It has been so long, or so it feels, since we have been somewhere I can con without worrying about my neck. In all honesty, it's been a long time since we've made a true con, and not the feeble, sad business of Bliss sales or the treacherous trades of Yaan.

"You're thinking what I'm thinking," Altair notes as we come over the hill to a massive town on raised ground, complete with substantially tall buildings.

"Wordplay," I say, thinking of possible cons as one might think fondly of food. "I miss wordplay so dearly."

Altair sighs. "I wouldn't mind a little connivery myself."

"Right, right, but please leave me out of it." Illuet's eyes narrow, her tongue hitting against the top of her mouth. "Do you have any Bliss left?"

"I left what little we had in a particularly nice magical teapot of mine back at the old house. It was two petals, at best. I don't even know if that would have been enough to keep someone of your caliber down." I say.

"Pity," Illuet mutters, looking up on the town we've been encroaching on for hours, "though I wouldn't expect to stay too long." Altair and I follow her gaze up to the central fence, where two guards stand in armor that covers half their face, spiking out towards the back to make them look almost like... birds. I squint, sure this must be some trick of the light, but the side armor bares an uncanny resemblance as well. Both of the guards have wings, which is uncommon but not unheard of amongst Canira. I'm unsure if I should be crossing feathers off the list for potential items to sell here or moving it all the way to the top.

As we approach the gates, the guards' auras spike. Both of them are air elementals, and around them stirs a fierce gale. "State your business." says one.

"Or prepare to be blown back down the hill," threatens the other. Their voice echoes off their helmet, which is a little too large for them and hangs over parts of their mouth. They spread their wings wide, as if to demonstrate, and the older guard knocks them on the head.

"We're travellers." I say.

"You'll have to give us something better than that," says the older guard, exasperated. "Vague descriptions so often lead to traitorous deceptions. Could you at least give us some particular business?"

Wary, I ask, "So if someone was starving, and they announced their alibi as traveller, you would let them die on your gates?"

"Certainly not." the older guard says, taken aback. Her eyes gleam with pride through her armor. "Garuda City holds itself to a much higher moral standard than that. We would bring food to the gates."

"Ah," I say, moving to end the conversation. There's still smoke on the air and I'm already considering a long, dark nap. "We're... two merchants and a bard, here on fairly official business regarding various warring factions in the area. We come as a warning, thought we're not adverse to taking some free hospitality."

The younger guard steps aside, helmet rustling. The elder guard steps aside slowly, opening and dipping a wing to welcome us in, and we pass them into the streets.

Garuda City is a residence of substantial size and organization. The architecture is mainly stone, and many of the buildings have birdlike creatures on them, many of whom are carrying large plates containing symbols or marks. These seem to correspond to the residential buildings... I've seen these symbols in correlation to pack order before, but the actual marks differ from city to city. What's more surprising is the inhabitants of the buildings themselves.

A lanky Felis and an even thinner Canis exit one of the larger buildings, talking to each other in hushed tones. I catch an Ursus, rare as they are in this part of Opphemria (let alone in cities) and Altair taps my paw a little too harshly, tilting his head towards another Fauna carrying bags down the way. The Dog Day auras are just as diverse, forming a spectrum of color that hangs in the air, just as real of a presence as the sound of footfall or the muted smell of food. The cold, imposing stone buildings and general lack of conversation give the entire place a subdued, melancholy feel, though the underlying tension is like the thinnest trail of blood in clear water.

"Should we find somewhere to stay tonight?" Altair asks, watching the Fauna enter another building with mild bewilderment.

"I usually sleep under trees," Illuet says. "In all seriousness, I only bring the lyta on my travels. Speaking of such, Altair, do you have my lyta?"

Altair bows, letting the bag shift towards her. "I do indeed, my lady."

My lady? "I didn't know you were carrying her lyta." I say.

"He had the trinkets bag. I think I dropped the lyta in." Illuet says.

"When did you discuss carrying her lyta?" My voice rises.

"No premeditation. Dropped it in." Illuet reiterates, demonstrating with a flick of her paw. "Boop." She drags the lyta out of the bag and places it back around her neck.

I swing to Altair, slackjawed with indignance. "Does she know our pockets?"

Illuet responds, "I know the one my lyta was in. Altair gave me the combination. It's up, down, left, right, another right... that's it, right?"

"One more left. We kept it pretty far in." Altair says, tapping her paw gently with his hoof. "All the best for you."

