Moving to peer into the window, she watched as Soni and Wynn walked out of the door to the inn. They thanked the stable boys who had their horses out front, tipping them an extra copper each.
     Lyrael turned her attention to the inside of the inn and watched through the muddied window as Tsarra crouched in front of the fireplace. She seemed to fall into a trance, her eyes glazing over and Lyrael barely registered the whisper that fell from her lips.
     “Is Elys trustworthy?”
     The flames seemed to flicker in response and after a brief pause, a smile spread across Tsarra’s face. She stood and walked out the front door, stopping just before Soni and Wynn, who were checking the bags on their horses.
     “So?” Soni egged.
     Tsarra’s expression was smug. “Like I said, her devastation was too genuine for her to be lying about her father. She was telling the truth. The flames told me she is trustworthy.”
     Soni seemed exasperated as she rolled her eyes. “Did you ask if Elys is her?”
     “My magic is limited, Soni. I can only ask certain things and the flames dislike answering those kinds of questions.” Tsarra murmured and grabbed her horse’s lead rope. “I just asked if she is trustworthy, and she is. Isn’t that enough for you?”
     “What? You could’ve asked more specific questions. Like if she’s hiding something,” Soni snapped, growing more frustrated by the second. “It was the perfect moment to ask the flames. You won’t get a chance tonight when we stop to camp, unless she leaves to hunt again.”
     Lyrael agreed with Soni. Tsarra should have asked more prying questions. She wanted to know the answers to them.
     Why did Anwel, of all people, raise me? She thought, a pang of hurt flashing through her. She was still in denial. It was hard to believe that Anwel lied to her, and kept the truth from her. Was he ever going to tell me the truth? Or was he going to leave me in the dark for my entire life?
     Tsarra just shrugged. “I don’t know, Soni. My gut says Elys isn’t her and I trust my gut.”
     Soni scoffed as she gripped her horse’s lead rope and turned toward the market. “Whatever, Tsarra. You’re way too trusting for your own good. One day, that’s gonna bite all of us in the ass.” Soni paused and glanced back at them. “Next time, for all of our sakes, ask the important questions.”
     Wynn and Tsarra shared a knowing glance as they followed her. Tsarra sighed. “My flames don’t lie, Wynn. I believe Elys is trustworthy. At this point, I trust her enough to even tell her about our plans.”
     Wynn looked solemn as he stared at Tsarra, a small smile on his face.
     “Look, just because you trust her, doesn’t mean we do. You must understand Soni’s point of view...” Wynn explained, his voice fading as Lyrael darted past them, her footsteps silenced by her magic. She left them behind, flying past Soni and into the market, weaving through stalls and the elves milling around.
     She stepped inside the open door of a busy boutique and grabbed a black cloak with gold lining and a golden clasp at the neck. It seemed to also come with pants and a blouse with the same golden lines and markings as the cloak.
     Slipping inside one of the changing rooms, she unraveled the magic concealing her and blinked back into sight.
     I should really stop eavesdropping. It’s not very lady-like.

⋆˙⟡ ☾ 𖤓 ☽ ⟡˙⋆

     Lyrael examined her reflection once again, captivated by the golden hue of her unfamiliar eyes. She still couldn’t quite believe her newfound features. She marveled at the delicate strands of her light blue hair as she gently ran her fingers through them, feeling a newfound sense of awe. Her once coarse and tangled locks now cascaded like a waterfall of silk, each strand gliding effortlessly between her fingertips. The softness was almost surreal, a stark contrast to the rough texture she had grown accustomed to.
     She swiftly removed her bow and set against the wall, its familiar weight leaving her palm. Then she removed her black leather rucksack and shed her worn-out brown cloak, smiling when she remembered when she asked him for a cloak just like his for her birthday. And a few months later, he gave her this one.
     The tattered cloak, with its frayed edges and fading color, held the faint scent of their cottage. She lifted it to her nose, finding comfort in its scent. For a moment, she felt like she was back at home, mending her clothes like she always seemed to do, especially after a day of hunting, when she’d constantly get snagged on branches.
     She glanced at herself in the mirror, eyeing her simple tan tunic that she had sewn multiple hidden pockets into. Slipping her hand inside each one, she pulled out her two valuable items. The black pouch with the pendant from Anwel’s floorboard and a small skinning dagger which she spent a buck’s worth of money on last year.
