Jet had decided nothing could be worse than the inside of a human’s rucksack. He was almost eager to meet this dreaded “Merchant” character at this point, if only for the agony end. Hours of being rocked back and forth as the humans walked, rather erratically in Jet’s opinion, had left Jet sickly and weak. He had already vomited twice, the second time thankfully producing only bile. The humans, now seeming to Jet to be very experienced in the art of kidnapping, had swaddled the cage in cloth to mute any sound he made. While may have protected their belongings, it left Jet trapped in a humid, swelteringly hot, enclosed space with his own vomit. The fumes, stench, and stuffiness worked together to leave the gnome feeling faint, the resulting torpor leaving the gnome in a near comatose state.
In this manner the minutes bled into hours beyond Jet’s notice, for time all but stood still in his limited perception. After a time, half the day at least, the suffering was temporarily brought to a halt by the portly human’s call to rest. It took some time for the giants to settle, however Jet could still discern the difference as the rhythmic clomping slowed and the direction of their movement changed. Finally the bag he resided in was set down, the top opened and the vomit covered parcel inside. The cloth wrap was removed gingerly, the human apparently none too thrilled at the prospect of handling the sodden material. Light flooded in, as well as fresh air, rejuvenating the wilting gnome even as he flinched away from the brightness.
Disgusted by the vomit, sweat, and filth, the portly human called to the skinny one. Dutifully the lankier of the two approached with a waterskin. He stood at as far a distance as he could, squeezing the skin and spraying water into the cage, trying to clean the cage and Jet both in one fell swoop. Thinking quickly, Jet turned his face upwards to drink as much of the water as he could, almost whimpering as the spray abated. Hanging the cage from a tree branch with roughspun thread, the pair trundled off to tend to their needs. His decision to drink the water they used to clean him was wise, as they made no move to provide for him as they ate their meager meals and sipped from their waterskins. Jet’s stomach howled at the mere sight of food, so he ignored it in favor of soothing himself with the feeling of the sun on his skin and wind in his hair.
It was all too soon the humans returned and wrapped the cloth, which had also been set out to dry, around the cage. The cloth, and Jet himself, were still damp, the leftover moisture making the humidity even more unbearable than before, carrying with it the acrid scent of vomit. Hardly enough time to brace himself, Jet was thrown to the floor as the horrid swaying motion began again. Jet, wanting nothing more than to take his mind off of his misery, listened in on the humans as they chattered back and forth. He kept his eyes half lidded and unseeing, as he knew fully closing them would only serve to make him more ill. As the humans spoke he painted each one in his mind’s eye.
“I can’t believe our luck. I was certain we were going home empty handed.” The skinny one spoke, Jet recreating him from memory and the sound of his voice which was reedy and thin. He was probably not so gawky and odd-looking in reality, but Jet’s ire at the lanky human meant he lent him an unfortunate aspect.
“I keep telling you Thom, the Merchant never steers us wrong!” The fat one blubbered, slimy words slithering past oily lips. Jet didn’t remember if he had flapping jowls, but decided to give them to his mental image all the same.
“I hope this critter is worth a good bit of Dust.” Thom said, an antsy tone rising in his voice. While Jet was uncertain of what this Dust substance was, it was all the same clear the skinny one yearned for it.
“You know he never lets us want for Faerie Dust. I’m sure the little one here will be worth a fair amount.” The fat man reassured, and Pug imagined he could hear the words blubbering past a mouth watering with want.
Jet lost track of the conversation at this, his joy at their mental caricatures fading as the misery reached its peak. Idly he remembered each of the fairies he knew and couldn’t say he remembered any of them being dusty, really. He thought for a moment they might have been grinding up fairies to get the dust, but quickly shot the idea down. The process would only net them fairy paste, if anything, and it wouldn’t be usable for much of anything beyond meat patties. Besides, he was a gnome! It wasn’t like they’d get any fairy-dust for grinding him up. Unless they were too dumb to realize he wasn’t a fairy at all, which he wouldn’t put past the oafish giants.