"Altair!" I snap.

Altair and Illuet exchange an indescribably obnoxious look. I try to smooth my fur down, noticing that near everyone in the plaza is staring our way, and with a huff I settle myself. Rule thirty-one: When in the shops, be extraordinary, when in crowds, be invisible.

"We'll have to talk with whatever alpha is running the city." I say, "Last time, she found us, but I don't see any haughty Canis going around aggressing guests. Bet she's in her house and offices."

Illuet stares down the street. Tilting her head, she asks, "Which one's the alpha's?"

Briskening our paces, Altair says,"If I had to guess? The most extravagant one in the city." We pass rows of stone homes, which give way to signless buildings peddling wares, which fade to more grim, sizeable stone buildings as we enter even further into the town. Everyone around us walks like they're trying to get back inside as quickly as possible. Finally, with a quick tip of his head, Altair notes, "That'll do it."

He's gesturing to not one but two buildings, which are far apart enough only to be distinguished as separate edifices, much in the way two teeth are close enough to serve as a unit but far enough for one to see the crack down the middle. The buildings are almost twins, though the one on the left has a sizeable porch that sets it apart and brings the entrance almost up to the divide between grass and foliage and the dirt and stone roads of the city. In addition, it has larger lanterns. The right is more ornate, with two diving birds holding a single plate with a jeweled, looped curve upon it, but the carvings do not have the same distinguished sheen of wear that the one on the left bares.

"So." Illuet says. "Which one..."

"One on the left's older." I say, stepping up onto the porch. "Let's go."

Admittedly I feel somewhat less confident when the door creaks open, as if warning me to turn back while I still have my head, and it unveils a shady room bereft of any real furniture save a few cushions in the corner and an unhappy potted plant.

"Is this... the home of the Garuda City alpha?" I ask, tentatively.

A Canira almost Altair's size, with legs close to the size of his neck, thunders down the stairs and slams down on the first floor, setting off a dozen lights at once. She spreads her wings wide, so wide that they hit both wall, and uses them to aggressively gesture us further into the room. We step forwards and survey her in all her magnificence: she's all silver, shining beaked armor and an aura that blends several elements the way a good dish might blend several flavors. The overall effect is something akin to that of a massive storm, and I can feel my fur spiking and rippling in wind and chill air that seem to be emanating from her. "This would be my home, yes. I apologize for the lack of accommodations, but I prefer to live on the top floor so this space is... lacking in use. Would you like to come upstairs?"

Altair and I have never seen someone so legal, so we both nod in terrified silence. Illuet, on the other hand, exclaims, "Thank goodness! There was this other huge house right next to yours, so this was a bit of a leap of faith."

She leads us up a wide set of steps with tall ceilings into an arched room that is glass with shutters all the way around, like a lighthouse with shades. Since they're all open, I can see the entire city, which teems with all kinds of Sentients and various buildings, which are far more lively from above. The alpha says, "Well, you guessed right. Valora, by the way."

"Actually, we guessed left." I mutter as I take in the view.

She laughs, which is a harsh noise more akin to the rumble of thunder in a nearby storm than a sound of mirth. "I suppose so."

"Who lives in the other house?" Illuet asks.

"An associate of mine." mutters Valora. "It's not terribly important. If you stick around here for long enough you're bound to meet up with that rapscallion eventually."

(If I have learned anything across my ten years of travel, it is that 'associate' can mean any number of things and one of them is partner in crime.)

I compose myself. "I have several important questions to ask."

Valora rounds on me, staring down with her wings fully extended. If this is an intimidation tactic, it is effective. I am already into a tail-tucked surrender before we've so much as exchanged blows. Firmly, she says, "As have I. What is your purpose here?"

"We're vagabonds," Illuet says. "Hungry, tired vagabonds."

Her eyes and nostrils widen. "And the guards let you in?"

We nod.

She mutters something beneath her breath, and I fear for the guards. "We'll offer what we can, but hospitality is a steeper price for us to pay by the day. You wouldn't believe the kind of unsavory character that's been lurking around..."

"That's actually what we told the guards our visit was for," Illuet peeps. "Not that we're unsavory. We just know a good deal about various unsavory activities that we figured you might want to hear about."

I straighten myself up as Valora's glare falls across the rest of the party, reaffirming my con's ease in the face of her gray, furious eyes. Head up. Hackles down. Smooth, Hawk, smooth. My eye twitches, recognizing the sinister purr beneath my self-assurances, but if there's anything I don't want to think about right now it's Cassiver.

