The center of town is full as I've ever seen it on our last morning (not that I much mind). I have the Bliss bag locked away in the safest compartment of the herbal bag, right over Altair's haunches, but I am still unnerved by the hungry way the other Sentients look at us. There is a profound lack of light in their eyes, even though the Dog Days makes them luminous. One of the younger Canira raises her snout when we come near and whispers something to a friend of hers. Her pink tongue darts out like a snake, traces her teeth. I can almost hear keening.

Altair's body language yells leave.

I flick my tail against my left leg, our code sign for when I need his ear, and when he pulls his head down I whisper, "Al. We've pulled off heists while in legitimate danger. I'm fair sure we can't leave now just because of paranoia. 'Sides, we really don't have a clue why the Dog Days are still happening. Do you want to amble out into the middle of nowhere without the slightest idea what's going on?"

"I think we can pin down why it's happening," Altair says. "With all these souls not returning to the world, there's likely a grim magic shortage and the world is reacting appropriately, by trying to supercharge all the living. Imagine, if you will, an organism in a locked container. As air gets more scarce, they will struggle more and more powerfully to breathe, even as their very lungs fail them..."

I caught about half of that, and what I did catch was sufficiently horrifying to get the message across. "I suppose that makes sense-- and I suppose you're a scholar now, smart-hooves."

"I actually pay attention when Zwella explains artifacts," he retorts. "I think the fundamentals of magic are important for our profession."

I glance around at the assembling crowd, which grows thicker by the second. "Whispering or no whispering, perhaps this isn't the place to mention Zwella. Anywhom, I don't think we'll be going back there. Her rebuffing our goods is one thing, even if it hurt my feelings, but blowing up the Underbelly..."

"I always hated that town and everyone in it." Altair says, resolutely. His ears twitch and his neck swivels about, his body staggering after to readjust himself. "Wait. Do you hear that?"

I turn towards the crowd, staring tiredly at the swarming, colorful mass of nervous Sentients, all of whom are so unique that they effectively cancel each other out. Sure enough, from beneath the drowsy hum of chatter I can parse the soft song of a distant instrument. The sound is high and cohesive enough in rhythm that it almost sounds like another voice, a few tones above those of the Canis and Canira. Altair passes me by, entranced, and I follow him into the mess of the crowd. Near the back, lying in the shade of a tree with a half-empty bag near her paws, is an off-white, brown-dappled Canis with her ears bound by ribbons of dark fabric. She glows unlike anyone else in the crowd, but the light takes patterns around her. There's a system of glyphs around her head, like a stylized sun. It continues out around her, from the two small blooms on her back, where wings might be, and down to her tail and legs, which keep a ghostly shadow of light after she moves them, like an afterimage. She has in her mouth a lyta, a small pipe made of several connected tubes, which she moves back and forth with telekinesis to change pitch. She looks up at us inquisitively, then to her bag, which she moves forwards with a paw, revealing the few donations she's received.

I am not a patron of the arts.

She drops the lyta and says, "I'm not looking for charity. I'll trade you for Bliss."

"With that much magic? Fair wonder. You must be in incredible pain, exerting that much energy all day." I say.
"It's not the pain that gets me, but I appreciate your concern." she says.

"Quiet down, travellers. That's a Defender up there," growls a Canis nearby.

Reluctantly, the three of us look up.

"Ahem." The poor sap on stage, just a few heads above the rest of the crowd, is anything but an agent of the divine. His horns are short, which brings me little confidence (why oh why would you send someone this lacking in magical talent into the woods during the Dog Days?) and his legs shake so powerfully I think he might be about to fall over. Staring all of us in the face as if staring down an open-mawed dragon, he decrees. "I have... a m-m-m-m-m-m..."

"Spit it out." suggests the Canis from earlier.

"Mmmmm..." he whines.

"Oh, for Verhamera's sake, pup!" cries a Canira.

