Uncomfortable is the Chariot of Change

*Three moons prior...*

In the small village of Imore, nestled between mountains and trees, trailing towards the great Ipahn River, lights lit up as the sun began to set. All through the valley the air was filled with scents both savory and sweet. Heavenly smells cascading down the mountain had become the nightly norm ever since the baker had begun trading hearty wheat and cliff grains for refined cane sugar from the southern merchants. His new obsession had been experimenting with cookies, cakes and pastries- desserts from the great continent. New treats to the people of the tiny nation of Ipahn, whose sweets for much of their history revolved around fruits, compound syrups, and nuts.

Korin cautiously carried a tray of steaming buns towards a cooling rack. It was the last batch of the evening and she ensured that they were safely tucked away before turning to regard her boss. "Alright Etan, I'm all done."

Etan stood over the stove, a small pot with boiling sweet liquid rumbling inside. He was a large man with barrels for arms and legs. Deep brown hair thickly crowned a square head with a sparkling pair of eyes set atop doughy cheeks. A bowl of flour sat secured in the crook of one of his arms. Looking up from his experiment he smiled, "Good work!" His voice was always loud and jovial. "I'm going to teach Mikhail the cleanup procedures tonight so don't worry about any messes." He turned back towards his pot of mysterious liquid, his brow furrowing deeply. Korin was fairly certain what came next. "Now you better hurry on and get out of here. It's about to get real dangerous!" His voice rose echoing off the walls. "I'm about to unleash the secret technique passed down for generations!"

Etan flared his nostrils and his lips turned down into an exaggerated frown as he roared,"ULTIMATE CONCENTRATION!"

Korin had already anticipated that the eccentric man was about to do something goofy. At some point, in her childhood, he had taken to aggressively trying to amuse her. Even later when she'd come work for him at the bakery, he continued. He never got too much of a reaction out of her- Korins' nature was one of monotony. For much of her childhood and all of her adulthood she had worn the same blank expression, day in and day out. And though she never seemed to react in any polarizing manner, Etan had eventually come to recognize a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. She'd always linger and watch whatever theatrics he decided to perform. Even though she was already in her twenty-seventh year, and most certainly much too old for it, he was committed to his silly closing ceremonial practices.

The liquid began to steam and rise and right before it broke over the edge he swiftly whisked it from the burner. "Perfect." His face relaxed and he waggled his eyebrows with a grin. Etan checked for the entertained glimmer in his audience's eye whilst pouring the hot liquid into his floury mixture. Satisfied, he bid Korin a goodnight.

Korin slipped her apron over her head as Mikhail walked through the doorway, giant bread basket in hand. Not only was he the new hire but he was new to the village. A foreigner from across the seas. All week more customers than usual had come into the bakery excited to get a glimpse of the new face. Most had been women, satisfying their curiosity having heard gossip of the handsome young man working at Etans Bakery.

She could understand why.

The citizens of Ipahn were mostly of average height possessing sharp features and dark hair. Mikhail, a foreigner, was tall, lean, and sun kissed with illustrious pale hair that curled down his back. His facial features were softer, only offset by thick eyebrows that in contrast to his hair, were a deep brown. It was masculine beauty that lacked the rough edges of heroes, reserved for courtesans and muses captured in marble by their lovers.

Korin had watched all day as groups of ladies entered and exited the bakery squealing, having caught a glimpse of the new delivery man.

"Heading home?" Mikhail asked as Korin hung her apron on a hook.

Korin nodded, finally looking at the pretty man.

"You live up the mountain, right?" Mikhail continued before she could reply. "I have a delivery to make at the tavern that way. Let's walk together!" He said with a grin, his canines just slightly pointier than the rest of his teeth.

So far he reminded her of a dog. One with silky golden hair and hints of pedigree and pampered lineages. Deceptively not the kind that was eager to please or well trained but the kind of dog that would chew up your favorite shoes and drag you around on walks, doing whatever the hell it wanted. Spoiled rotten. What a shepherd or a farmer would consider a 'bad dog'.

"Oh, O-oka"-

"Perfect! I'll be waiting for you outside!" He said, cutting her off again and disappearing from sight.

Korinwatched after him for a moment before gathering her items and a couple loaves of bread. 

Outside she found Mikhail putting an animal into a harness he had specially made for the cart used for deliveries. The creature was some mix between a lizard and a wolf. With pale brown scales and slickened black hair that decorated its nape and paws, the beast's back stood well above Korins waist, with legs almost comical in length anchored by large and heavy paws. Its toes tipped in thick black claws. An animal from the great continent which he called a waterwolf. An aquatic species endemic to the marshes of the central provinces. It stood perfectly still, allowing itself to be strapped in.

