Chapter 4

The packed dirt ground slid beneath the soles of her bare feet. Naomi was at the training field of the Nest, which was almost empty at that early hour of the morning, except for her and another Raven watching from a distance. She felt the sun against her skin, exercising in just a very short pair of shorts—"super short" as Gabriel liked to call them—and a top. Sweat ran down her body as she swung her katana from side to side. She wasn't thinking about anything else, just letting her body get used to the movements.

She had suffered serious injuries on her last mission a year and a half ago, with her right arm broken and a knife wound just below her left breast. Under her top, the long white scar left by the blade was visible on her skin—a reminder of a mistake that almost cost her life. Her arm, on the other hand, had healed perfectly, though she still felt some pain on rainy days. With a thrust, she slid her feet across the dirt, shifting her position and transitioning into a semi-circular cut to her right.

Naomi was desperately trying to make up for lost time, needing to get back to her former self. As a result, she had spent much of the last six months practically in the training yard, which was good for keeping her body in shape, though she was still a bit behind where she used to be. It also helped her forget about Gabriel, who had been missing on a mission for several months. Leaning against a weight rack with various dumbbells, Susan, the other person present, observed Naomi closely. The old Raven was responsible for the health of all the members of Nest Thirty-Four and was assessing whether Naomi was ready to return to active duty. The high walls prevented anyone from seeing the training yard, and the same went for those inside, but the sounds of conversation and movement were constant—the city was awake.

"My dear," Susan spoke suddenly, and seeing that Naomi was about to stop, she quickly added, "Don't stop, just listen to me." She stepped away from where she had been standing for the last fifteen minutes, walking closer to Naomi. "Your movements are firm and light, which is excellent for someone who fights with a katana, and your body has regained its strength."

"And?" Naomi asked, planting the tip of her weapon in the ground and resting her tired arms on the handle. "Can I go back to active duty?"

Susan walked up to Naomi and pulled a canteen from her waist, handing it to her. Naomi thanked her and took long gulps of water. After giving Naomi one last look, the old Raven nodded.

"Yes, you're more than ready."

"Thanks," Naomi said, handing the canteen back to Susan. "But I don't know, Susan, I feel like I'm weaker than before."

"That's normal, dear. You were out for nine months, and even with this intense training, it's impossible to get back to the shape you had built up over the years."

"Yeah," Naomi agreed, still a bit grumpy. "Has there been any news about Gabriel?"

Susan put away the canteen and paused for a moment as the door separating the Nest from the training area opened, and six Ravens entered, greeting them cheerfully. They walked past to begin their weight training and knife-throwing drills, but one short, scarred man stopped, smiling warmly, which made the marks on his skin stand out even more.

"Finally coming out of retirement, Naomi?" the man joked as he looked over some weights.

"Yes," Naomi replied. "I'm finally back, Murilo!"

"It's about time," Murilo teased, grimacing as he picked his weight.

Before Naomi could say anything more, loud cursing erupted from beyond the walls—not from the street, but from the direction of the smithy and apothecary of the Nest. Everyone paused to listen to the obscenities coming from Will, the Raven in charge of the armory.

"As for news about Gabriel," Susan said, indifferent to the shouting, "he, Otto, and Wesley completed the mission, so I believe they're already on their way back."

"How do you know?"

"A pigeon arrived earlier. I was going to tell you, but I didn't want to interrupt your training."

"I see. It'll be good to see him again," Naomi said, satisfied, eager to show that she was back in action. "Oh, Susan!" Naomi suddenly remembered. "Did Will finish that project I asked for?"

"My dear, haven't you heard him yelling?" Susan didn't wait for a reply. "He finished it a few days ago. He's just been working on making sure everything's perfect. He'll bring it soon, if he hasn't misplaced it."

Excitement washed over Naomi as she wiped the sweat from her body with an old towel she had brought with her. Small strands of her short hair clung stubbornly to her forehead, even though she had tied it back into a simple ponytail. For many years, she hadn't let her hair grow out, only wearing a long braid during her time on the streets. But after spending time in recovery and with no missions, she had allowed herself to grow it into a bob that now fell just below her shoulders.