Jet heard little else of interest as the miles and hours crept past. Eventually a bit of excitement arose as his unwanted travel companions slowed. Jet harbored a small hope he’d be freed for another bit of fresh air, but the arrival of a third, hitherto unheard, voice made it clear this stop was different than the previous. A pang of fear rang through Jet as he worried they’d arrived at their destination, though a few moments of quiet listening dissuaded him of notion. The deference they showed to this third voice was mummery, nothing more than motions gone through to cover up their fear and caution as they endeavored to move past this obstacle.
Realizing this, Jet did his level best to attract the attention of this third voice. His cries for help, if they could truly be called cries, were weak and hushed as he was unable to draw up the energy he needed to alert this new voice to his presence. The air in the pack was hot and heavy, almost wet with humidity at this point. Before long his calls died down, frustrated tears making themselves known as warmth stole into his eyes. He pressed his hands into them, tears stymied as he bemoaned the cloth muted him and made this cage such a hell.
The third human finally allowed his captors to progress, muttering some vague dismissal at their backs as they scurried away. The heavyset one who carried the pack had somehow managed to hear Jet’s cries for help, for he jabbed his elbow into the side of the pack and knocked Jet prone. Fiercely desperate, Jet cried out one final time. For a few moments he thought no one heard, until a cry sounded out and brought his captors to a halt. The voice was higher in pitch, more delicate. Jet would wager it was a woman, if humans trended as gnomes did. He could feel Gregor fidgeting nervously as he panted on the floor of the cage. Approaching footsteps sent his heart soaring, and he heard the feminine voice speak again.
‘Stop there you two.” The voice said with notes of accusation. “I’d like to inspect your bag.”
“What seems to be the problem, Warden?” Gregor squeaked, voice trembling.
“I’m quite certain I heard a noise from your pack.”
“A noise? There’s nothing in any of our luggage that would make any noise.”
“I don’t need to search all of your luggage. I distinctly heard it from your pack there.” The woman’s voice was colored in shades of frustration, and in his mind’s eye he could imagine her pointing out the pack he was in. “Poaching is a rather serious offense.”
Jet wasn’t thrilled to be mistaken for an animal, but he’d be whatever he needed to be to get himself out of this situation. He tried to sound off again but his throat, sore and worn by vomiting and his initial cries when his captors had taken them, only allowed for the faintest rasping.
“Go ahead and set down your bag, then step away.” Her tone was one of finality, and brooked no argument.
The bag Jet was in shifted as it was unslung from Gregor’s shoulders. It swayed as it hung from the human’s hand, prompting another bout of nausea from the gnome. It seemed he didn’t want to set it down, but left with no other option he brought it slowly to the ground. Jet could hear the approach of booted feet on stone, and then a sudden shift and faint light as the mouth of the bag was opened. Hope soared until a voice in the distance screamed. The hands which had begun to grip the cloth swaddled cage withdrew as the woman’s attention was drawn elsewhere.
The guard moved away, unknowingly leaving Jet in peril as they tried to ascertain the source of the scream. Jet could hear a commotion kick up in the distance, in the same direction the scream had come from. To his horror and dismay, the woman searching the bag swore and darted away, her running footsteps pursuing the source of the disturbance. Seeing their opportunity, one of his captors scooped up the bag in an abrupt, rough motion and set to running. For a time all Jet could perceive was pounding footsteps and harsh breathing as he was slammed around in his cage, being roughly introduced to every sharp edge and hard corner.
So severe was the beating it seemed that Jet blacked out at some point, perhaps in a subconscious effort to spare himself more torment, for the next thing he knew they were stopped. The two humans -especially Gregor, he imagined- were breathing heavily. One of them knocked on something, presumably a door, and they waited for a few breathless moments before a creaking sound was heard and they were let inside. The humans were quiet still, catching their breath but doing little else as Jet massaged several spots on his body that were aching and bruised from being tossed about. All around them small sounds were being made, familiar to Jet somehow though he could place none of them. Without warning Jet was suddenly pulled from the pack and the cloth binding his cage was pulled away.
