She awoke with a heaving grasp, bones and muscles screaming in pain down to the marrow and to the tendon. Maia has no idea where she is; one second she’s falling, another she’s rising. Her arms are screaming for sweet release, begging for her to let go and slump down again. But that deep, animalistic urge to move has her sitting. She’s starting to recognize some things. The canvas ceiling of a tent, the rays of sunlight shining through the fabric, the scent of boar meat…

  Her stomach rumbles. She feels so weak. This must be the fort. So Homer dragged her here then? How long has it been? Neither him or Aymanah are present, but the smell of food… They must be close. Did Euclid reward them already? If Homer and Aymanah aren’t at her bedside, some time must’ve passed. They’ve grown used to her resting- or are sure of her being stable.

  She tries to push herself to stand, but her legs just do not work- and so she uselessly flops onto her side, exhaling. She was never the perfect picture of health to begin with, frail and a little malnourished, but this was a wholly new experience.

  Her vision begins to blur, hopelessly drifting off to sleep just in time to see the tent fp open. Homer’s peeking in with a tired expression, eyes widening just as hers close.

  “Maia? Maia!”

  His voice slurries in her ears and turns into a comfortable rumbling akin to a storm’s rain on the roof of her hovel back home, mouth slowly tugging to a smile as she finally wafts off, letting the rumbling comfort her. Homer’s hands shake her shoulders, rocking her about like a babe embraced by a loving parent. And so,

  Maia sleeps.

  And she wakes, and sleeps, and wakes.

  She catches things bit by bit every time. It’s only been a day according to Homer the next time she wakes, and then two when she wakes up the next day. The trollhog was eradicated to the bone, leaving behind a disgusting showcase of ivory and flesh, split in twain so cleanly dy Euclid was suspicious of the authenticity of the kill for a few moments.

  But only a few. She eventually agreed and gave them their promised reward. Aymanah and Homer were fine and survived the event without a scratch, although Homer mentioned that it felt like his hair had gotten a little greyer from the event- whether from worry or from being so close to Death itself was uncertain. She didn’t want to entertain the thought even as a joke. Of course, the momentum of the trollhog had carried even as she killed it, but he could handle a little smack from some rattling bones.

  After utterly eradicating half of the trollhog she’d just flopped down. They thought she was dead at first, so utterly unmoving and unbreathing, but her heart kept beating… And then eventually she started to breathe again too, which is when they dragged her back to camp to rest.

  So she must’ve been with Death for those few hours. Dead yet alive, heart beating with no air in her lungs. What a curiosity. She decides to not mention the matter to Homer or Aymanah. ‘Tis not a matter of ck of trust, but a matter of wishing to keep such a moment private to herself. Would they gain anything from knowing of her dalliance besides a chance to tease her?

  Not on her life.

  It took her a few more days to recover fully, aided both by Aymanah’s occasional chattering for mental recovery and Homer’s overbearingly protective bedside manner- and heapings upon heapings of trollhog soup. Gamey and thick to the bite with a broth that made her throat parched the instant it hit her gullet…

  Just the kind of thing she needed.

  By the third day after the trollhog sying she was on her feet and ready to move on. Euclid had provided them with exactly what they needed; a wagon full of supplies, two horses to pull them and even a pouch of gold in case they ran into trouble that could be solved by money. From here it’d be a straight ride right to the capital city.

  “If you ever happen to need more work after this, do come look for me… I’d be gd to have such capable workers under my employ. The Hell brothers are useful goons, but-”

  Euclid chuckles and covers her mouth.

  “I’ve always thought age and experience mattered more.”

  Homer could deal with the flirtations, but he couldn’t quite tell her that he pnned to never come back. A little ugh here and there, smiles Maia had learned to recognize as forced, and a wave of the hand and they were on the open road. The wagon was rge enough for all three, but Aymanah usually preferred to perch atop it instead of sitting inside. Let them spread their wings and enjoy the breeze. Their pace *could* have been faster if they abandoned the wagon and just rode the horses, but the comfort offered would do better. Sleeping in the wagon was safer,

  and they were in no hurry.The road started to get busier soon enough, now that the mountains and the fort guarding it were fully behind them. Nature became more and more vibrant, and smaller roads kept joining the main road- like they were smaller streams connected to a rger river.

  And with these smaller streams came fish to the river, continuous streams of other travelers like salmon swimming upstream towards their final destination. Carriages, people walking, even some more exotic sights like a centaur pulling their own carriage of goods like a draft horse, and one case of a moleman visibly digging through the soft soil between the roads, avoiding the paved road like the pgue.

