Arna let Neri drag her down streets, past market stalls, into creaking and dust-filled houses, trading for clothes and supplies. Men shouted over browning fruits and sprouting vegetables, flies buzzed over red meat on slates, a line of children waited at a boiling pot of grey soup. Atsylei was a busy city and yet it still seemed quiet in comparison to the cities of the past. It paled next to the capitals that Arna remembered; it was a city of trade and guilds, yet everything was salvage and had travelled miles to reach the market stalls and shops. Voices bartered and whispered, planned or surmised. Cries and laughter rang, born of delight or derived from sorrow. Daylight gleamed against this momentary present, but it did not quite chase the lurking past away. Atsylei was as normal as humanity could achieve, yet the fear of losing their place, their family and friends, of simply being turned away at the gates haunted every breath and step.

Arna was supposed to be the saviour of mankind, and yet their last stand was just as much a trap for her as it was a cage to keep out the smog of disease and violent cruelty of the outside. She sensed the underlying deceit, the fake orderly smiles, the watchful gaze of guards. She heard the sobbing woman still begging to be let into the city, still choking on her own breath, wailing for her son. She would not last until dusk.

“This suits you.” Neri pressed a musky-scented black cloak against Arna, sizing it up against her body. It was cleaner and less damaged than the one she currently wore, and it would safely conceal the skull and any belongings she carried.

“I already have the one you gave me,” she said, gently pushing the warrior’s hands away.

“It’s falling apart,” she dismissed with a shake of her head. “I’m getting you this. No arguments.”

The final shred of her last assignment left her bag and passed to the stall owner, and the new cloak lay in Arna’s arms. Neri then led her back to the barracks where they gathered their supplies for the trip to come and changed into their new clothing.

Neri had bought her two outfits – both a match of trousers and shirt, but one fit for warmer weather and the other for colder. She put on the looser outfit, the trousers thin material and the shirt short sleeved, and slung her new bag across her shoulders before finally donning her new cloak. She stuffed the other outfit, a water bottle, and a stack of dried meat into the bag. It was strange to have things of her own, to have belongings that wouldn’t be ripped out of her grasp by the same person who had given them to her.

“Ah! There you are!” a gruff voice boomed, the blanket covering Neri’s doorway pulling back sharply to reveal Jaako’s looming figure, his helm tucked under his arm. “I caught you before you left.”

Arna turned her face away, tugging the hood down. Neri had only just finished fastening her armour in place over her own clean clothes, and she grinned at the man’s presence. “Jaako! Do you need us for something?”

The man glanced at Arna, his smile dropping slightly. “Well, I’ve spoken to the guild masters and they couldn’t care less as long as your companion doesn’t get you killed.”

Arna flinched.

“But I wanted to invite you to Pegasus before you left,” he continued, his grin and focus returning to Neri. “For old time’s sake.”

Neri exhaled, long and hard. “Pegasus…It’s been years.”

Jaako backed out of the doorway, a large hand motioning outward in a welcoming gesture. “Exactly. So, what d’you say?”

Neri laughed, clapping her hands together and a mischievous smirk curling her lips. “First to three wins, loser buys,” she challenged.

“Done.”

Pegasus was situated in the more rundown part of the city, likely where Atsylei had initially begun from a mere camp atop a cliff edge. Bricks and stone were less seen here, instead scraps of cloth, decayed wood, and literal carcasses of the past built the homes and furnishings.

Pegasus sat at an angle, a clear landmark in an open courtyard surrounded by flimsy holdings of canvas roofs. A proud remnant of history, the fuselage of the plane was snapped in two like a twig, opened up with both halves laid to rest as an offering. The outside was rusted and flaking white, the lines of windows broken and blackened with aged smoke. The rows of seats inside had been ripped out and positioned around wooden crates used for tables, each decorated with a wavering lantern for light. At the end of one half, the cockpit had been remodelled as a bar with two wiry haired men pouring and serving drinks into beaten tankards and bowls. The other half of the plane sat slightly higher, the bright yellow tailfin a sheening sign in the falling sunlight with the red lettering the bar’s namesake. Pegasus.