Mikhail affectionately petted its head before catching sight of Korin and waving her over. "Korin, this is Elly." He introduced the woman to his pet. "Good girl," he cooed at the creature. With the sound of her name, a long lizard-like tail boasting a tuft of blackened fur on its tip, spun wildly. "Whhiiiooop, wo-wo-whhioop!," funny chirps sung praises from its gullet.

"Do you want to pet her?"

She shared a moment of eye contact with the animal, whose large yellow eyes were only a shade darker than her own. They observed her with a quiet caution. She slowly shook her head, an uncomfortable pressure settling in her solar plexus. This was the first speck felt of indirect suspicion, a little feeling of unknown origins, a tick, a wheel turning. It all started with a strange discomfort. A nearly silent feeling incited by the distant rhythmic whips upon the backs of cosmic horses. Time, material, consciousness, and spirit thundering forward as a steadfast coachman urged on the chariot of change.

The man's smile didn't falter, he only replied in good spirits, "That's okay! Waterwolves can be quite frightening to those who've never interacted with them before."

 ____________________________________________________________________________________________

The two walked in an awkward silence. The rhythmic rattle of the cart was accompanied by the occasional chirping of birds and then Elly; who seemed to reply to their tweets.

Korin fidgeted with the hem of her shirt and thought of whether she should say something or not. The woman had had no practice in starting conversations. It was strange that the foreigner wanted to be around her and it had odd sparks of heat filling her throat. She coughed into her hand to attempt to rid herself of the feeling.

How had seen her fellow villagers conversing with one another? Tried to think of how humans sat together, conversation easy on their lips.

" How…" She finally broke the silence. " How are you fairing with your work?" Her voice was stiff. Her limbs glued to her sides, leaning just a little away, keeping a distance not to close or too far.

"I find that I'm actually enjoying it quite a bit!" He did a little skip, his limbs carrying him forward with a swaying grace as they went along.

"Mm. That's good to hear." Korin replied.

"I must admit, I've never done this kind of work before. I'm still adjusting to the Ipahnish way of life. But the customers seem to be happy with my delivery efforts." His pretty smile tightened, for a second. "At first everyone was a bit chatty but that's fading now."

"Ah, I see." She wore her typical stony expression.

He had heard quite a bit about Korin in his first weeks in the village. Unusually gossipy citizens held the story at the tip of every tongue. And when he started working with her at the bakery, anyone who knew had questions. Mikahils' approachable personality attracted the interrogators. It had been tedious and he had shrugged off questions and gossip with some ease, citing her as simply introverted. Then he'd quickly move the conversation away from such matters.

He truly didn't know much of her. She was always fluttering around. Had habits of running off or turning just slightly away from her viewer. Walking with her now Mikhail saw her close and steady for the first time. The last rays of the setting sun were absorbed by tar colored hair that sucked up the light. She possessed an unmistakably Ipahnish face decorated in little moles, the darkest sitting above a pair of impassive lips. There was something dreary about the way Korin looked. Like she was caught at the scene of her crime, unblinkingly calm about her transgression. It was an uncanny and feral rawness that oozed from large eyes the color of yellow moons. She reminded him of an owl; direct, commanding, hypnotic with ill omens laced in her feathers.

"I'm sure they were very curious about me. I'm sorry if it's been a bother." Mikhail's curiosity and his unspoken questions were heavy and obvious to her. It did not surprise Korin that the customers were glad that there was a new delivery person. And it never failed to evade her notice that the people of Imore loved to gossip.

Mikhail hummed, cart clicking over stone and a soft wind swirled through the trees. He found that the most bizarre aspect of her character wasn't her owlish appearance or her eerie calm, but an undeniable ominous feeling that stickily clung to the air around her. It only further amplified her already odd appearance. He watched as the people who strayed too close looked anywhere but her, grasping at their arms and awkwardly shuffling. Their eyes rolling about, looking for an escape. And not just people, but the very world she walked in seemed to hush in her presence and scramble out of the way. He felt it now- a permeating anxiety that sunk into the bones; an unidentifiable and unreachable itch.

Korin continued to look up at him, a mystery of emotion beneath the surface of her eyes and then they left him to focus ahead. No longer offering hints. He parted and closed his lips a few times wondering where to continue. "Can I ask," he continued softly, "if perhaps you'd share?"

