“Tell me a story, Papa!”

    Jorah chuckled as he picked up his little girl and set her on his knee.

    “Isn’t it time for little ‘uns to be asleep?” he asked, bouncing her up and down.

    “But I’ll go a-sleep after a story! Promise!” she said as she snuggled into her papa’s shoulder. Jorah smiled at her and stroked his beard as he stared into the hearth, searching his brain for a good story to put his little girl to sleep. He listened to the sounds of the oncoming evening; chickens softly clucking outside, and the hearty crackle of the fire as Shava, his wife, tossed another log onto the fire. The glow from the hearth lit up her face and added a red-gold glow to her long chestnut hair. Still as beautiful as the day I met her, Jorah thought with a loving smile. Faint lines had begun to appear on her face over the past few years, but in his eyes, she was still the same young, beautiful woman. He looked back down to the little one nestled on his lap, her little face upturned and staring into his expectantly. A perfect night.

    “All right, but just one story. After that, it’s straight to bed with you!” He said, trying his best to look stern. The little girl grinned as Jorah leaned back into his armchair, its cushions indented from years of use. He paused a moment to gather his thoughts, and then began his story.

    “At the beginning, when the world was still the dream of a dream in the head of the Great God, the world was dark, and filled with chaos. The Great God looked down into the chaos, and in it, he saw all of the potential it held. So, he came down upon the world, and began to work to bring it into order.

    “First, he breathed air over the world, and his breath formed different birds and flying creatures to live in the skies – everything from the dragons to the songbirds and the smaller flying creatures. Then, he reached into the earth and began to shape the beasts that walk and crawl over the land. As he worked, he waded into the ocean, and his presence called forth all manner of creatures from the deep. The world was wild and brimming with life, then, and the Great God was happy with the world he had made. Time passed, and the world began to grow and change. There came to be one creature who rose up above all the others. The humans – us – had held on to more of the world’s original chaos than any other species, and used it to fuel their imagination and ingenuity. They continued to develop, and advanced far beyond any of the other creatures. But the chaos within them made them unruly, violent, and unpredictable, and they fought with each other, and with the other creatures. So great was their unruliness that the Great God could not watch them and govern the rest of the world at the same time, so he decided to create four gods and four goddesses to watch over them.

    “The first thing that the Great God did was soar down among the creatures of the sky. He flew among his many creations until he came upon Ardak, the dragon. Back then, dragons were much smaller, flying lizards, and Ardak was no different. Yet he had great strength and a very sharp mind. So, the Great God decided to gift him with a little bit of himself, and he became the god of the Sky. When Ardak received that piece of the Great God’s soul, he grew in size, and the flap of his wings created the thunder, and the flash of his magnificent scales the lightning, and he soared over the world, keeping his keen gaze on the humans below.

    “The Great God continued his flight until dusk began to fall. Soon, tiny furred creatures began to emerge from the caverns below. Curious, he swooped down to watch as the bats, for that was what they were, began their nightly hunt. Elegant and nimble, the little hunters darted through the air on silent leathery wings, hunting down their insect prey with grace and deadly precision. It so impressed the God that he sought out the greatest among them, a male named Vespa, to become the god of the Hunt, and keep watch over the humans in their quest for food.

    “He then grew tired of flying, and walked among the beasts of the earth. Soon, he stumbled upon the den where Goretooth, a mighty boar, lived. Goretooth was enraged at the Great God’s intrusion into her home, and charged at him fearlessly. At first, he was angry at the boar’s insolence, and was about to punish her, but her bravery and tenacity stirred up memories of his chaotic human race. Instead of punishing her, the Great God breathed a piece of himself into the boar, and Goretooth became the goddess of Battle, so that she may inspire the human warriors with her strength and courage.

    “Parting with Goretooth, the Great God left her craggy home and began to walk towards the woods. On his way, he came across a beaver pond, where a family was working together to build their lodge. He stepped down into the pond and swam with them, marveling at how strong and secure their home was. Before he left, he granted Laz, the male of the family, a piece of himself, naming him the God of protection and the home, and gave him the responsibility of watching over the humans and teaching them how to band together and work together to keep each other and their young safe.