Spots bloomed across his vision, as he was blinded by spears of sunlight piercing the dim light of the indoors, Jet eagerly gulped up fresh lungfuls of air. Wiping at his eyes, he cleared them enough to look at his surroundings. As his vision cleared he was tempted to paw at his eyes again to clear them, disbelieving his own eyes. At least now he knew what had sounded so familiar to him, for on shelves and tables, hanging from the ceiling and crowding the dark nooks and crannies of the floor all around him were cages. Every cage he could see housed fellow creatures of myth and magic, some of them of races Jet was familiar with, many of them strange and foreign to him. Pixies and sprites, wisps and salamanders. A nebulous shadow bounced along the bars in one cage, and across and above it what looked for all the world like a transparent ball of jelly wobbled forlornly. All of it lit by shafts of sunlight cutting through grime-covered windows, small rectangular things set high in the walls as though to discourage outside observance of the room.
All of this was driven to the back of his mind as he regarded the man behind the counter, who watched him impassively as his cage was set on the countertop. Jet saw with the lower periphery of his vision as some unknown apparatus was withdrawn from beneath the counter. His curious nature yearned to investigate it, however he found his eyes fixated on the person before him, unable to look away. This man, who must be the one referred to by the humans as the Merchant, was strikingly handsome. Pale skin sat on high cheekbones, and wide gray eyes were framed by long lashes. His lips were perfectly formed, pale pink. Jet knew, though he knew not how he knew, any humanoid race, magical or mortal, would find the man striking. At the same time, Jet was terrified of him.
His eyes, at first seeming to be doe-like and clear, were lifeless and cold. His lips, shapely and smooth, looked cold, hard and artificial. He showed no teeth in his smile, and an irrational part of Jet feared the creature before him had a mouth full of fish hooks in place of any normal formation. As his pale, thin fingers reached out and touched the cage, a deeply rooted and animalistic instinct in Jet sent him scurrying as far as he could away from the man.
“My apologies, little one.” The ‘man’ said, saccharine sweet words underlined with a vague, lazy gesture to their surroundings. “Despite how long I’ve done this, I forget how easily disquieted your kind are.”
His words were clipped and perfectly enunciated. Jet felt as though the creature before him arrived at the words the same way you got the solution to an equation. You put together all the factors and variables, and you got an answer. In this way the smiling thing in front of Jet mimicked conversation, deducing what it needed to say without any interest in truly conversing. Jet’s panic was diffused as the humans, who had been forgotten up to now, spoke and split his attention, though his eyes never left the thing before him.
“What do you think sir? He was right where you said he was.” Gregor said eagerly. Jet was disgusted and amazed they were able to stand so calmly before the beast. Even Thom, the weaker willed of the two, was brandishing a wide smile.
“Of course he was.” The Merchant chuckled, dry and fake. “Though I am disappointed, there was supposed to be another, a female. Did she escape you?”
The two humans looked at each other confused but Jet felt his breath catch in his throat. Normally he’d have gone gathering samples with Tourmaline. How could he, this thing, even begin to suspect Tourmaline would be with him? Worry for his friend shot through him. Would they return for her as well?
“No sir, this one came out there alone.” Gregor said nervously, like a chastened child before his parents. The Merchant stared at him silently, the too-long silence causing a film of sweat to bead on Gregor’s upper lip, before remembering it was supposed to appear to be human. At least was how it looked to Jet, as the thing shook itself slightly before plastering on a smile.
“That’s alright, the sight isn’t always accurate. This one will suffice.” It assured them. “Now, onto the matter of your payment.”
The Merchant turned, rooting around in a cabinet as the two human’s eyes lit with a hellish sort of glee. Shortly the Merchant turned back around, a leather pouch stuffed near to bursting in each hand. Hunger reinforced and subsumed the glee, and Jet expected them to snatch the bags greedily as their bodies bent under the weight of their need. But they didn’t. Rather, Gregor swallowed deeply before speaking.