They approached the bar, the floor bouncing underfoot, and almost immediately three refashioned paint cans thudded down in front of them. One of the men sniffled, leaning forwards with one hand poised over a duo of taps beneath the bar.

“What will it be?” he asked, his other hand already out for payment.

“Six Pilot shots, loser buys,” answered Neri. “And a Jet Engine for my friend here.”

Arna blinked as the man roughly pushed one of the paint cans forwards, a tap gurgling yellow-tinged liquid into it. She took it, sniffing it suspiciously and cringing at the foul, acidic smell. It definitely looked like jet fuel and it probably tasted like envenomed alcohol mixed with dirt.

The other two paint cans vanished, replaced with a line of six thimble-sized cups of mismatched designs. The sniffling man pivoted the second tap over them to shoot a sharp jolt of vivid blue liquid into each. He waited.

“You better honour your bet,” Jaako warned, his huge hand engulfing a cup and swinging the bright drink down. He gasped and immediately went for a second.

Neri was already placing her second thimble back on the bar. “Oh, sure, old man.”

He chuckled, and they both reached for their third.

Whatever the ‘Pilot shots’ were, they were most likely the dregs of the past some fool had deemed safe – or rather, enjoyable – to drink. Jaako spat the blue liquid out, his breathing haggard and raspy. “That stuff burns,” he hissed, a bear paw of a hand clasped around his throat.

Neri calmly licked the blue off her lips, putting the thimble down. “You’re getting weak in your old age, Jaako,” she teased, raising an eyebrow at the barman. Arna could hear her heart thundering in her chest, likely her own throat burning with whatever ultraviolet poison they’d swallowed.

The sniffling man turned to Jaako, hand outstretched.

“Fine, fine.” He slammed down a fistful of nuts and bolts on the bar. “Give us those cans again – I need water.”

The barman dropped the payment into a bucket before handing over the two paint cans. “The trough outside-”

“I know, I know,” Jaako interrupted, spitting more blue at his feet. “Neri, do the honours while I grab a table.”

The women sighed, picking up the cans and turning away. Arna immediately went to follow but large fingers curled around her wrist, holding her back. She flinched, snapping her head around to meet Jaako’s intense stare.

“The water trough is just outside, she’ll be back,” he said, not kindly. Instead, his voice was sharp and judging, edged with suspicion and gritted with quiet hostility. “Let’s sit down.”

They sat in the other half of the plane, the surrounding tables empty and the nearest people being two whispering men discussing the ‘new power windmills of Shkhan’ who barely noticed them.

Arna perched on the corner of her seat, eyes glancing towards the courtyard for Neri, her hands cupping the paint can of foul poison but she made no move to drink from it.

Jaako placed his helm on the table and leaned back into his tattered seat, his own gaze never straying far from her. He tapped the table with one large finger. “Now, Neri obviously trusts you and I trust Neri. The guild masters took my word and agreed for you to be her travel companion, however…” He struck his palm down against the crate top to fully capture her attention. “I don’t trust you, not one bit.”

The atmosphere crackled as he stared into the darkness of her hood, analysing her once more. “I see,” Arna simply said, waiting.

His hand curled into a fist. “You don’t show your face, you’re obviously hiding something, and there’s something unnatural about you. I don’t trust you, but you’ve got under Neri’s skin. What’s your plan here?”

She lifted her chin slightly, meeting his gaze. He eyed the fangs, catching a glimpse of the skull beneath the hood. “My plan? I don’t have a plan.”

“What do you want from Neri?”

“To stay with her,” came her quick response, the words escaping her lips before she could stop them. It was the truth, but it wasn’t the answer he was looking for.

Nor was it what he expected. He blinked, surprised, his fist spreading out to slowly drum his fingers on the table. He looked away and Arna followed his gaze. Neri was approaching them, paint cans in hand with a warm smile on her face.