    “By this time, the Great God was beginning to grow weary from his travels on the earth. He came to a cool, shady forest, and rested under a large oak tree. There was a beehive up in its branches, and the bees came down to investigate this newcomer to their woods. Seeing that it was their great creator, they generously gave the God some of their precious honey, to refresh himself. Touched by their generosity and the delightful sweetness of their gift, he shrunk down to follow them into the hive, to meet Miska, their queen. There, he found her dutifully and selflessly creating offspring for her hive. The Great God decided to name Miska the goddess of love and fertility. He breathed a piece of his soul into her, and bade her to teach the humans the sweetness of love.

    “So touched was the Great God after his encounter with the bees that, once he left their hive, he kissed the tree their hive was built in. To his surprise, his kiss brought the tree to life and a strong and beautiful woman, her body covered in bark, and leaves cascading from the crown of her hair down her back. The Great God named her Dryad, and she became the Goddess of the earth and all growing things.

    “The God then continued his journey, this time coming to the end of the earth, where the sea crashes along its sandy shore. He waded into the seas’ foamy waters, and swam among the strange and wonderful creatures who live beneath the waves. It wasn’t long until the God, still tired from his long journey, began to have difficulty swimming. Tetsu, a great sea turtle, approached him then, and offered the Great God a ride to shore on his large, leathery shell. In return for Tetsu’s aid, he gave the god a piece of his soul, and named him the God of all the Seas, to watch over and protect the humans on the water.

    “Now, the Great God had walked across all the earth, and given his soul to seven different creatures. He had become old and tired, and had very little life left. The time of his passing was drawing near. Just then, he met Yix. Yix was a hyena, and greeted the dying God with an eerie, shuddering laugh as she approached. As she came near, the God could see that the creature was near death herself, with her ribs and hip bones showing through her dark, patchy fur. Yix eyed the Great God hungrily and she stood before him. He reached out to her and rested his hand on her gaunt chest, and discovered, to his surprise, that she was with child. With most of his strength spent, the Great God laid down before the hyena, offering her his life so that she and her kit may survive. She killed the Great God and feasted on the last remaining piece of his soul, and in doing so, became the dark, shadowy goddess of Life and Death, in charge of protecting the balance of the world.”

    Jorah paused his narration as a soft snore emanated from his lap. Looking down, he noticed that his daughter was fast asleep. Gently, so as not to wake her, he picked her up and carried her over to her bed. He softly laid her down on her soft, straw mattress and tucked her blankets under her chin. She mumbled in her sleep as he kissed her on the forehead before walking to their small cottage’s window. He looked out into the darkness, thankful of the warm, protective fire at his back.

    “But the gods did not watch over the world as the Great God intended,” he whispered to himself, “and soon, they left the world, forsaking the humans and all of the life on our earth. That’s when the fog rolled in, and covered everything in its toxic shroud.” Though he couldn’t see it through the dark, he knew the miasma was there, waiting on the outskirts of their little farm, held at bay by the warm, crackling fire. He walked over, and added another drop of fogsbane oil to the wood in the hearth, causing the flames to burn with a faint blue-green hue, and whispered a prayer to the gods that had forsaken them.

    “If you still care about us out there, bless this home, and keep my family safe. May our fire never die.” 

    The fog pressed in close around her as the flame of her lantern began to dim. Her heart was pounding so hard that she could feel her blood coursing through her body as she strained her ears, listening for her pursuer. The rustling, thumping noise seemed to be coming from all around her. She began to run, dodging the trees in front of her as they loomed out of the haze. The noises kept getting louder, closer. She could hear it breathing now, the click of its teeth as it snapped its jaws. Terror kept driving her to run faster as the protective light surrounding her dimmed. Just as her lantern was about to go out, the thing lunged out of the fog. Large snapping teeth in slavering jaws, twisted, inhuman limbs. Then the light went out. 