“Are you sure? That’s far more than usual.” He said, though his eyes ogled the pouches in a fashion could almost be described as lewd.
“Certainly. I prepared the reward for two specimens. In any case, I hope the bonus goes a long way towards consolidating our little arrangement here.” The Merchant said congenially, though Jet didn’t miss how his eyes glittered darkly.
Given permission, Thom and Gregor each darted forward and snatched the pouches away. While Gregor tucked his portion away into the same pack that had carried Jet here, Thom opened his pouch and reached inside. Jet was unable to see what was inside the pouch, but Thom withdrew his hand with his fingers pinched together. He tilted his head back and held his pinched fingers together above his face. He rubbed his finger and thumb against each other and a fine powder fell forth, as though he were spicing a meal. The powder fell onto his upturned face or, more accurately, into his open eyes. The last of the shimmering dust drifted onto his upturned eyes and Thom began to blink rapidly. Jet could see his eyes begin to dilate wildly until they seemed to be no more than twin pools of inky darkness, the pupils nearly eclipsing the iris. Not done yet, he stuck first his finger then his thumb into his mouth, by all appearances rubbing what vestiges remained on them into the soft flesh underneath his tongue.
“It’s good to see this batch is as much of a hit as the others.” The Merchant said dryly. Gregor gave Thom a scowl,nodding towards the Merchant when Thom couldn’t comprehend the root of his displeasure.
“Sorry sir, it’d been a bit for me. Sir” Thom said meekly. It looked like he tried to focus on the Merchant, but whatever he had just taken was working rapidly. A flush was entering his cheeks and a look of ecstasy stole across his face even as he struggled to fight it back.
“I’ll do my utmost to reach out before you get desperate again. Until then, however, you two should go home and enjoy yourselves. I need to get my new guest settled in.” The pale imitation of a smile was turned upon Jet once again.
As the thing spoke it stepped around the counter and began to usher the two humans out the door. Gregor was quick to comply, though Thom dawdled and gazed emptily into the distance, occasionally focusing on invisible points near to him before relaxing into the middle distance again. Gregor was forced to grab Thom by his arm and haul him bodily out of the building, the taller man hardly seeming to notice or care. The front door opened to dimming sunlight, Greg heaving his companion out onto the dirt outside where he fell sprawling. The last Jet saw of the two was Gregor helping his partner up with a look of frustration writ clearly on his face. Jet disliked the two humans and resented them for their trickery, but he could honestly say he was sad to see them go. He didn’t want to be left alone with the Merchant.
Speaking of, his new captor went about bolting the door to the building shut now the two humans were outside. He flipped several locks on the door, and even dropped a bar in place to hold it closed, much like you’d see on big castle doors in picture books and fairy tales. Satisfied, the Merchant began to relax as he walked back to Jet, prompting the gnome to crawl back and press himself into the furthest reaches of the cage. For as the thing relaxed, it began to change.
Like a fat man letting out his belly at the end of the day, the flesh on the Merchant began to droop and sag. It peeled away from the underlying bones and hung loosely. In some places the bones also sagged low, with sickening pops and muted crunches as they worked themselves free. It was especially evident in his cheekbones and his jaw, which flopped lopsidedly, hanging open with the tongue lolling out slightly. The left eye went lazy, rolling down and in. The right arm seemed to grow in length as well, giving the creature a gruesome aspect. As it reached the counter the changes seemed to stop, though did little to assuage Jet, who whimpered in fear, though he did not know it.
“Ah, that’s much better.” The abomination sighed. “Now, where to put you.” He brought the cage up to his one good eye, and gazed inside at Jet as he said this. It was then Jet, exhausted, hurting, and horrified, fainted before the creature’s horrid slack-jawed smile.