As she wiped her stomach, she recognized old scars that had accompanied her for a long time. Across her entire body, white lines, some deep and thin, others long and thicker, marked her skin. Each one was a reminder of moments she would rather forget. But those moments would never be forgotten, as they were etched into her flesh. The newest scar, though narrow, was the deepest, the one that had almost cost her life. Pulling her katana from the ground, Naomi shook off the dirt from the tip, examining the weapon that had claimed so many lives. Though slightly dull, the weapon still exuded a certain elegance, being long and slender with a single-edged blade. It was different from the standard short sword and combat knife most Ravens used—her partner, Gabriel, favored those weapons. Unfortunately, Naomi wasn't very skilled with firearms, her hands shaking whenever she tried to handle one—a problem rooted in her past. Naomi's scars weren't just skin deep.

A new string of absurdities mixed with obscenities came from behind the walls, making it clear to everyone that Will was unsuccessful in his search.

"Naomi!" called Murilo, who had put a weight aside to catch his breath. "Think you can handle one of these?" he asked, pointing to the weight he had just put down.

"Honestly," Susan responded, a bit annoyed, "she's fine for simple missions, not for lifting a house."

Naomi noticed Murilo's challenging look toward her and walked past Susan, who scoffed disdainfully at her attitude. It was a bit shocking since she had never fallen for small provocations before, but having been inactive for so long, she needed to show she wasn't rusty.

"You young Crows," Susan chastised while massaging her temples with her fingers.

The wind passed, making Naomi's dry strands of hair dance with it, while the still-damp ones clung stubbornly to her forehead and chin. The other Crows there paid little attention to what was happening, continuing their exercises and hand-to-hand combat training.

Murilo was stunned when Naomi walked right past him toward the small rack of weights, selecting one four times heavier and lifting it with some effort. She controlled herself to avoid showing more strain on her face than necessary, and with the same ease with which she lifted the weight, she lowered it back down.

"The real question here, Murilo," Naomi said, controlling her breath so as not to show fatigue, "is whether you can handle it."

With a leap, Murilo stood up, laughing in satisfaction, and the others stopped to watch what was happening, while Murilo walked over to Naomi, patting her on the shoulders.

"Good to have you back!" Murilo said, pleased with the Crow. "Now that you're back, maybe things will get a little easier for us. Losing our best Vanguard for so long wasn't great." The others watching nodded in agreement as they returned to their exercises.

With a grimace, Naomi shrugged off her colleague. She had often heard about being the most skilled fighter at Nest Thirty-Four but never took it seriously. Even though deep down it pleased her, motivating her even more in her training.

"Don't start with the jokes now," Naomi said almost abruptly, trying to change the subject. "I agree, though, coming back will be good. I can't stand being idle anymore."

"And I've never seen Will so happy during the time you've been training here with us!" Murilo joked, getting ready to return to his exercises.

"I have to agree with him, dear," Susan chimed in with a motherly smile. "That old grump even ate lentils with everyone at the table these last few days."

Before Naomi could respond, someone shouted from behind the walls that there were new green and blue fabrics for sale. The trade in Nest Thirty-Four was about to start, and the price sounded tempting, Naomi thought, maybe she'd buy some later. Along with the bustling sounds of people, a new barrage of obscenities exploded from Will's direction, but this time it was clear he had found what he was looking for.

"So, he finally found it," Susan observed. "Get ready, Naomi, you're going to like this."

Holding back her excitement, Naomi simply nodded, listening to Will's hurried footsteps coming toward the training ground. The wooden door opened violently, making way for the Crow carrying something in his arms.

Will was short and bald, with a well-groomed beard. His arms and chest were extremely muscular from his work at the Nest, but he had still managed to develop a distiller's belly. A satisfied grin stretched across his face as he crossed the distance between the door and Naomi in just a few short strides.

"Sorry for the delay," he said with no trace of regret in his voice. "I spent late hours making some final touches I thought were necessary. But it's finally ready."

Without wasting any more time, Will handed Naomi the package, a brown paper-wrapped bundle meant to protect its contents. The man's excitement was contagious, drawing the attention of everyone in the area to the package.