    Tersa woke with a start to the sound of barn doors creaking open, every nerve on fire. She instinctively rolled off the hay bale she was sleeping on and crouched behind it, watching as an old man walked in and sleepily shuffled towards the goats. He yawned and scratched at his thin, graying hair as he crossed the barn floor. Just the farmer. She let out a deep breath, waiting for her heart to stop its mad gallop in her chest. As her breathing steadied again, she squinted through the partially open barn door to see pale sunlight casting long shadows. The farm's rooster crowed from somewhere outside, heralding in the day. She stifled a yawn as she turned her attention back to the farmer. He had pulled up a stool and was preoccupied with milking the goat, his back to the door. Good. Quietly as she could, Tersa crept behind the hay bales, inching towards the door. She paused for a moment as she reached the end of the bales, watching him to make sure he had not seen her. She smiled when she saw he was still hunched over the milk bucket, focused on his chores. Thank the Lost Gods he's old, she thought to herself, and darted across to the door. She carefully squeezed through the doors without causing them to squeak. Silently, she thanked her underfed and lean physique as she made her way around the barn to the chicken coop. Edging her way along the shadowy side of the barn, she strained her ears for any signs of other helpers milling about. All she could hear was the faint clang of the goat's bell from inside, and the soft clucking from the coop up ahead. She could see the coop now; it was a boxy, wooden construction surrounded by a low fence. The side of the coop had a hole, so that the chickens could come and go throughout the day. It was still closed, which meant no one had come to collect the eggs. Yet. Quick as she could, Tersa hopped the low wooden fence and lifted the latch of the coop, closing it behind her so none of the chickens would get out and give her away. Her eyes watered as the stench of a dozen chickens in a small, cozy coop assailed her nostrils. She held her sleeve over her nose, trying hard not to gag at the overpowering stench. 

    "Forgot how bad chickens smell," she muttered to herself as she went about her task. She started checking the nests, wincing as her hands received multiple pecks and scratches for her efforts. But soon, she had her prize: half a dozen fresh farm eggs. She grinned behind her sleeve as unslung her backpack and began stuffing them in, careful to keep them nestled on her spare tunic. Once they were all safely tucked away, she wiped her hands on her breeches and slipped back out of the coop, carefully lowering the latch over the door again as she went. She had just finished latching the coop when she heard the creaky barn door. Looks like he's done with the goats, she thought. She ran back to the shadowed side of the barn and peered around the corner. She could see his shadow on the lawn as he closed the barn doors, and began to round the corner, the shadow getting closer as he walked towards the chicken coop. Tersa stole around to the opposite side of the barn so she wouldn't be seen, and started her way back towards the edge of the farm. She paused as she rounded the corner; on this side of the barn, there was a rack of assorted farming equipment. She scanned the assorted tools, her eyes gleaming. The metal on the tools and equipment leaning against the side of the barn would be worth a fortune. She walked along the rack, admiring the old but well cared for tools until she found an old wood cutting ax and a coil of rope. She looped the rope over her shoulder and tucked the ax into her belt, feeling a twinge of guilt as she did. She thought about putting the ax back, but she pushed the feeling aside firmly. I need it more than he does, she told herself before continuing to the main road, ducking behind buildings as she went. 

    It didn't take her long to get to the edge of the farm. The fog swirled around its edges and up over the whole acreage. The fire - presumably in their main house at the center of their property - kept the toxic fog at bay, creating a dome of fresh air. Ducking behind a rocky outcropping, she pulled out an old, weather-stained map and a stub of charcoal. She quickly scratched off the town and took a moment to check her location. The nearest town was due west of her. All the homesteads east of her had been scratched off with smudgy charcoal smears.

    "Guess he's not here, either." She folded the map back up with a sigh and put it and the charcoal away. She rummaged around in her pack and pulled out a little tin lantern and a sparker. She hunched over it as she lit the wick to keep the faint breeze from snuffing it out. Once it was lit, she gingerly pulled a small glass vial and a dropper from her belt pouch. She held it up to the hazy sunlight, and frowned. Only a quarter bottle left, she thought, I need to get to town before dark tonight. Carefully, she used the dropper to put a tiny amount of the precious fogsbane oil into the fire of her lantern. The flame began to glow a familiar, comforting sea blue. She tucked the vial away, then closed her lantern and hung it from the special hook on the outside of the pack. She crawled to the edge of the outcropping and looked back over to the barn. The farmer was nowhere to be seen. She jogged to the edge of the property, stopping at the wall of fog to take one last look behind her. 