***
Thalia had finally achieved her dream, and it was turning out to be something of a bother. After years of work and study, and arguing with her parents, she’d joined the Wardens. The illustrious force responsible for policing the capital city, and king’s seat, Midburg. The intrepid professionals, the only guards she knew of who had aspirants attend schooling to join, handled everything within the walls, from customs at the port to murders in the slums. Since she was a child a fortuitous encounter with the Wardens had seen her aspiring to join their ranks, yearning deeply to put on one of their blue uniforms, crisply ironed until every seam was straight and there was not a wrinkle in sight. She had trained and studied twice as much as every other student in her class, until she was confident she could ace the entrance exam for the Warden’s academy. Then, once she was in, she trained and studied all over again.
Her efforts had hardly stopped once she won her admittance into the Wardens, instead they had accelerated. She surpassed every measure the academy had for her until she was finally graduated and put into service. Though her mother and father proclaimed how proud they were, she could see in their eyes they were worried and still not at all convinced that they wanted their daughter to pursue this path. Still, Thalia knew this was what she was meant for. She had donned her uniform for the first time, eager to solve crimes and unravel mysteries. She wanted to be a hero for another little boy or girl, just like Warden all those years ago was for her when he had returned her father’s wares and saved her family from the poorhouse. Only… she didn’t get to do any of that.
Thalia’s dreams of investigating each crime to its end, of apprehending ne’er-do-wells and villains, died under a tide of mundane matters. She was made to patrol the market, man the guard stations where citizens could come for aid, though more often than not she found herself providing directions and chatting with the elderly. She broke up more bar fights and helped more lost children find their parents than she cared to remember. It wasn’t that she didn’t find the work satisfying, it just wasn’t as impactful as she had hoped. She resolved to do her job to the best of her ability, hoping one day she would move up to be an Inquirer, senior Wardens who actually worked investigations, talked to witnesses, and sussed out clues. It was somewhat disheartening to learn her dream was still further off, but with the habits she had built she persevered
Finally, as days turned to months and months turned into three years, Thalia was given the chance to work under an Inquirer. A new drug was taking the slums of the city by storm, and they were already seeing mounting thefts and the beginnings of gang violence. The Inquirer’s task force, overwhelmed, understaffed, and with no leads they opened recruitment to try and bolster their forces. Thalia had all but thrown herself at them. She was quickly given the blue cape that would signify her as a member of the Inquirer’s troop, and though she was still considered a rookie by many she was brought into the fold. It was there she came to know the drug they were hunting was called “Faerie Dust’ and while it wasn’t dangerous for the users in most cases, it was highly addictive. Want of the drug was driving the addicted to rob, burglarize, mug, and just generally pry money from the hands of citizens in whatever ways they could think of.
It was at this moment, the height of her eagerness, she was crushed. Inquirer Reid, the officer in charge of the investigation, issued posts and duties to all the new recruits and Thalia found herself doing all sorts of menial work. She was sent across the city where she was instructed to grab office supplies, ferry reports, file evidence, and pull information from various archives. Thalia suspected the grizzled old Warden had little faith in her, despite her years as part of the Wardens, her spotless record of stellar performance. On the other hand, perhaps it could be her record and experience were the reason for her mistreatment. Maybe the grizzled old veteran, who had spent his entire life serving as a Warden, didn’t trust this precocious upstart. Whatever the case,Thalia had been consigned to doing various odd jobs ever since. Today, however, was the worst of all. Today the city guard, commonly known as Skullcaps on account of the cervellieres they wore and professionally known as the Hounds, had notified them of some sort of incident by the western gate involving a man, who they swore was a Faerie Dust addict, and his wife.
Though Thalia wasn’t confident the Hounds knew a Faerie Dust addict from a drunkard, Reid had thought it worth looking into, though not enough to take anyone actually important to the investigation away from it. Therefore it was obvious Thalia was to be sent. She had just arrived at the gate, and was about to take the narrow and dingy alley she was told held the home of the suspect in question when she heard a distant, weak cry. Thinking a child was calling for help, she cast about her gaze only to see Old Moody at Westgate, slouched against the wall, talking to two men who had clearly just entered.