"So not quite innocent vagabonds," snips Valora.

"We're being a little more honest with you than we were with them." Illuet tells Valora, face still shining with unreasonable confidence. She is either entirely earnest or trying to get us all killed.

lluet, stop. Illuet, no.

"We'll bring no trouble in your walls," I add onto her... confession.

"If you had business regarding unsavory characters, I'd most certainly like to hear about it," Valora says coolly.

"Do you know the organizations Blasted Tooth and Heaven's Jaw?"

"Do we ever know Heaven's Jaw," mutters Valora. "Who do you think owns that building over there?"

"Wh-we-e-e-ell," I say, stretching out the accursed syllable long as I can. "We would prefer not to be. Not to..."

"Be set on fire?" Altair finishes. I am all over myself. If the last four times I've messed up recently weren't embarrassing enough, now I'm failing at smoothtalking, too. I bite my own tongue in indignance, which just makes my mouth smart (with pain, unfortunately, and not intelligence).

"That won't be an issue. We're not an orthodox branch of the organization, so you three should be safe. In fact, if you're lucky, you'll never half to deal with... well, let's just say that my neighbor is a raucous know-it-all who I have the displeasure of being bound to at the hip due to the nature of our positions and the politics of the city. That said, in times like these? He's of strong moral character, and I appreciate that greatly."

Everything she's said is sweet and terribly dissonant with everything I know about Heaven's Jaw. Altair and Illuet are watching me to take the next course of action, and I slide one fang over my tongue flesh, cold air still blowing directly into my face.

Valora continues around me, "But yes, we are acquainted with Blasted Tooth. Are they in the area?"

"They may be. I only wanted to say that up north, in a minor town, we witnessed the death of at least one of their leaders."
Valora's wings fall. "Incredible. I'll tell our Defenders to knock that one off the list... one down, thirty-so to go."

"Defenders?" I ask, imagining Altair and I thrown in a real prison deep beneath the roots of an ancient tree far in the center of Opphemria.

"Thirty-so?" Illuet asks, in much the same tone. "There's that many rogue groups attacking cities?"

"Sure, in this area." Valora says. "Everyone out there long enough ends up turning tail. The longer you're alone or exerting your magic, the faster it... gets you. I can't turn the passive aura off, naturally, but all our guards are armed so that their magics are a last resort. On the other paw, if you kept going, and going, and going..."

"I believe I get the picture." I say.

The silence hangs thick on the air.

"Is there anywhere we can receive medical attention?" Altair asks.

She nods. "Our medical ward is quite full, however. Warding off invaders during the Dog Days has been... compromising, to say the least, given our adherence to certain moral codes. We've gone up to teeth, in recent moons... sorry, if that..."

"I'm not offended by anyone mentioning teeth." Altair flicks an ear. "I have my own teeth. I'm not stealing anyone else's teeth in return for a glimpse at the future. You do what you want, but can we can all collectively calm down about teeth?"

Valora sprawls her wings out to an odd angle and plucks two feathers out of her left wing. "Tickets," she says between gritted teeth, offering them to Altair and Illuet, who take them with some hesitation. "For outsiders. You'll want to go down through the main plaza, hard left, and the building that's grown over is the ward. Our healers wanted to magyk the house up from trees, but this was the compromise they struct with our local architect's guild. Regardless, it's impossible to miss." She speaks about the city with a thick melancholy, hanging on every word. Her eyes have narrowed as if she is staring into the sun, feeling the full comfort of its light on her fur.

"Sorry to interrupt, but d-did you just pull feathers out of your wing?" Altair asks, holding the feather as far out on the shaft as possible. "Doesn't that hurt? Does it impair your flight in any way?"

"My aptitude had to do with my wings, specifically augmentation of them, but it went haywire once the Dog Days began. I'm constantly growing excess feathers," Valora explains. "It doesn't hurt."

"And if I were to go set up our roost for the night, where should they meet me?"

"Guest homes are the ones with the sideways winding mark on them. Think of it as like a road... they're unlocked, often without doors, but the city is perfectly safe at all times of day. I'd suggest the one to the left of the ward."

"Fair," I nod to Altair and Illuet. "You two take care of yourselves."

"That's what we're doing, silly." Illuet gives me a pained look, her ragged ribbons unfurling in her fur and most of her light folding back on herself to patch her wounds. Altair nods, holding his neck out front as he makes his way down the steps, and Illuet bounces after.

