Flisety made a few easy turns, sparing the decorated houses little more than a passing glance, and before she knew it she was rounding a bend to see a pair of familiar forms.
“It worked!” came Kalia’s voice from down the street, pitched high with delight. Grinning back at her, Flisety quickened her step.
She noticed that the shelters had grown less polished, their decorations a little more scruffy. The cobbles became more spaced out and interspersed with trodden dirt. But as she approached further, that wasn’t what caught her attention. Just beyond Mak and Kalia, a tangle of wooden platforms occupied the street, each packed with a colourful assortment of objects: fresh cuttings of meat, delicate vials swimming with liquid, and what appeared to be claw-carved jewellery. A sea of wolves weaved between them.
She couldn’t tear her eyes away even as she slowed to a stop. Her gaze drifted over Kalia’s shoulder. “What is this?”
Kalia released a sound somewhere between a giggle and a squeal. “The market.” Her tail whipped behind her. “It only happens once a cyluh, so you arrived at just the right time. Wolves across all the rings can hire a stall and sell… well, whatever they like, but it’s mostly stuff they’ve made.” She backed up to stand beside Flisety, excitement seeming to vibrate through her where their flanks touched. “What do you think?”
“It looks amazing.” Nothing like this had ever happened in Borelton. Perhaps if she ever went back to visit, she would have to recommend they started their own market.
Kalia made to move forward, but Flisety nudged her back as a question sprung to her tongue. “But how do you buy any of it? Is there a currency or something?” She’d heard a couple of the eastern towns had started using gold coins in order to pay for produce, but it was still a relatively new idea and quite an unfair one to most. Then again, from what she’d seen of Lunerda, unfairness shouldn’t surprise her.
“It’s mostly trade. Either you bring stuff to exchange, or the stall-keepers just trade with each other.” Kalia shrugged, but her paws twitched, her high spirits maintained. “I mostly come to look around.”
“And to see if there’s any willing to trade for nothing,” Mak said with a chuckle behind her. She countered with a kick to his forepaw and then sped off into the bustle of the market before he could retaliate.
He followed more slowly, and Flisety joined him, though her attention remained fixed on Kalia’s form zipping between stalls. Staying still was certainly a rare occurrence for her regardless, but now it seemed impossible for her paws to even halt for the briefest of moments. A smile touched Flisety’s snout.
It only grew as she surveyed the rest of the crowded wolves. She couldn’t tell for sure if wolves of all rings were here, but it certainly seemed like it. The stalls seemed varied enough, too, ranging from sparkling gems to miniature wooden models. There really was a prize for everyone, and it was incredible to witness. Finally, Lunerda was doing something right.
“There’s a reason why they hold it on the border between the Adita and Ander Ring,” Mak murmured, presumably noticing her expression. “It’s supposed to be accessible.”
“I bet some don’t like that,” she muttered back before she could stop herself. But Mak didn’t appear taken aback. He just shook his head slowly.
“Garel isn’t overly keen, but enough of his Adita friends like it that he allows it to stay.” He sighed. “Rowtag worries me, though. He’s a little less--”
His snout snapped shut so abruptly that Flisety’s head jerked upright. It took her a moment of confusion before she realised Mak’s stare was focused on Kalia, who was bounding back towards them. The tension dropped from his shoulders as he stepped away from Flisety, as if trying to detach himself from the brief conversation.
She shook out her fur, trying to dislodge the sudden sense that again, they were hiding something from her. Mak was most likely trying to protect Kalia from the doubts he felt. As Flisety caught the sparkle in Kalia’s eyes, she could perfectly understand wanting to preserve that eager energy.
“I found something pretty!” she exclaimed, as if she was announcing a ground-breaking new discovery.
“So did I,” Mak countered with a playful tilt of his head, prodding his paw at her chest. She batted it away.
“Shut up,” she protested, but a smile tugged at her snout. “Come look!”
She raced away, dodging through the crowd with surprising ease. Mak was right behind her. Flisety had to force her way past a couple of wolves in her hurry, throwing out apologies whenever she bumped into somebody. She didn’t wait around to check if she’d caused any offence. The last thing she needed was to cause another fight.
Finally, she stumbled to a stop behind Kalia, peering around her to catch a glimpse of the stall they’d rushed to so quickly. A lithe Mystwylf watched over a selection of twinkling red trinkets. Flisety leaned further forward, and a gasp escaped her. They were rubies.
“Pretty, right?” Kalia shifted sideways, allowing Flisety to slide in beside her and Mak.
Flisety nodded, her breath snatched away. They were actual, polished rubies, and sizable ones at that. A few leather bands similar to Kalia’s, but lacking in the pink dye, were adorned with a trio of gems. A larger ring of material formed a necklace with a ruby curved like the crescent moon hung at the end. Several rubies also sat alone, some melded into shapes while others simply glistened, bare jewels dazzling enough without any addition.
Carefully, she took a step forward, particularly fascinated by one gem shaped into a remarkably precise wolf. Before she could get a good look, she caught the Mystwylf’s stare, and flinched back. His head tilted upwards in a haughty manner.
“Have you anything to trade?” he snapped.
While Flisety hesitated, caught between uncertain fear and a surge of anger, Kalia spoke up. “No, sorry,” she said, ducking her head. “We only came to have a look. Your jewellery is so--”
“Then look from a distance.” He flicked his tail towards the edge of the market. “You’re cramping my stall. Let those more worthy come close.”
“Sorry,” Kalia muttered again, Mak already guiding her away. His eyes were smouldering coals, but he stayed silent. Forcing herself not to glance back at the Mystwylf, Flisety followed, her fangs clenched.
Their progress was swift as before, but it was less of an eager scramble and more of a steady march, as if fighting the tide that pulled them back towards the stall. Flisety was glad for the strong way Mak led them. His gaze remained fixed on the ground as he shouldered his way through the crowd.
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