One of the men was tall and whip thin, while the other was portly and sweaty and rather ill-tempered by the looks of him. Uncertainty gripped her for a moment as she failed to find the source of the cry, and she narrowed her eyes, focusing on what her ears were telling her. She heard the noise again, and though Moody seemed to either not hear it or not care it sounded very much like it was coming from somewhere near where he drooped himself lazily against the wall. Moody finally waved the two men on, clearly no longer amused by bothering passersby. As the two dingy looking strangers began to wander away, the fatter of the two reached back and struck his pack with an expression of fearful frustration
Thalia was suspicious of the man’s behavior, which was compounded with his near feral appearance that was commonly affected by the people in the slums. She called out to them and both men snapped their heads around to look at her, eyes wide. The pudgy one somehow seemed to sweat even more as she strode towards them, while the tall one looked ready to bolt. Old Moody had heard her call out, and though he looked confused he approached the pair with her. Thalia was confident they wouldn’t attempt to run while flanked by a Warden and a Hound, despite Moody’s infamous reputation for being unprofessional and lazy.
“Stop there you two.” She said in her best professional, yet kind voice. Despite what she suspected, until proven otherwise they were innocent citizens. “I’d like to inspect your bag.”
“What seems to be the problem, Warden?” The portly man sounded mouse-like and tense, all but confirming to Thalia he was guilty of something.
“I’m quite certain I just heard a noise from your pack.” Thalia said, stifling a grin as she saw the tall one’s eye twitch. She thought it likely they had a small animal in their pack, and neither looked to be a huntsman. Perhaps they were smuggling some wild animal to sell to a noble as a pet?
“A noise? There’s nothing in any of our luggage that would make a noise.” They were becoming desperate, glancing over their shoulder as Moody loomed behind them. The old guard attempted to look as threatening as possible. He didn’t want to be chasing them through alleys and such, after all. The sooner they gave up the sooner he could go back to lounging at his post.
“I don’t need to search all of your luggage.” Thalia felt the smile on her face grow sharp and a little wicked. “I distinctly heard it from your pack there.”
She pointed at the rucksack the man had slung across his shoulder, before adding, “Poaching is a rather serious offense. Go ahead and set down your bag, then step away.”
Despite looking like it was the last thing he wanted to do, the fat man slowly lowered his bag to the ground. As she approached Moody placed a hand on each of their shoulders and moved them back a few steps. She opened the bag, and was confronted by a cloth covered bundle. Deciding this was more than a little suspicious, she went to remove it when a scream pierced the relative silence of Westgate. A scream which issued forth from the very same cramped and shadowed alleyway she was initially called here to investigate.
Emerging from the shade at the mouth of the alley was a scrawny, unkempt man. His eyes were red and puffy and his skin pallid, and it seemed as though he was wasting away as his skeletal collarbones and shoulder peaked through the neck of his shirt, which hung loosely on his frame. Despite how weak he looked, he was forcibly dragging a frumpy woman who was clutching at his waist, both arms wrapped tightly around him. The woman was presumably his wife, considering how she railed against him for spending every last coin of his pay on Dust, for going so far as to steal from her, and their children. She was yelling and crying, and the man was stoic faced and cold as he attempted to pry her loose with one hand while the other sheltered something against his abdomen, away from her clutches.
Thalia was standing to step in when the woman finally broke his hold, and freed the contents of his cupped hand. Out spilled several silver coins which sparkled beautifully in the sun as they tumbled away from him. Additionally, a small pouch also flew free and as it did so its drawstrings loosened, opening the mouth of the bag and spilling a small amount of iridescent blue dust into the air. The now empty pouch tumbled lazily through the breeze until it settled onto the road in a poof of dust and detritus. There was a moment of silence, just long enough for Thalia to register the tension in the air, and then the man was atop his wife, striking at her with heavy blows and wailing as she cried out and held her hands up.
“What have you done you vile witch! Do you know what you just cost me? What I’ve lost?” Might have been what he cried, Thalia thought, though she struggled to understand him past his animalistic rage and body-wracking sobs.