"Careful," Will whispered before she took the bundle in her arms. "It's heavy."

Nodding, Naomi accepted what he was carrying, immediately feeling the weight—it must have been easily ten kilos, which was impressive for something so small. Cradling it in one arm, she tore open the paper, revealing what was inside to everyone.

Something resembling snake scales was packed tightly in a small bundle. Upon seeing it, Naomi couldn't hide her satisfied smile. With quick movements, she finally revealed what it was—a long-sleeved shirt completely covered with those scales on the outside. She held the collar up with both hands to get a better look. At the end of each sleeve, there was something like a glove made of black-dyed leather, the only difference being that, unlike a conventional glove, it left the fingers exposed.

"Incredible," Naomi remarked, not taking her eyes off the shirt.

"Tell me about it," Will said proudly of his work. "I know you asked for chainmail, so I used the same concept as the one they brought me."

"From the Sister," Naomi said, recalling a troubling memory from a year and a half ago. But her armor and clothes had been incredible since they were custom-made for her, which was why she had asked Will to replicate them.

"Exactly," Will confirmed. "But the weight of that so-called Sister's armor was insane, so I reduced yours considerably. Unfortunately, I couldn't make it any lighter than this," he grumbled, showing dissatisfaction with his work for the first time. "But since it's well-distributed, I don't think you'll have any problems once you get used to it."

"Why scales?" Murilo interjected, inserting himself into the conversation.

"Aside from reducing the weight, they make much less noise. Each scale was sewn onto the leather shirt."

Ignoring her still sweat-dampened body, Naomi put on the shirt, initially struggling a bit due to its weight, but once she got her head through, slipping her arms in was no problem. It was a bit warm, and she felt her body heavier, but when she moved, she truly heard no sound, which brought a smile to her face. She slid her hands into the gloves, which fit perfectly. Moving again, she felt a strange weight behind her neck, prompting her to raise her hand to check. Her fingers found a small cluster of scales.

"I added that last minute," Will admitted. "A hood."

Somewhat confused, Naomi pulled up the hood, which came down almost to the tip of her nose. She could still see clearly through the holes made with leather around her eyes. Her fingers brushed something rough near her right cheek, piecing it together. A strip of leather hung across her face where a piece of velcro had been placed at the end. She passed the strip under her chin and secured it, turning the hood into a mask.

"Incredible, Will," Naomi praised the Crow's ingenuity. "This will protect me from surprise attacks." And from new scars, but she decided not to mention that.

"And to top it all off," Will said, nearly bursting with pride, "the other advantage of the scales is this."

Taking a knife from his waist, Will struck downward, making the sharp tip of the blade slide harmlessly over the scales.

"A strike to be truly lethal needs a lot of force—or a much larger weapon than a knife. And if it's the other way around..."

He struck again, making the blade go up instead of down, causing it to get stuck briefly in the scales. Another satisfied smile appeared on his face.

"Many attacks will get caught for a moment, giving you enough time to take care of the enemy."

"You could've warned me first," Naomi said, slightly pale from the sudden strike.

"I wanted to show you that even so, your protection is guaranteed. So, what do you think?"

Naomi moved a few more times, adjusting to the extra weight now on her body. She could see everything perfectly through the hood's strategic openings. Without wasting time, she gripped her weapon again, returning to the spot where she had been training earlier under Susan's watchful eye. Holding the hilt of her katana with both hands, feeling the grip of the material against her bare fingers, she began to trace the movements and feints she had learned from her master. The extra weight made her tire faster, but when she executed a semicircular strike using the force of a thrust and continued the movement, she realized a benefit: the extra weight made her strike faster and stronger. She just needed to learn to use it to her advantage.

She performed a few more movements, turning her body and sliding her feet across the ground, feeling the sweat dripping off her. Even so, she continued until she reached her limit. She stopped, breathing heavily, while feeling some of her muscles trembling. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Will watching her expectantly.

— I believe it will work perfectly — said Naomi, walking to retrieve the sheath of her weapon, which she had left leaning against the wall earlier, near the street. She placed her weapon back in its sheath. — Once I get used to it, I'll be able to use this to my advantage. Thank you so much, Will.

