Desert Stories

Anko, Ferrovia, and Malzkael made an improvised camp by prying some boxes aside before ducking under the canvas.

"Guess we should have that talk now," Malz said, feeling more energized than she had in ages. Ayther dates may not have been mana-enriched, but after two years of gruel, they were the best food she'd ever tasted.

She'd also grabbed herself a pair of pants and cut a hole for her wing into one of the thin uniform tunics. Deciding to keep the robe from her brief interview with the Duke of Heresy was more a matter of practicality than need, since it seemed of high enough quality to sell or barter.

The catkin - whose variety Malz had yet to guess, but he seemed like an adult even if he was child-sized - clutched his compass with his palm as he regarded her. "I'd very much appreciate it," he said, his tails flowing with curiosity.

Malz turned to Anko, who was experimenting with four swords - one in each hand - and not really paying attention. "Anko?"