    "Thanks for everything," she said as she walked into the fog and disappeared from view. 

    The gravel crunched dully under her old doeskin boots as she walked. It was a pleasant day despite the ever-present haze, and the sun was fighting its way through to give the air a warm, golden glow. The warmth in the air told her that summer would be upon them soon, and she wished she had something to pin back her long brown hair to cool off the back of her neck. She wiped a few strands out of her eyes as she walked, picking out stray pieces of hay from her night in the barn. Several birds chirped and croaked at her as she walked along the road, their sounds muted by the heavy atmosphere. If she kept a steady pace, she should reach the town by midday. Maybe he will be there, she thought as she walked.  At the very least, she needed to stock up on supplies. It had been weeks since she had been to a town, and there were only so many supplies you could swipe from farms. Plus, she stank. A proper bed and a hot bath would not be unwelcome. As she walked, she glanced down at her clothes. Her old blue tunic was faded, ripped, and muddy, and she didn't have to look at the spare one in her pack to know that it fared no better. Her breeches, which were once fresh, un-dyed linen were now a camouflage of browns and greens, with feathers and fresh chicken grime from where she wiped her hands earlier. Thankfully her boots, though old, were still in one piece. 

    She walked for several hours before sitting on the side of the road to take a break. Her back was already drenched with sweat beneath her pack as the warm morning turned into an oppressive and humid afternoon. Her stomach growled with hunger as she checked on her lantern as she pulled off her pack, making sure that the flame was still blue and that it had enough fuel. If her light went out, it would be mere minutes before the fog burned her skin and lungs, driving her mad and turning her into something unnameable. Gods know that she wouldn't be the first one to have her light go out. Satisfied with its steady glow she opened her pack, carefully pulling out two of her hard earned eggs. "I wish I had a way to cook them," she muttered as she eyed them up. With a sigh, she cracked the shells and drank the contents raw, grimacing as they oozed down her throat. A proper, cooked meal won't go amiss either, she thought as she gagged, but at least it will keep me going. She took out her waterskin and washed down her breakfast with a few large gulps, then sat back to take a look at her surroundings. It was always hard to see anything through the miasma, but she could faintly make out the line of trees a few feet away from her. The side of the road was rocky, with tufts of grass sticking out between its craggy surface, like thinning hair on an old, balding head. Small red and sickly yellow flowers bloomed here and there, reaching up to capture what little sunlight could be gathered through the heavy air. Fat honeybees droned around the flowers on their tiny whirring wings, drunk on nectar and lazy from the humidity of the afternoon.

    Tersa wiped the sweat from the back of her neck and hitched up her pack as she continued walking. By now, she was getting close to town, and the road was getting busier. Several times she had to move to the edge of the road to make way for groups of people, and large wooden carts pulled by oxen or a pair of goats. She watched them come and go, their little blue lights flickering and bobbing through the fog as the passed her to fade away into the mist again. Soon the path widened out and she was swept along with the steady stream of people making their way into town. The sun was just beginning to set by the time the wooden walls of the town appeared out of the haze. Its large gates were open, and two men with lanterns on tall poles were watching the entrance. Tersa blew out her lantern as she walked between them and into the fresh air of the town. Despite the size of [town's name], she could see a faint blueish glow from the center of town where the fire burned. Every town and city had one at its center, burning a steady blue-green with fogsbane oil to keep the miasma and the monsters away and the villagers safe. [town name], like every other town, was built in a circle around the central fire. She passed by the slums hugging the inside of the wall and entered into the main market. It was fairly busy for a small village, with people bustling around and stalls all over the main square, hawking their wares and shouting over the crowd. 

    "Fine linen dresses!"

    "Lanterns and sparkers for sale! Don' leave home without 'em!"

    "Fresh breads and pies!"

    "Get your steel and iron here!"