“Arna,” Jaako said, his voice low and hushed. “You have her back and you don’t hurt her, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied, easily.

His lips twitched, a hint of amusement amidst the mistrust. Neri reached the table and passed a paint can of water to him. “You have an interesting companion,” he told the warrior.

Neri laughed as she took a seat. “I can’t argue with that.”

They threw back the water and slammed the cans down simultaneously, wiping moisture from their mouths. Jaako lifted his helm, tucking it into the crux of his elbow as he stood, holding out his other arm towards Neri.

“You’re leaving?” she asked, standing to accept his bone-crushing hug.

“It’s nearly time for you to be going,” he reminded her. “And I think I got what I wanted.”

Neri frowned at that, but wished him farewell without question. “I’ll see you next time.”

He nodded at her and Arna in turn. “Next time.” Each step thundered on the plane floor as he strolled out into the courtyard, disappearing under the canvas and down the street.

Neri turned to Arna. “You okay?”

Arna put her drink on the table, untouched, and rose to her feet. “Jaako truly cares for you.”

The warrior reached out a hand for the shapeshifter to take, walking away from Pegasus side by side. “He said something, didn’t he? I should have known when he sent me to get the water.”

“Not everyone is as trusting as you are.”

Neri gave her a strange look. “You saved my life and then I pointed a sword at you.”

“Not surprising when considering the situation.”

“Trust comes with time and with proving yourself – you’ve done that with me. Jaako is just…he likes to see if you can hold your own, see if you’ll crumble when he does his ‘big scary man’ routine.”

Arna’s brow furrowed. “He’s done that before?”

A blush dusted her cheeks and she looked away. “Well, I mean, I’ve never had a companion on an assignment before. But yes, he has.”

They checked they had all their belongings with them before they began the final walk through Atsylei. The city was already shutting up for the evening, stalls packing away and people migrating behind closed doors, be it made of cloth or wood. The guards at the gate wielded lanterns, lighting small torches which flared and brightened up the darkening city walls.

A group of three were already there. They carried huge rucksacks on their backs, smaller sacks hanging from hooks on their belts and around their necks. A stocky horse stood with them, it too weighted down with bags.

A tall, skinny man spotted their approach. “Are you the warrior who’s to be our escort?”

Neri bowed her head. “I’m Neri of the Warrior’s Guild and this is my companion, Arna. We are to escort your caravan to your destination.”

The man nodded. “I’m Eduard.” He gestured to the woman and man beside him. “This is Magna and Ruben. We’re grateful you accepted the assignment.”

Neri greeted them with a professional smile while Arna only provided a slight nod of acknowledgment, uneasy and tense. The warrior took one of the lit torches from a guard, motioning for the gate to rise. “Shall we get moving?”

They left the city, the gate clanging behind them as they walked into the grey of dusk, an orange cloud glimmering on metal as the sun fell below the horizon. Eduard led the caravan with the bald man named Ruben, while Magna held the horse reins behind them. Neri and Arna followed, the warrior’s eyes flickering between each rock and shadow, her sword arm poised at her waist. Neri and Eduard carried torches, the flames dancing circles of light at the front and back of the group as they trekked the path down the cliff.

Once at the bottom, they extinguished the torches and let the growing starlight lead them as they moved further east. The hairs on the back of Arna’s neck stood up at the thought of returning to her homeland, prickling down her spine, but she shook it away. They wouldn’t go that far east, they wouldn’t venture any further than required, they wouldn’t reach into the past.

Neri lifted her hand off the hilt of her sword, her fingers gently catching Arna’s. “The night will cover us,” she whispered. “Don’t worry.”

Arna wanted to tell her that the raiders hiding just out of sight weren’t what made her shiver, but maybe the warrior knew that already. Maybe she was truly speaking to herself, because through their intertwined fingers she sensed the fear steadily seizing the woman’s heart. She squeezed her hand, shifting closer so their shoulders touched as they walked deeper into the night.