Korin set her gaze back to him for a brief moment in their course. A question out of line. She was thinking of the naughty dog again, doing what it wanted and tearing things up. He'd heard this story before but he was asking for it from the source, breaking social etiquette. Korin had only ever been approached so directly about her story a handful of times.

His eye contact remained steady until she finally let out a long breath. He immediately caught on to the fact that the woman was not used to having people interact with her so openly.

A slim hand lifted to her head, taking strands of black hair between her fingers she began to rub and twirl them together in a mindless rhythm. "As a child I got lost in the forest...Suffered some kind of head injury that put me in a coma and gave me amnesia… I don't really remember anything from before or during that time." She continued looking ahead, her steady pace never faltering. "The effects of the injury have been longstanding and the amnesia remains to this day." She was vaguely aware that she had been a happy and healthy child. There were the faded memories of her parents lovingly embracing one another, the smells and warmth of a house that sheltered a family, the brisk air of the morning, small white flowers clutched in her tiny first, and sounds of a lazy creek she'd always splash through. But that was it. Her next earliest memory was opening crusted and dried eyes in her room. Everything looked washed out and she was alone. The warmth of the home she could barely recall was gone and she had been alone. She'd laid in bed for a long time before her mother came and found her staring at nothing.

"You got lost in the forest?" Mikhail interrupted her momentary reminiscing, prompting her to continue.

"Yeah." She confirmed. "A couple days later a search party found me unconscious in an oak grove four mountains over. I didn't wake up for moons afterwards. Eventually, when I did, everyone thought I had been cursed by the forest." It was always a little odd to recount for her. The memories were so few and the details so vague that it was unfulfilling to the listener. People brave enough to ask wanted a story that she just couldn't deliver.

"Cursed?"

"Yes, because my body appeared in fine health despite my coma." Korin nodded, still fidgeting with her hair. She was not oblivious enough to not see the effect she had on her community. Her every action hinged on the fact that she was very aware. She did not feel supernatural or cursed. Perhaps sometimes disabled and awkward, yet the people around her always reacted in the same uncomfortable manner. "Despite the lack of religious practices, remnants of old belief systems still remain. The Ipahnish, especially in these rural parts, can be a superstitious people. We have various myths and legends surrounding trees and forests. It is believed that children who get lost in the forest are kidnapped, possessed, or even traded with evil entities that reside in them. Gods of plants and mushrooms.

"Since there were no signs of injury, some of the villagers demanded answers and action. However, the elders couldn't really confirm or deny their beliefs." From what she had understood it had been quite the battle with the Ipanish High Council. Eventually the state conceded allowing her father and mother to keep her under strict conditions. "Since it had caused enough of a disturbance of peace, I was banned from entering the valley." Mikhail looked down at her quizzically so she added, "They quelled the superstitious by having me remain higher up on the mountain so my spirit is closer to the great cosmos. That way I will remain as unsullied as possible by the evils of mortal existence." She took a moment to wave her hand, as if brushing away something before continuing to twirl her hair. "It isn't too bad though. I like the mountain."

Mikhail had heard this story in gossip from more mouths than he could count on his fingers and yet Korins own re telling of it was the most disembodied. The villagers told it like some superstitious myth, bedazzled and embellished for effect. Korin told it flat and straightforward, like it was just some fact and she didn't even care that it was happening to her.

She wrapped up her explanation without any hint of sadness or resentment toward her fellow community members or those responsible for keeping her on the mountain. Mikhail wondered if her monotony was a product of protecting herself from their judgment and fear. She glanced again at him. One full mooned look, pupils pin thin, and he was reminded that an owl was a bird of prey. And for the briefest moment, wine swirled in her irises, aglow in the orange setting sun. He thought that maybe her stony exterior wasn't to protect herself but to protect those around her. Perhaps an unconscious mechanism to protect them from whatever horrible thing gave way to the uncomfortable aura that shrouded her. That itch.

Mikhail let out a silent sigh and a smile easily spread across his face. "Well, you don't seem superstitious to me." He playfully nudged her with his shoulder, causing her to stumble before quickly righting herself. She gave him another look and Mikhail was quickly catching onto just how much the stoic woman could communicate in her eyes alone. A mystery in her swimming irises partially deciphered by the snaps and clicks of where and how her gaze settled.

Mikhail continued to wear his smile as the two carried on, the waterwolf pulling the softly clanking bread cart behind them. They settled into an unexpectedly more comfortable silence, each unknowingly sharing the same puzzled thoughts of the other.