I slowly rotate my head back to Valora, standing directly under her imposing, incredible, likely-to-be-fatal-if-she-deemed-me-a-threat bulk. With winning showmanship, I say, "I do have one more question for you."

"And what would that be?" booms Valora.

"Birds," I say. "Your town is decorated with all kinds of birds."
"And your name is Hawk." she responds. "You would know a thing or two about birds, wouldn't you?"

"I'm... named after one. There's..." I stop myself short of saying anything incriminating, interesting, or otherwise likely to lead into conversation more about me than her. "...no way for most on-worlders to even know what a bird is."

"The town was founded by ex-Defenders. They were so confused and entranced by the idea of a non-Sentient, non-reasoning species that happened to have something so auspicious as wings that they set up the entire city around it. In some ways, it really is one large practical joke, because most who enter the city are appalled by our choice in decor. It's the beaks. Gives anyone in their right mind the creeps."

"I know," I exclaim. "They're terrifying. Terrifying and wicked sharp."

Valora laughs again, which is every bit as intimidating as it was the first time. "If you see any birds, you'll have to let me know. I'd be willing to give my left ear to meet one. Perhaps the rest of it, anyways... well. Don't let me keep you all day, Hawk."

I nod, moving backwards out of the room before muttering my gratitude and dashing out the door. It is entirely too colloquial in there not to be some kind of terrible trap. I walk the streets between armed Sentients and the sparser 'citizens', taking in the smells of the city, the stone, the faint allure of market food, the... smoke. My throat constricts and I feel myself grow faint. In mad panic, I dash to the building left of the ward, hardly able to register where I land, and slump into a den down the first hallway. Hyperventilating, I throw myself against the pillow and try to expel the smoke in my body. It doesn't help. Whatever is wrong with me is wrong all the way down to the bones. The fire flashes through my mind, fills my limbs, brings pain and sensation to every hair until I, too, am complicit in the consumption of a single seed, until I am dying with Cinnabar, the two of us burning to bits...

"Stop it. I didn't do anything." I beg, paws over my ears.

Not yet.

A hazy presence strides through the room, noticed only by the dust particles, which swing out of his way on their descent to the ground. A Canis lifts my head even to his, his greedy stare making all the heat that formerly resided in my body suddenly go cold. With a quick gulp, I say, "You're not here."
I'm here as you are. I'm part of you, aren't I?

I close my eyes. "We are not on speaking terms. I know you-- you had my body after I stole the Sorrows. You promised it would be a few heartbeats!"

I didn't control you that night. You did this to yourself. He drops me back to the ground, and my jaw hits the wood at tremendous speed. I bite my tongue, yelping as the fresh wound grows fresher still. Oh, chin up.

"It serves a particularly nice opportunity for you." My jowls peel back into a snarl and I scramble up to my paws.

Cassiver's expression shifts into that of the most cloying, fake pity one can imagine. Lifting a paw to his chest, he says without ever opening his mouth, I'm being entirely honest. Your addiction is yours and yours alone.

"Which one?" I ask.

A sound emanates from the back of my mind, echoing off the walls like a sharp object bouncing between several mirrors. I appreciate your humor. It will get us both through the difficult times to come. As you must know by now, I have things I'd like of you, and eventually, you're going to need to choose sides.

"No I won't."

Even if it's the right side? Even if you'd be a hero for killing Andulas?

"What? She's... she's definitely dead. Not that I killed her!"

I don't trust that. I want her head. Perhaps her bounty, too. We'll go from there.

My tongue is dry in my mouth. "But why..."

You said yourself you felt as if you knew her, did you not?

"She killed you, didn't she?"

Cassiver does not move. With quick forwards step, he knocks the herb bag from my back. It comes clean away, the magical strap undone by nothing (does it need reenchantment?) and the contents slumping on the floor. I find myself frozen as one of the Sorrows rolls out of the bag and across the wooden floor in a winding, disturbingly uncontrolled arc, and comes to curl at my paw. I can hear it breathing beneath the wooden shell.

Take it.

The seed levitates, rising as some visceral part of me demands power, and a thick coat of saliva covers my tongue. My body calls out to magic, to my liberation, and the other half is stuck. Rule one. Rule one! I can feel Cassiver trying to open our mouth, the seed just above my tongue, and I slam out of the way with all my will. Focusing all of my energy into my leg, I crumple down to one side, and Cassiver's grip on the other half of my body lasts long enough for him to reach out for the seed before I'm fully in control of myself again. "I can do good things-- without doing bad things to do them," I say. "I have rules. I don't kill. I don't steal. Anything I win, I... win."