  “Over in the capital, that sort of diversity’s to be expected. Aye, majority’s humans, but elves like Euclid, centaurs and such… I’d say almost half the popution is composed of all sorts of people. At least they did when I left. Say what you want about the Iskariot dynasty, but rocking the boat with random bouts of human supremacy didn’t seem to be on the agenda.”

  Iskariots. The Steel dynasty before them and this current dynasty; both topics had come up here and there. Maia was not one for politics, but she knew the basics.

  The Steel dynasty was the ruling family of the nd for hundreds of years- perhaps thousands- since history had been first written, ciming divine descent from many Gods over their illustrious line. And this had all been proven by the Gods themselves.

  Until they were not; the st king of the dynasty was a bastard with nary a drop of godlike blood in his veins. He had ruled wisely and he had ruled well, but once his deception was found out and the priests decreed him a heretic of the highest order, the whole kingdom fell into a ruinous civil war. Some sides attempted to raise one of the other remaining Steels to the throne, some tried to break away- for example, the coastal city of Acre- but most eventually concentrated on the Iskariots.

  A noble family spun away from the main Steel line hundreds of years ago, ciming their descent from the gods Comedy, Arts and Life. A generally indulgent lot that under the leadership of Peter, the eventual first Iskariot king, threw the Steel king from his throne through a coup. And so the civil war came to an end, the people and nd ravaged, throne untarnished…

  Or so was the story told by her parents. Maia was fairly uneducated in regard to the history and politics of the kingdom. Her parents passed down the necessary information and that was that; even during these travels she hadn’t asked. The most modern interpretation came from Homer, whom she knew had fought during the war. He seemed hesitant to speak of the topic further, and she respected his wishes.

  “Silly people. This is why you have the council deciding on everything… And then the other councils too, one for each tribe.” Maia could hear Aymanah’s talons scraping against the top beam of the wagon from where they sat. “When the councils come together, the general will of each tribe is heard, and a decision that benefits everyone can be reached.”

  “A decision like your general exile from the world at rge, bird brain? Has your council ever thought about how murdering anyone who comes close to the Sawbones might be a bad idea?” Homer’s voice was light- he was likely just looking to wrestle with words for the fun of it.

  “There were good reasons at the time, or so the elders say… You know I don’t agree with any of that. Or did you already forget, old man? Maybe you should lie down and let Maia tend to the horses, we wouldn’t want you forgetting where we were going.”

  “Please don’t involve me in this” is all that Maia chirps as she returns to her prayers. Being able to sit at the front of the wagon meant that she had all the sitting time she needed to mumble out her prayers to Death, which had become even more devout and saccharine since their encounter in the world between.

  “Lie down? And let you drive, bird brain? Your sense of direction is terrible! You’ve never even seen a horse in your life before this, and don’t you try and lie! I saw no damn horses the whole time I was up that mountain!”

  “What use is there for a horse when one has wings?”

  And this sort of argument just goes around in circles. People passing them give them the occasional worried gnce, keeping a wider berth from their carriage. Thank the gods that the road was wide enough for three whole carriages of their size to go side by side, so there was actual space for said wide berth. Yet Maia could tell that Homer and Aymanah were having fun in their own way. Homer enjoyed the little horsepy, and Maia could tell Aymanah liked having someone who actually argued their points with them.

  They still had challenges to figure out. How would they secure permission to attend the ceremony when they got to the capital? What would Aymanah do if Homer died and Maia became predisposed? Would Homer actually fight War and die, as he had sworn to?

  “No, a horse with wings would not be optimal, you birdbrain- harnessing that sort of thing would be annoying, and it’d take so much more space.”

  “Just build better harnesses and better stables.”

  “Across the whole kingdom? You’re going to upend the economy with your birdbrained idea!”

  “But it’d be good for the people.”

  “What’s good for the people in the long term makes you make rash decisions in the short term! You need to consider the current moment before you make pns for the future, or you end up hurting more people now than you’ll help ter!”

  “You’re being awfully serious about imaginary flying horses, old man.”

  And would she have to listen to this sort of inane conversation and bickering over *nothing at all* for the whole ride? She had serious doubts about anything shaking up their journey now that they were on the main road. Would Maia have to spend the whole time on a glorified road trip listening to an old man and some harpy bickering?

  Somehow, the thought makes her smile rather than grimace.The road ahead would be long, but any trip went by in a fsh when in the company of good friends.

  “Maia, come on! Say something to this bird brain already!”“Maia doesn’t want to take sides. She’s impartial like that. If she did pipe up, it’d be in my favor anyway…”

  ………… Even good friends such as this.