Tersa wandered through the crowd, taking in the sights and smells. It had been weeks since she had seen so many people in one place, and a wall of sounds and smells assailed her senses as she moved further in. She took a deep breath. The town's air was perfumed with the smell of fresh baked bread, sweaty leather, musky perfumes, and the ever-present smoky smell of the fire. Many merchants had little wooden stalls set up all over the large square. Carts rattled over cobblestones as people bustled around. She eyed up various stalls as she walked through. She passed by stalls selling milk and eggs, bread and baked delicacies. One woman was selling perfumes and an assortment of necklaces and trinkets. She paused at her stall, but kept moving when the woman wrinkled her nose and shot her dirty looks over her delicate lace fan. She continued on until she found a gentleman selling lanterns. He was a round, middle-aged man, with a rosy face and short, pudgy fingers. He eyed her up disdainfully as she approached.

    "You must not get a lot of business if you glare at them like that all the time. You sell fogsbane?" she asked him, running her fingers over an ornate blown glass lantern and pointedly ignoring the scowl he gave her. He ran a pudgy hand over his bald head. 

    "We have some, but it ain't cheap," he replied, "the Harvesters didn't have much luck last full moon, and two of 'em never came back. Them attacks have been gettin' worse, you know." She nodded. Only fools and Harvesters were out in the fog at night. 

    "How much for the oil?" 

    "Eight gold pieces per vial."

    "That's criminal! Five."

    "Seven."

    "Six and ten coppers."

    "Done." They shook hands, and he passed her a small glass vial of the precious oil. She handed him the coins as she tucked the vial into her belt pouch and continued on her way. 

    Tersa continued to mill around in the crowd, watching as people went about their business. After weeks on the road, she was content to mill around and people watch for a while. Compared to the hazy, monochromatic world outside of [town's name]'s walls, the town was crisp and awash with colour. Women bustled by in dresses of reds, blues, pinks, and greens. Men in worn traveling clothes mingled with gentleman in fine coats and top hats. Children wove through the crowd, begging their parents for sweets as they passed by the baker's cart. She stopped walking as she passed by a row of Scrapper tables. The Scrappers were leaning against their booths, chatting with each other and calling out to the people passing by. They were an odd, colourful bunch; their clothes were a strange mix of finery and travel-worn and patched up garments. One Scrapper near her was wearing a tailcoat that had clearly seen better days and was now covered in a myriad of bright patches. Metal glinted off the brass buttons of the waistcoat, as well as from various metal trinkets around his neck and wrists. A bowler sat at a jaunty angle on his head, just as patched and dirty as his coat. He winked at her as she walked up to admire his booth. It was covered in an assortment of dented and rusty treasure, scavenged from the old ruins in the fog. The man in the patched coat winked at her as she walked up.

    "See anything you like, missie?" he asked. She smiled politely as she shook her head.

    "Sorry, not this time." she said, but she continued to eye up the table. 

    "Are you sure? I could trade you for that ax you have there." Tersa's hand moved to her hip and she chewed her lip thoughtfully as she eyed up his wares. Many of the pieces were strange, fantastical objects.

    "I'm good, thanks," she replied, and walked towards the other Scrapper tables before he could say anything else. On other tables, there were a wide assortment of partially rusted shovel-heads, metal wheels, and daggers. One Scrapper was trying to sell what looked like an arm made of copper. She walked past the remainder of the tables gingerly running her fingers over one of the daggers. The blade was only notched in one or two places. The wooden handle had all but rotted away, but that was easily fixed. A piece like that would cost her a small fortune. She considered trading in the ax for it and a few other pieces, but she pulled herself away. She didn't feel right about trading away the farmer's old ax. Once again, she felt a little bit guilty about swiping it. It had probably been in his family for generations, and it would cost him and his family a small fortune to replace. Metal tools like this were worth their weight in fogsbane oil. 

    She finished her walk around the market and was about to begin searching for the inn when a commotion at the far end of the square caught her attention. An unearthly cry cut through the air as people began to scream. People pushed past her in an effort to get away from the far side of the market. Then she caught sight of it. Though it was probably a normal human at one time, there was nothing human about it now. Large faceted eyes bulged out of its head as it attempted to fly on grotesque, leathery wings. The fresh air was already searing its flesh, causing it to smolder and shriek in agony. Its arms - too long for its body and twisted at an unnatural angle, scrabbled at the cobblestones as it lunged at the crowd. It snapped its jaws, frothing and oozing at the mouth. Her body began to shake as she watched it come closer. 

