or the dipping nocturnal temperatures outside. No warmth nor pain. There was a balance, she thought, if one could call it that.
"Furre of ice," Dark Harvest rasped.
"Mmm hmm..." Damoxte affirmed. Gelae was exactly that. Turning rain into sleet was definitely the calling card of a furre who owned that element. She's not too concerned about him though. His mate looked like an experienced fighter by her own right.
"Furre of music," Dark Harvest continued.
"They do seem to be attracted to our orphans, don't they?" Damoxte inquired, "Music, ice, and seasons. And it only rains when she's here. Stars and water are in Meovanni. Sky and land are our orphans' ancestors. Time and soul are at the fireplace. All connected to Gorian and Markliam. Maybe if we stick around we'll find sand, fire, and light too. Do you believe in fate, Dark Harvest?"
"I believe in death."
Damoxte chuckled, "I'd love to see you drunk."
At the sound of Gelae's snoring, she looked back at the group. Cyiet was telling stories, entertaining both Gorian and Espio. Moraine was looking out the window. She must be in a different world at the moment, Damoxte thought.
A log in the fire cracked open. Moraine jerked her head to the sound. It appeared to the dead furre that she was staring right at herself and Dark Harvest. Damoxte pride herself as an excellent interpreter of the eyes. And at the moment, Moraine's eyes showed absolute fear.
"Can Moraine see us?" the Xte ancient asked her master.
"No."
"How odd."
Dark Harvest rasped something. Damoxte turned to him and noticed the feline's colours fade.
"What's happening?" she asked.
"Someone's dying," he answered, "I'll be back after I collect their soul."
"Where are you going?" she asked quickly as her master's body faded from view.
"Meovanni," his voice said.