Murilo stood beside his colleague, absentmindedly squeezing the sleeve of her chainmail.

— What's wrong?

— Are you sure? — the young man asked.

— After everything I saw and went through on my last mission, I can assure you, I am — she said, flashing a sly smile. — Why? You think you can't handle it?

— Naomi — Murilo responded with a weary look. — No, this time, you win.

The sun began to peek over the wall, sending beams of light onto some of the gym equipment. Everyone in the Nest knew that in the coming hours, those devices would be impossible to use due to the heat they'd absorb. Once again, the door to the main hall of the Nest burst open, and several Corvos (Ravens) entered, trying to take advantage of the time before the equipment became unusable. However, all eyes stopped on Naomi for a moment—after all, she was wearing a chainmail shirt with shorts.

— I should go — Naomi announced, feeling the curious stares. — Thanks again, Will. I'll wear it until I get used to it. And I desperately need a shower. Oh, I'll drop off my weapon with you later; it needs sharpening.

The old man nodded, satisfied with his work, as Naomi made her way into the Nest, leaving a crowd of onlookers behind. Susan slowly approached Will, whispering low enough for only him to hear.

— All this fuss over a chainmail shirt wasn't necessary.

— I had to explain all the benefits of wearing it to her.

— Sweet Will — Susan said, holding back a laugh, but a thought crossed her mind. — She looked like a snake.

— Not a snake — Will corrected, slightly offended. — A viper. A black viper.

— Black viper — Murilo murmured, who had overheard the conversation as he stood nearby.

He drifted away from the older Corvos, heading toward the others in the training yard. He wanted to ask what they thought of the nickname he'd come up with for Naomi.

Aware of the commotion she was causing, Naomi made her way as quickly as possible through the main hall of the Nest, a space filled with round tables where some Corvos were chatting or returning from missions or patrols. A large door directly ahead led to the street outside the Cova (Den), and to the right, a small room where Vicente, the cook, was making a racket searching for something among the clattering pots and cutlery.

— Where did I put the flour!! — the cook shouted.

Striding across the center of the hall, Naomi headed toward a spiral staircase made of wood. Unlike the main construction, which was an old mansion from the time of the Ancients, the repairs were made with wood, clay, or sometimes mud, depending on the situation. The stairs creaked under her agile steps, but held as she reached the corridor of rooms, the first of which belonged to Jonas, the leader of the Nest. Usually, this door remained ajar, only closing when he was asleep or in a meeting. Naomi recalled Jonas's expression the night before when he received a strange message out of the blue. Something was wrong. When wasn't it?

She entered her room, which was between two others that had remained unoccupied ever since their owners never returned from a mission. Struggling a bit, she managed to remove the heavy shirt, which fell to the floor with a thud. Luckily, it didn't land on her foot. She sat on the hard mattress, laughing to herself. Almost breaking her foot with her own chainmail would've been embarrassing beyond recovery. Carefully, she picked up her new armor and laid it on the bed, next to her katana. Gathering the courage to undress for a bath, she suddenly realized she had forgotten her towel in the training room. Frustrated, she grabbed Gabriel's towel instead, figuring he wouldn't mind—after all, they'd been through a lot together, and sharing a towel seemed trivial in comparison.

The small shower cubicle barely fit one person, containing only the showerhead and a hook for hanging the towel by the door. As the hot water cascaded over her head, Naomi's thoughts drifted back to the events of the past—the deaths of her friends at the hands of Irmãzinha, the tunnel full of spiders, and her desperate struggle to escape, followed by the ambush in the desert by the Nomads.

Even after all this time, the person behind S.L. had never been caught or identified, and judging by Jonas's reaction, it was clear that whoever was responsible was powerful. But why someone would create such a vile drug remained a mystery to Naomi. And, of course, she couldn't forget about Livya, a rookie Raven who had been involved in the S.L. incident. The trauma had been severe, and Livya had been sent to the Bunker, where she had been receiving treatment for over a year.