    It's not supposed to be here! It can't be here. Not again. Not ever again. This isn't real. The panic threatened to consume her. Her throat felt tight, she couldn't breathe. The thing kept getting closer.  Darkness, jaws snapping, the blood, oh gods the blood... 

    "Get out of the WAY!" someone bellowed at her, but her feet still felt rooted to the spot. Swearing, the stranger grabbed her by the arm and yanked her backwards. She snapped out of it just in time to dodge out of the smoldering beast's path. It thrashed around, trying to get a few feet further, then collapsed, jaws still opening and closing as it died, the clean air burning through its lungs and flesh. Slowly, people began to edge closer again, covering their noses against the sickly smell of its burnt corpse. The man holding onto her arm whirled her around so that they were face-to-face. 

    "What in Ardak's name were you thinking, just standing there like that?" He demanded, his dark eyebrows knitted together into a scowl. 

    "I-I didn't mean- I couldn't..." Tersa fought to get herself under control, but her body was still shaking uncontrollably. The man's face softened a little. 

    "It's alright, miss. It's gone now. You're all right." Tersa nodded stiffly as she struggled to calm herself down. She reached up to wipe her hair out of her face, her hands still visibly shaking. 

    "S-sorry. Sorry. I'm all right now. Just was a bit of a shock to see one of those here." She eased her arm out of the man's grip and forced a smile. "Thank you for pulling me out of the way." The man nodded. He was fairly tall, his pale face framed by dark hair which just brushed the top of his shoulders. 

    "Just glad you're alright. I'm Arum," he said, holding out his hand. Tersa clasped it with hers. 

    "Tersa. I'm just passing through here, to get supplies." Arum paused, looking her over. 

    "Well you definitely look like a traveler," he said skeptically. "but shouldn't a traveler like yourself be, you know, a little more used to those things? I mean sure, it's crazy to see one in town, but I'm sure it's not the fist time you've seen the beasties." he waved at the corpse on the ground. Tersa looked over, and suppressed the urge to vomit at the sight of its burned, twisted remains.

    "It just surprised me," she snapped. Stiffly, she readjusted her pack and turned to leave. "Excuse me, but I have to go find the inn now." She turned around and began to march away. 

    "Hey, wait!" he called as he ran to catch up with her. 

    "What do you want?" she snapped, whirling back around. 

    "Well first off," he replied with a shrug, "the Thirsty Dragon Inn's not that way. I can show you where it is, if you want." She raised an eyebrow and looked him over. Despite being tall, he looked harmless enough. He was muscular, but fairly lean, with honest-looking brown eyes. She took a few moments to size him up, hand resting on the woodaxe in her belt. 

    "Fine, lead the way" she finally replied. He gave a small smile before turning and walking the opposite direction. 

    "It's not far," he called over his shoulder to her, not waiting to see if she was following, "the Thirsty Dragon has a bathhouse too. No offense meant, but you could use it."

    The Thirsty Dragon was a small, cozy little inn and tavern. As Tersa and Arum walked up, the street lamps were being lit. They illuminated the inn's sign - a small winged lizard draped over the side of a wooden mug. 

    "I know it doesn't look much, but it's the best inn in the area," Arum said. Tersa smiled gratefully. 

    "It sounds great. Thanks for all your help." Arum shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. 

    "Well, you looked like you needed a bit of help today," he said, "And I was headed here anyways to meet a friend. So it wasn't really all that much out of my way." Tersa arched an eyebrow at him. 

    "Well, thanks for that extensive display of chivalry," she said sarcastically. He gave her a lopsided smirk.

    "And thank you for that lovely display of polite, feminine grace," he shot back. With an elaborate bow, he walked by her and entered into the tavern. Shooting a dirty look at his retreating back, she walked over to the desk to her left. An old woman was sitting there, mending what looked like an old pair of trousers. 

    "I'd like a room please. And a bath and a meal." The lady looked up at her over her thick crystal spectacles. 

    "That will be twenty silvers. I'll have a meal sent to your room after you're done in the bath." Tersa mumbled her thanks as the lady handed her a room key, and headed straight for the bath at the back of the inn. 

