I try to hide my pink paw behind my blue one. “U-um, yes please.” I murmur. The shopkeeper nods and stands up on his hind legs, batting the basket down easily and catching it on his back. He grabs the top handle in his jaws and hands it to me. “Three gold, northern-lights.” He orders. I fumble to shove three pieces toward him and hold the basket in my jaws at the same time. He nods to me, dropping the gold in a bag strapped tightly to his side, turning to talk with another customer. Success. I trot out of the stall and stop back at the band, where they’ve started another song. I fish out a few more gold coins and slide them next to the paw of the singer. I check the pouch. Six more. Why did they give me this much? Expecting me to buy more? I shrug. I’m tightening the strap connected to my pouch when Shade catches my eye. He’s talking to a red Sky wolf with yellow eyes, laughing. I duck into the crowd so he doesn’t see me. I weave through the bustling marketplace, passing stalls selling weapons, fresh prey, cooked prey, healing supplies, and much more. I reach the border of Peace, sit down where we saw the guard, and let out a relieved breath as I set down the basket I was carrying. Geez. Crystal weaves through the crowd as well, looking very proud of themselves. “Hey, Crys.” I call. They bound toward me. “I couldn’t find anything for Skystorm, but I did find some really cool maps that I think could help with the search for Damyan!” They exclaim. Then they stop. “Why do you smell like a maple forest?” They ask. “I don’t know!” I blurt, picking up my basket. “L-let’s go. I want to get started on making a new batch of honeycombs to replace the burnt ones.” They nod and trot off, swishing their grey and purple streaked tail cheerfully. I run after them, and we enter the forest again. I watch as a mouse skitters in front of me, notices me, and promptly sprints the other way. When we reach the clearing of the Shrouded Forest, Crystal trots over to their makeshift planning table, humming a quick tune. I head for the still-lit campfire, with the burning honeycombs sitting on top on a metal tray. Sighing, I sweep the charred hexagon-shapes off the fire. I unclip the bag from my neck and open it, sending everything clattering on the grass. Including the scroll. I shove it and the six gold pieces back into the bag and taking the honey and using the wood hollow half-circle thing I carved to set blobs of the honey onto the tray, setting it back onto the flame and using my claws to shape them into little honeycomb shapes. Send a message by eagle? I shake my head. He expects me to send a message to a total stranger? So what if I know his name!? I sit there, keeping a sharp eye on the honeycombs to make sure they don’t burn again. Nothing will distract me from perfecting this batch. I prod one with a claw, checking it to see if it’s hard. Not yet, but I should sugar them now. I sprinkle some of the sugar on each of them, and the crystals shimmer with the noon sun shining on them. I want a nice batch of chocolates ready for mother’s return, too. She could come back any day now. I check the honey again. Solid. I use my tail to nicely pull the hot tray off and set it gently on the grass to cool. Crystal walks over to me.
“Cooling them already?” They ask. I nod. “So, you REALLY don’t know why you smell like maple trees and freshly killed prey?” They demand. “No,” I lie. Please don’t smell my doubt, please, please, PLEASE don’t guess! I wrap my tail around my paws, keeping my gaze steady. Don’t look away, don’t give them any reason to think you’re lying! HOLY STARDUST, I HATE LYING! “Hm. Okay.” And they return to the maps. I let out a quiet relieved sigh. Let’s NEVER do that again. I turn back to the honeycombs and hover a paw over them. They’re still emanating heat. I walk over to my storage chest and open it, taking out a scrap of parchment and a well of ink. Fine, Shade. But only because I’m bored and waiting for them to cool. I dip a claw in the ink and start to write, being cautious not to rip the paper. “Shade, Fine, you win. But don’t think I’ll trust you just because I know your name. You’re still a stranger, and I’m only writing this because I’m waiting for my honeycombs to cool. So if you want me to trust you at ALL, I have to know more about you. - Diamond.” I roll up the parchment, check the honeycombs again, and glance over at Crystal. They’re absorbed in the maps again. I slink off into the fog-surrounded trees, trotting a ways away from the clearing before howling for an eagle. An eagle soars over the forest and dives through the trees towards me. She lands on my purple back, her talons digging into my thick fur. “Hello,” I greet her. She squawks and nips my ear. “Hey!” I protest, giggling. I hand her the scroll. She takes it in her beak and nips me again. “Shade,” I tell her. “In a hidden forest next to Malakar’s Fang.” She squawks again, but her voice is muffled by the parchment, and she spreads her giant wings, taking off into the sky. She’ll be able to find it. Malakar’s Fang is the BIGGEST mountain range! And I mean BIGGER THAN A DRAGON BIG. And dragons are pretty big. I think the tallest mountain in the range reaches the clouds. I head back over to the clearing, where Crystal has stolen my inkwell and is making notes on the maps. I hover a paw over the honeycombs. They’ve cooled. I pluck one off the tray and pop it in my mouth. It disintegrates immediately, coating my tongue in sweet honey. “Find any interesting birds out there? Or just dodging chores?” Crystal asks, not looking up from the maps. I freeze. “Oh, uh, just sending a message to… someone I met in Peace.” I reply. It’s not a lie, I’m just not telling them who it is! They turn around. “Oh, really?” They ask. “That’s new. Usually you just keep your head down and ignore everyone. What changed?” I put another honeycomb in my mouth. “I kind of… bumped into him. Literally.” I tell them. They snort. “That’s how most encounters go. I won’t ask who. You’re an adult now, you can make your own choices. But I am glad you’re being more social.” They say. “Well, I didn’t really choose to meet him.” I mutter. “Even so, you’re choosing to send him a message.” They reply. “Why do we live isolated, anyway?” I ask.