You broke rule one when you took those seeds, he warns. Whatever completeness you seek within yourself by this pup's code barely masking your rampant, self-absorbed hedonism, let me assure you that it is perished.

Resentfully, I force him far back into the recesses of my mind as his consciousness will go. "I've warned you once to leave me be and I will do so again. You are not taking the code from me, you are not touching a hair on anyone's pelt, even Andalus's, and you are going to disappear very, very soon, so if you have anything else to say to me, it better be grovelling at my paws." My own limbs are shaking, but I refuse to submit to myself.

Dust falls through the air, catching no obstacle and settling gently on the ground. The sun shines bright and violent as ever upon a bustling city. Conversation teems in from outside, if hushed, like light through branches. My mouth is dry and the seed has rolled into a corner. I push it back into the bag, mumbling beneath my breath like I'm coaxing a pup into a bath. Guilt twists my heart, by now synonymous with the accompanying fear.

If you really wish to be rid of this, all of this, go throw them into the river. Plant them. Do anything but hold them in your own bag, Hawk. You could be free of any power they might give you and any guilt they cause you.

"Get out!" I scream, and the bag hits a wall with such force that I hear things inside snapping. My chest heaves, an ocean in my stomach, and I feel his grip encroaching on me. He's pulling at my ears, holding me by the neck, he's breathing for me, setting my heart out of time... "No, no, no, no..."

Nothing happens. I take one breath, then another, lower myself onto the floor, and keep breathing. I let the motion carry me from one moment to the next, the pit of fear in my stomach receding, and eventually I can come to the window and look outside. Even though they're open, I feel like someone has placed a thick wall of glass between the world and I, so that all smells are imperceptible and all the figures are blurred. I look pathetic. I feel like someone's going to bite my head off.

Altair.

Please be back soon.

---

The clatter of hooves on the floor finally breaks the meaningless patter of background noise. Altair enters alone, slowly deflating as he lowers himself to the ground. His leg is well bandaged and his coat smells like salves. Holding his head against the wall, he sighs, "Home."
My tail waves. "Thank goodness."

The verdant glint of his eyes in the pink light of the fading day is beautiful as his eyes fall on me. "Boring day, huh? I would have thought you'd go conning."

"Without you?" I say, "Not to mention both our bags with anything of any use."

"Oh. Sorry." Altair unbuttons them both, and kicks them into the corner. I position the herb bag alongside them. Despite their differences in size and structure, due to the jutting weapons and the relative scarcity of plants, the three of them are well-matched.

"Where's Illuet?"

"They want her to stay longer. Plugging her wounds like she's been doing is apparently very unhealthy and she may have caused haemo sediments in her own blood." Altair says.

"She did what?" I ask, in part out of concern and in part because I in no way followed any of it.

"She'll be fine, she just needs careful medical attention, likely followed by a few days bedrest. We can probably convince them to move her here... do you want her here? Never mind..."

"Yes," we say in unison.

"I didn't think you could tolerate anyone else." Altair laughs weekly.

"Are you jealous?" I say.

"Are you jealous?" Altair snorts, kicking me with one hoof. "Guess it's just us again. For the night."

"Don't be so dramatic about it." I scoff.

"Are you okay?"

I shake my head. "I'm not the one who was injured."

Altair nods. "I just meant... our lives have been a whirlwind of chaos lately."

"Always are. You getting cold hooves?" I ask, poking him.

"If I was, what would we do about it? You're my quickest road home," Altair pauses, "but to be frank? You are my home."

I put my head on his shoulder. His breath is soft and natural, and I know for the first time in hours that I am clinging onto something real. It's his breath that lulls me to sleep, despite my pacing heartbeat, and though I've never admitted it to him, it's his presence that makes the dim, dangerous, claustrophobic rooms of unfamiliar cities liveable for the sparse nights we inhabit their liminal space.

What were you thinking, trying to leave without him?

What are you ever thinking?

I awake in the middle of the night to find myself holding one of the Sorrows a critical hair's length from Altair's ear. The Fauna flaps his ear in his sleep, kicking out a leg that barely misses mine, and I broil beneath my fur, the message clear.

I've been allowed to live another day.