The whole crowd begins to bark, fury finally leased from the facade of calm, and only when Delia gets on stage herself and slams a sizeable pole into the wood of the stage does everyone quiet down. "I will not have this kind of rabble-rousing in my town. Let him speak." Delia yells.

The Canis leaves her side, gratitude teeming in his huge eyes, and begins again. "I had a message from the castle. Suvi's got a prophecy." He closes his eyes. "It goes... it goes..."

Something speaks through him.

"When stills the apex of the sun,

the wrath of souls leave all undone.

Til penance comes and clears the head

the living fall and rise the dead.

Find just and sinful, reason and rime

unite in death as joined in crime

and for their hope, join at the start

Burn out the light and end the heart."

There is a brief silence, following this, as the crowd rises up like a wave ready to crash. The second prophecy ever afforded us, and it comes at a time like this, as cryptic as this. The Canis next to us mutters, "Stars, we're dead."

Around us, the crowd has begun to erupt again. "What's that supposed to mean?" cries a Canis, and similar yells of concern have begun to sweep the group.

From the center, a Canis whose horns are long enough to set him apart from the whole assembly announces, "Let us enlighten you." The crowd begins to move as a great sea with an undertow. The party seems to draw back into itself as more and more members file past each other, all of them approaching the center where the messenger stands, awestruck, with fear in his eyes. From the pandemonium, the single Canis takes the head. Orbs of light glow between his horns and illuminate moving patterns on the ornate fabrics that cover his body, not a singular outfit but instead an assemblage of different strips. He is harshly beautiful, as are his more scarcely adorned followers, all of whom filter upwards with him. "My name is Gabriel, of Heaven's Jaw. I am here to bring you good news-- this suffering is not a curse, but a blessing! Only through it can we be cleansed of our sins... this is the great penance spoken of in the prophecy."

I step back. "I know a cult when I see one. Time to go, guys."

"Oh, no you don't." The white Canis rounds on us, fur bristling and halo flaring. "You two might be able to get out of here unscathed, but I glow like Procyon on a cloudless night. I need the Bliss." she draws her bag forwards. "Give it up. Please."

"Keep it down. You're attracting attention." Altair says.

"However, only unity can bring us together into this greater future... which is why, sadly though I must say it, I must warn you of the damned in your midst. Those with no aura at all, the Forhaga... they are exempt, by their terrible nature, from this punishment, and by scattering the petals of deceit amongst your number they have tried to rob you of your rightful noble suffering. If we can not unite against such a force, then we may never leave the Dog Days at all. This is why, with a heavy heart, I must ask your help in condemning these abominations to death."

There are murmurs amongst the crowd. I slip open one of the trinkets pockets, but all that falls out are a few crystals on a string, all of which are clear and lacking in energy.

"I'm seeing light," says one, "and a hart."

"Burn out the light. End the hart." another repeats.

"We've all got heartlines here, friends," Altair says, backing up. The white Canis is already gone, dashing for it back into the woods.

"It's been an honor serving you all," I say as the crowd begins to round on us. "Somewhat of an honor. Frankly I'm hurt and offended that this is how it ends after the generous deal we cut you."

"You stole our food!" yells Delia.

As Altair shoots me a look (thanks), I yell, "Fair. Salutations!"

Altair rams one of the nearby Canis with his good antler and we take the exit for all it has. The forest greets us like an old friend, adrenaline and wind whistling their swan song in our ears, and I can still hear the calls of the town behind us, even though most of them have given up the chase.

Gabriel's voice sounds above it all, his long ears waving in the wind: "Run wherever you want, infidels! We will find you and by the grace of Verhamera herself, we will destroy you."

Altair's wheezing breath sounds like ringing laughter in my ears. I keep his pace, paws flying into perfect rhythm, and we bound back into our one true home: the open road.

Am I certain the townsfolk would have killed us on sight? Perhaps not-- I could have made a fair case for myself.

Did rushing the forest help matters? No.

Was I ever sick of being in one place? Oh, absolutely.