Naomi filled her mouth with water, making bubbles for a few moments before spitting it against the wall as she turned off the shower. One downside of having slightly longer hair was the extra effort needed to dry it. Wrapping herself in the towel, she retrieved her clothes from the wardrobe—the only piece of furniture in the room besides the bed. She put on flexible long pants, a shirt, and a long-sleeved, lightweight shirt to avoid getting too hot.

Without much effort, she pulled on the pants and sat on the bed, fastening her top. She didn't even want to imagine the discomfort of her chest rubbing against the leather fabric without proper protection. Finally, she put on the chainmail. It wasn't necessary yet, but she needed to get used to it as soon as possible. She then layered the long-sleeved shirt over it to hide the scales, and another shirt on top to disguise the points where the scales peeked out.

— Not bad, I guess — she muttered to herself.

With one hand, she retrieved her boots from under the bed, and with the other, she placed her katana in the corner between the wall and the bed frame. Quickly lacing up her boots, she bent down again to grab a knife, securing it at her waist.

Removing the towel from her still-damp hair, Naomi hung it on the bathroom hook to dry, then stepped into the corridor, feeling the weight on her shoulders. She had two objectives in mind: to buy the fabric she'd heard about earlier (even though she could only wear black, it would make for a good bedsheet—her current one was quite worn out), and to see Aldrey to give her the good news that she was ready for a new mission.

She descended the stairs quickly, noticing that the hall was more crowded than before.

— Hey! — someone called out.

At first, Naomi paid little attention, as there were many Ravens scattered around the tables, eating or drinking something. But the voice called out again.

— Hey! Black Viper!

Naomi froze on the stairs, her hand instinctively reaching for her weapon's hilt. After all, such a venomous snake was a considerable threat.

— Oh! So Naomi is the Black Viper! — Vicente said, poking his head out of the kitchen.

— Yes — replied the same person who had been with Murilo earlier in the training yard.

— Naomi! — shouted a third person from one of the tables. — Where did that nickname come from?

Bombarded by questions from all sides, Naomi could only manage a confused grimace.

— What?

— Your moniker! — said the person talking with Vicente.

— Moniker? — echoed a voice from the foot of the stairs.

Everyone turned to the source of the question, a Raven with dark circles under his eyes, clearly sleep-deprived. Jonas, the leader of the Ravens of Den Thirty-Four, descended the steps. Once again, he asked,

— What do you mean, moniker?

— It's normal, sir! — replied Will, who had suddenly appeared in the hall. — Ravens who stand out are given a name, and I truly believe Naomi deserves a moniker after the S.L. incident.

— I see. I just don't understand why Black Viper?

Regaining her composure, Naomi slipped out the exit, heading into the bustling street while ignoring the ongoing conversation behind her. Slightly rattled by what had just happened, she collected her thoughts. She couldn't understand why she'd been given a moniker out of nowhere. For a Raven, a moniker was a status symbol, setting them apart due to unique skills or significant achievements within the organization, like the story of the Fire Lord, a Raven who lived two hundred years ago. He used bombs, controlled fires, and Molotov cocktails to fend off a gang of criminals planning to invade his Den, burning most of the attackers alive. But Naomi didn't see herself as someone who had done anything remarkable. Sure, she was part of the S.L. incident, but she wasn't alone during it. She grew a little angry at Will when she realized he'd probably designed the chainmail with this moniker in mind. She'd have a serious talk with him later.

Pushing these thoughts aside, she entered the dirt streets, blending into the crowd of people, each going about their daily business. The flow of bodies moved in all directions, but it was clear that the largest, most constant stream was headed toward the city's commercial center.

Naomi walked past houses and clothing of all colors, except black—a color reserved for the Ravens, which made them easy to identify. A cart carrying a load of potatoes had broken down a few meters ahead, leaving one of its drivers standing on top of the load, holding a wooden stick, wary of any wandering hands.

A Raven stood near the cart, observing the crowd silently from a corner, and everyone knew that if they were caught stealing by a Raven, they'd have their hand broken. Naomi had never been caught during her days on the streets, but in exchange, she'd had a broken nose and a few cracked ribs.