    Tersa eased into the women's bath with a groan. The hot water felt good on her aching bones, and all the anxiety from her experience in town square melted away with the lightly perfumed water. The bath itself was small and rustic, but to Tersa's exhausted body, it felt like paradise. She scrubbed herself down with the rough bar of soap the inn provided, letting all the grime from the past three weeks rinse off of her body. Once she was clean, she quickly washed her tunics and breeches, watching the mud swirl away. Since she had the bath all to herself, she took a moment to lean back and soak in the steamy waters. It felt good to smell like lavender instead of barn and chicken coop for a change. Finally, reluctantly, she eased out of the bath, wringing out her clothes and toweling off her skin and hair. Her wet clothes felt clammy on her skin, but at least they were clean. 

    True to the innkeeper's word, a hot meal was waiting in her room when she arrived. It was simple fare of potatoes and goat. Steam was still rising from the plate. Tersa wolfed it down in record time, washing everything down with water from the pitcher in her room. Leaning back in her chair, she gave a contented sigh. My stomach hasn't felt full in weeks, she thought, thank Laz for good inns. She plopped herself down on the bed and took out sewing kit and her second tunic, which was still wet from washing, and began to mend the seams that were coming undone. As she stitched, she let her mind wander. She had used up the last of her money on oil and the inn; soon, she would have to start thinking of ways to get more. She was short on food, but the rest of her supplies would last her for a little while. She could make do with scavenging from farms now and again, but it wouldn't sustain her forever. Getting a job and settling down wasn't an option, though. I'll never find them if I stay in one place, she thought grimly. As she thought, her needle slipped, stabbing into her thumb. She jerked her hand backward with a hiss of pain, watching as a red bead of blood welled up and tricked down towards her wrist. Blood everywhere, and the screaming, oh gods, please make it stop- Quickly she stuck her thumb in her mouth, trying to ignore the visions in her head. 

    "They're getting worse again," she said to herself as she stared down at her sewing. She continued working on her mending until her eyes became heavy and her vision too blurry to continue. With a sigh, she crawled under the covers of her bed and blew out the candle.

*   ~   *   ~   *

    Arum wove his way through the tavern until he found his friend seated at the table in the back corner. He had the hood of his cloak pulled back, revealing golden hair and piercing blue eyes. His beard helped disguise the hollowness of his cheeks. He gave Arum a curt nod as he sat down. 

    "You're late," he said flatly. "I took the liberty of buying a drink already."

    "I was delayed," Arum replied, "there was a monster in town square." His friend leaned forward, suddenly interested. 

    "But they never come into town. I mean, you always hear rumors, but I've never heard anything other than that. What happened?" 

    "I'm not sure. One minute everything was fine, and the next, it was screaming and burning in town square. And in the middle of the day, too." Arum waved the barkeep over to order a beer. Once he left, he continued: "You gotta help me figure this out, Myn. It's getting worse. I'm not even safe in town anymore, let alone on the road." Myn leaned back again, scratching at his beard. 

    "Not sure what to tell you, Arum. I've never known anyone to be in a situation like yours. Still, it's interesting that they keep coming after you. I wonder how they can track you like this. You know, I bet the Academy would love to have a chance to study you." Arum slammed his hand down on the table, making Myn jump. 

    "I am not some experiment. Not to you, or anyone. Do you understand me?" he hissed. Myn raised his hands defensively. 

    "That's not what I meant, old friend," he said soothingly, "I don't know a way out of your mess any more than you do. Did anyone notice you there?" Arum took a swig of his beer before answering. 

    "One person did. A girl. Walked her to the inn, funny enough. Gods, she looked like she's been on the road for months." 

    "Did she notice anything about you?" Myn asked seriously. Arum shook her head.  

    "No. She seemed pretty shaken up by the monster. Don't think she noticed much of anything else."

    "Good." Myn took a sip from his own tankard. Arum began to shuffle impatiently. 

    "Now, can we get on with business? You know I don't like doing this so out in the open." Myn waved his hand, brushing him off. 

    "Relax, old friend. You're always too tense about this sort of thing."

    "With good reason. You know how much our corpses would be worth if people found out?" Myn shrugged and took a deep draught of his beer. 