Thalia and Moody both sprung into action, booted feet pounding across the cobble as they leapt on the man. His almost supernatural strength was made evident as each of them took an arm and they still had trouble keeping him down. Worst off was Moody, who had the man’s wife pummeling him about the head and shoulders as she begged them not to hurt her husband. Through all of this Thalia vaguely got the sense the two men she had stopped had fled the scene, but there was little she could do about it now.
It took several minutes of wrestling with the screaming man before the guards on the outside of Westgate had bothered to check in on the commotion. Startled by the scene before them, they had rushed in the gatehouse and grabbed man-catchers, which they used to pin the man by his neck as Thalia got her manacles on him. As soon as her manacles were on the man had calmed down, almost eerily quickly, before beginning to cry. No words were said as he sobbed like a child. Thalia got him on his feet and enlisted Moody’s help walking the man back to the Warden’s headquarters. Thalia stopped briefly to pick up the pouch he had dropped, intending to log it as evidence.
It was an arduous walk to headquarters, with the man sobbing and dragging his feet, and Moody complained and also dragged his feet, so it took them twice as long to get back as it took Thalia to get to the gate in the first place. Moody dismissed himself quickly and quietly as she handed the man over for processing, and submitted his pouch for evidence before rushing right back out to Westgate. There she forced Moody, just settled in after getting back to his post, to help her suss out any leads on the two men they’d detained before all the commotion.
A bit of asking about saw them speaking with the owner of a small food stall who catered to travelers as they arrived in the city. Thalia, amazed she hadn’t seen the man earlier, couldn’t help but advise him this was the worst possible gate to set up a food stall at. At this the young man laughed, and told her his family had a similar stall at each gate and one down by the docks. Good naturedly he gave her what information he had, directing her towards another alley, though was not so surprising as all roads but the main one that came into Westgate were alleyways. An extension of his goodwill, the young man offered her a roasted chicken drumstick, which she declined.
Moody saw her off, snacking on his own drumstick as he returned to his customary spot by the gate. Thalia stalked through the alley, attempting to follow in the fugitive’s footsteps despite the fact there was little in the way of tracks. After tracking and backtracking, and threatening two teenagers who looked like they were up to no good, she finally arrived at what she was told, by an old granny who couldn’t help but reminisce about a time when this neighborhood was nicer, was a place the two men frequented.
Tired, agitated, and well past the end of her shift at this point, Thalia left the muggy sunset outside and entered the building. Inside were rows of shelves lined with cages, full of various animals such as cats, dogs, bunnies, and all other sorts of pets. If the two were smuggling in an outside animal as an exotic best, then perhaps this pet store was in on the deal. She eyed the only person present, who stood at the back of the room behind the low shop counter. He smiled beatifically at her as she approached and asked how he could help her. Something like a warm fog stole over her thoughts as Thalia was taken aback momentarily by the sheer beauty of the man.
If someone had told her he was a prince in disguise she wouldn’t have doubted it for a moment. Steely gray eyes peeked out at her from under heavy lids, and his lips pouted delicately. She was so stunned by his appearance she only gave the barest description of the two men she was looking for. He unfortunately was unable to help, though he said he would keep an eye out for them. She felt like she was watching herself go through the motions as she apologized for wasting the man’s time, though he assured her it was of no consequence. Even going so far as to jokingly point out he didn’t have any customers, waving his delicate hands at the otherwise empty store. As Thalia made her way to the door she heard a noise, at once familiar and unfamiliar. Turning sharply, all she saw was a small rabbit with beady black eyes nibbling fiercely on some greens. Perhaps that was what was in the man’s bag then, a rabbit stolen from the king’s wood. Was it really worthwhile to concern herself over something like a rabbit? Should she really trouble a decent citizen over something like this?
Thalia thanked the man once again for his time, and left the store in a haze of bliss, gleefully forgetting the shopkeep and the store itself as soon as they were out of her sight. Never noticing how the man smiled from behind the counter, or how the smile took on a somewhat cruel aspect as he watched the Warden leave. Nor did she see how his cruel eyes fixated on the bunny, which quailed and cowered in its cage.