She passed by the cart, giving a slight nod to her fellow Raven, who responded with a wink. The locals didn't care much for the armed group, which Naomi understood. Besides being trained killers, the Ravens didn't take prisoners like the Ancients, who had large areas to hold such people. There was no way that could happen now, Naomi thought; everything was too scarce.

The shouts of merchants and the bargaining of vendors with customers clashed in Naomi's ears as she finally arrived at her destination. The main market of the Pit was nothing more than a large open-air bazaar, where disorganized stalls were crammed together, each vendor trying to take up as much space as possible, doing everything to draw attention to their products: from shouting loudly to juggling fruits, and some even wore minimal clothing to attract attention to what they were selling.

Naomi passed by a few beggars with skeletal hands and wide eyes, stretched out towards the people shopping, hoping for a coin, but they were ignored by the crowd, which walked over them as if they were no more than a breeze or, at most, an obstacle to avoid.

— "What do you mean!?" — a man shouted at a woman who was easily three times his size. — "This lizard meat costs two coins?"

— "That's the price!" — the veins bulged in the stout woman's neck. — "If you don't want it, you can leave!"

— "I saw this same meat for one coin! You're trying to rob us!"

— "Impossible to find this meat for less," — the woman looked ready to punch the man, or at least that's how it seemed.

— "If you keep this nonsense up, I'll call the Ravens to deal with this!"

— "Can't handle your problems on your own anymore?"

The man ended up taking the meat for one coin, and the vendor didn't seem bothered at all, clearly having intended that outcome. Lizards were more common than chickens in those arid lands. Naomi knew that no Raven would get involved in something as trivial as that—it was just an empty threat from the old man.

Unfortunately, after a fruitless search for the fabric vendor, Naomi gave up and headed to Aldrey's bar. Given the price she'd heard earlier, she didn't doubt that the fabric seller was already at home counting her profits.

The bar was on the outskirts of the center, forcing Naomi once again into the flow of people, though she was soon far enough away to no longer hear or recognize the usual sounds and smells of the place. The potato cart that had broken down earlier was gone, along with its precious cargo and its guard with the fearsome stick.

From time to time, she spotted a Raven on patrol, which was normal for the newcomers. She took a side street that was less crowded, allowing her to walk more freely without feeling cramped, though as a Raven, people instinctively kept their distance. Still, constantly being on guard for her coin pouch was tiring. She soon arrived at her destination.

She entered the modest establishment of her friend, where two men were playing cards at one of the few tables. The place was no more than a long counter with drinks displayed behind it, and two tables, one on each side of the small room. Aldrey sat behind the counter, resting her head in one hand, watching the men play.

— "I know why that face!" — Naomi said, standing in front of her friend.

— "I doubt it!" — Aldrey replied, only rolling her eyes towards the newcomer.

— "Let me guess," — Naomi pretended to think. The time spent resting had changed her a bit, made her more sociable, or so they said. — "You need a drinking buddy!"

— "Nailed it!" — Aldrey said, already grabbing two glasses and passing one to her. — "What'll it be today?"

— "Something strong! I'm celebrating!"

— "What for?" — Aldrey asked with a funny expression while rummaging through the bottles.

— "Gabriel's finally coming back, and I can start doing missions again, at last!"

— "So that 'thing' is finally going to show up!" — said the bar owner as she pulled out a yellow bottle. — "And having you back on the streets is a relief. Here, let me fill your glass."

— "What's this drink?"

— "Orange spirit with a bit of pepper," seeing her friend's horrified expression, she added. — "Drink it before you say anything."

Reluctantly, Naomi followed her friend's advice, and then understood. The alcohol was so strong it tasted only like itself, drowning out all other flavors. She almost laughed at Aldrey's expression.

— "That," — Aldrey said — "is basically yellow alcohol! Want more?"

Naomi took a deep breath and downed the glass in one go, feeling the drink burn her gums and throat. Her mouth was practically disinfected. Grimacing at the strong taste, she reached out to her friend, who held the yellow bottle at an angle. Again, she downed the glass in one go, and again, it was refilled. The men at the nearby table suddenly started shouting at each other, putting Naomi, still recovering from the drink, on alert. But she noticed Aldrey paid them no mind. One of them had clearly won whatever game they were playing.