    "Just hand over the goods, Arum.". Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, Arum pulled out his pack and pushed it across the table. Myn snatched it up and inspected its contents. He reached in and pulled out a swollen goat bladder, its exterior sealed with wax. 

    "Make sure the wax doesn't break," Arum warned him. 

    "Only three this time?" Myn asked, rifling through the pack. Arum nodded. 

    "Would have been more, but I stumbled across quite the find. We Scrappers still have to make a living, you know." Myn barked out a laugh. 

    "Like hell you do! Yix's fangs, Arum. You could live like a king with what you've made from your finds." 

    "Call it a gift," Arum replied, his mouth twisting into a smirk. Myn shrugged.

    "Well, the gas you deliver does get the best... results. Not the best haul, but the Academy will be pleased to get their hands on this. Not to mention the price they'll be willing to pay," he chuckled. "Perhaps I can even raise the price since it's in short supply." Arum nodded politely. 

    "Glad to be of service. Now, if you could hand over what you owe me, I'll be on my way." Arum began to put on his coat when Myn grabbed his arm, pulling him back into his seat. Leaning over the table, he studied him with his sharp blue eyes.

    "You're holding out on me, old friend. Come on, now. You must have more for me than three measly bladders of gas. You never come back with so little." Reluctantly, Arum reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, metal box and a leather pouch. 

    "Here." Myn grabbed the pouch first. Looking inside, he gave a low whistle. 

    "That's more like it," he said. He reached into the pouch and pulled out a small, white orchid. The leaves and petals had already begun to wilt. 

    "Put it away, Myn," Arum snapped, looking around the tavern, "Do you want to get jumped? You know almost everyone in here would gladly give their right arm for some fogsbane." Myn tucked the flower away and added it to the pack with the goat bladders. "Besides, it's the other thing that the Academy will be more interested in." Myn peered into the box. His nose wrinkled in distaste, but a wide grin spread across his face. 

    "You never disappoint," he chuckled, "Some days, I think the gods are watching over you." Arum snorted. 

    "If they are, they have a sick sense of humor." Myn laughed as he counted out coins into a purse and tossed it across the table.

    "Here ye go, you gifted bastard. I expect to see you next month, after the next full moon?" Arum nodded. Myn waited patiently as he counted out the change before pocketing the purse with a satisfied nod. Then, downing the last dregs from his tankard, he got up and excused himself.

    "Always a pleasure," he said heading up to his room.

    Once he had locked his door behind him, he flopped onto the bed with a satisfied grin. Today's exchange had been even more profitable than he had hoped. Tomorrow, he would go back down to the market for supplies, and be on his way. The less time he spent here, the better. Especially after the incident in the market. 

    "They're getting braver," he said to himself, "Or, they're getting a lot more stupid." The smile on his face faded. Absentmindedly, he reached up and pulled out the amulet he wore around his neck, He ran his thumb across the strange glyphs that circled the metal tube - the thing was so old that the glyphs were starting to rub out. He had worn the amulet ever since he found it on one of his scrapping endeavors. The place had been a veritable goldmine, and since then, he had been frequenting it for years, finding all sorts of rare and fantastical goods. He turned the amulet over and over in his fingers, listening to the familiar clack, clack, clack as whatever-it-was that was inside of it slid around. He had tried to open it on several occasions, but with any luck. As he ran it between his fingers he thought back on the day's events. The fog spawn had never been so bold as to follow him into town before, and definitely not in the middle of the afternoon. It was worrisome. This is going to be bad for business. He had begun to notice the increase in attacks two months ago, during a visit to his favourite scrapping site. Since then, the attacks had gotten more and more frequent, and in larger numbers. Last month, they had begun to attack during the day, too. And now this. He had heard the fog spawn as he walked into town, but never in a thousand Ages did he think one would be so bold as to run into town. It was suicide, as the beast had proven this afternoon. He sighed. Might be time to find a new market, he thought glumly. He had spent close to a year building up a reputation in [town's name]. Still, finding new clients would be better than finding himself dead. With a groan, he stripped down to his breeches and blew out the candle. 

    "Guess I have my work cut out for me tomorrow," He mumbled as he drifted off to sleep.