— So Gabriel is finally coming back — Aldrey commented, watching one of her customers shuffle the cards again. — How many months has it been since he left?

— Two months — Naomi lied, not wanting to admit it had already been four months. She didn't want to come off as a lovesick girl. She might have been feeling the effects of the alcohol, but she wouldn't make that mistake.

— Wow! — Aldrey exclaimed, downing half of her drink without so much as a grimace. — Was he sent on such a dangerous mission?

— When isn't he? — Naomi replied, watching her friend nod in agreement, before continuing. — It was an infiltration mission. It's normal for it to take a while. He once spent six months on one a few years ago.

— Girl — Aldrey began, giving her a sympathetic look as she refilled Naomi's glass. — This round's on the house, you probably need it. — A suggestive smirk replaced her previous expression.

Naomi felt her ears turn red, and it wasn't because of the alcohol. Once again, the table beside them erupted in shouts, blending with Aldrey's exaggerated laughter as she almost dropped the bottle in her hands. The two men stopped playing to watch the strange scene of someone teasing a Crow. It wasn't something you saw every day, and no one would believe them if they told the story, saying they must have been drunk.

— You know, Naomi — Aldrey said, managing to recover from her scandalous laughing fit. — You've changed.

— Huh?

— How can I put this? — She refilled both glasses as she thought about how to phrase it, clearly starting to feel the effects of the alcohol herself. — You're happier, less grumpy and serious. This time off has done you good.

Naomi was taken aback by the comment. She realized people had been acting differently around her lately. Being away from the filth of the world for a while had a positive effect on her.

— Who's different? — a familiar voice asked from behind Naomi.

Before she could even turn around, the person was already beside her at the bar. Naomi had to stifle a laugh that bubbled up for reasons she couldn't quite explain. Gabriel stood there, looking like he hadn't slept in days. He was thinner, but apart from that, he hadn't changed much over the past few months. In a sudden burst of emotion, Naomi hugged him tightly. He smelled of sweat and was dusty from the journey, but she didn't care. Once again, the men at the table stopped what they were doing to witness the bizarre display of affection between Crows. If they told anyone, they'd claim they had been drinking too much.

— What did I miss? — Gabriel asked as Naomi finally let go of him.

— This young lady here! — Aldrey said, gesturing with her glass toward Naomi. — She's acting like a lovesick maiden.

— I'm not! — Naomi exclaimed, her ears turning even redder.

— Actually — Gabriel chimed in — you do seem different.

Feeling embarrassed by the attention, and aware that the other customers had completely forgotten their game to focus on what was happening at the bar, Naomi quickly downed her drink in one gulp, this time feeling nothing.

— How did you find me? — she asked, lowering her glass, trying to change the subject.

— You're not exactly hard to track down — Gabriel replied, with Aldrey nodding in agreement. — You're either at the training hall, the market, or drinking here.

That spot-on observation left Naomi a little unsettled. Realizing she was so predictable stung.

— Was this your first stop? — Aldrey teased with a mischievous grin.

— Second.

— The training grounds — Aldrey guessed.

— The training grounds — Gabriel confirmed.

— Are the others okay? — Naomi asked, trying to steer the conversation away from herself.

— Yeah, both Otto and Wesley are fine. They're probably reporting to Jonas about the mission now. — Gabriel refused the glass Aldrey offered.

— You're definitely having a drink — Aldrey insisted.

— I love having so many options — Gabriel joked, taking the glass that was handed to him. — Anyway, both of them are fine and should be wrapping up their report soon.

Gabriel knocked back the yellow liquor like it was water, lowering his glass and asking for a refill, which was promptly poured, this time more generously than before. Naomi recognized that look on his face — it was the same one she had after finishing a mission.

— I'm gonna need the whole bottle — Gabriel said, grabbing it from Aldrey. — After what I just did, I need to drink non-stop.

— Take it — Aldrey replied, serious after hearing his remark. — You look like you need some rest.

— You have no idea — Gabriel said, reluctantly getting to his feet.

— Though I doubt you'll be resting anytime soon — Aldrey added with a playful wink toward Naomi.

For the third time that day, Naomi's ears turned red.