     Eagerly, she reached for the new cloak, running her palm over the soft fur-lining of the cloak before pulling it on. Undoing the clasp of the cloak, she removed it from the wooden hanger it was on and laid it on the seat in the corner. The blouse had two layers sewn together, with the bottom layer made of golden silk and the top layer designed as a short black crop top with a v cut at the bottom. There were golden symbols that went vertically down the center of her chest and the wrist length sleeves of the blouse were half black and half gold, the black ending a little above her elbows.
     She removed her tan tunic and for a moment, all that she was left in was the white undershirt she wore beneath it. It was odd staring at herself now, as her skin was a completely different tone. Instead of a warm tan color, she was almost as white as her undershirt. Tossing her old tunic on top of her rucksack with the brief thought that she could use the material for something later, she began pulling on the new blouse.
     Next came the pants. She chucked off her old tan pants and threw them on top of her tunic. She pulled the blouse on first and then the pants. Finally, she pulled on the cloak, closing the golden clasp at her neck. She folded up her old clothes and rearranged her knapsack’s internals, placing the old clothes at the bottom of it and placing everything else on top. She shrugged back on her knapsack and grabbed her bow, hooking it on her shoulder.
     After a brief pause at the counter to pay for the new outfit, she walked out of the boutique, nearly bumping into Soni, who was reaching for the handle of the door.
     “Oh, hey! We were just looking for you.” Soni chimed, and Lyrael motioned back inside the boutique.
     “Sorry, I was just buying a new outfit. Mine was a little old and not very warm. You guys should look around,” Lyrael replied, looking between the three of them, frowning after a moment. “Is everything okay? You guys seem a little—”
     “We’re great! Sorry we took so long. I had to use the bathroom.” Tsarra chirped, cutting her off abruptly, threading her arm through Lyrael’s. “Why don’t we go look for some winter bedrolls, hmm? Ours aren’t equipped for the cold.”
     She mentally noted that Tsarra was a smooth liar. If she hadn’t seen it for herself, Lyrael probably would’ve believed her. “All good, and sure. Mine is good for the cold, but I’ll come with you, anyway.”
     “I’ll just buy your guy’s bedrolls, and you can just pay me back the coin. We’ll stop to buy Lyrael a horse and take the horses and meet you on the other side of the river.” Tsarra looked between Soni and Wynn, who shared a glance. “What are you guys needing?”
     “I think I need a new waterskin. Mine might have a leak.” Wynn answered quickly, holding up his waterskin, which looked empty, and Soni nodded.
     “Yeah, I don’t think I need anything else besides a better bedroll. I do not know why we didn’t pick one up when we left Blackfall.” Soni remarked with a shrug of her shoulders and then ushered Wynn down another path of the market.
     Together, Lyrael and Tsarra wandered through a section of the market, looking for a stall with bedrolls. Considering the time of year, someone had to be selling them.
They paused at a small stall selling food rations.
     “Oh, look over there.” Tsarra pointed to a stall across the way, one that seemed to have the exact thing they needed.
     “One pack of rations is five coppers.” The woman behind the stall smiled and Lyrael reached into the pouch on her belt, withdrawing ten coppers and dropping it in the waiting hand of the stall owner. She grabbed two ration packs from the table and pulled her rucksack from her back, opening it and dropping the ration packs in. She followed Tsarra across the market as she weaved through the crowd.
     “How much?” Tsarra’s voice was quiet in the lively market. This place sure comes to life in the day. It almost seemed like no one lived her last night.
     “One bedroll is two silvers.”
     Tsarra made a noise of surprise, reluctantly dropping six silvers into the stall owner’s hand and picked up three thick bedrolls. Considering she had a bedroll fit for the winter, she just smiled at the stall owner and looked away. Lyrael watched her attach each bedroll to the straps on the saddlebags on each horse. Then she grabbed a lead rope from two horses and continued leading them out of the market, letting Lyrael lead the other.
     On the way out, they stopped at a large pen with a few horses. Lyrael opened her pouch of coins as she stepped in front of a man sitting on the back of a wagon pulled by two horses.
     “Are these horses yours?” She motioned to the horses in the pen, and he nodded. “How much are they?”
     Personally, she felt like this was a fruitless purchase, but she had to do it to appease her new acquaintances.
     “Twenty-five silvers.”
     She eyed the three horses in the pen. There were two brown horses and one black horse. He smiled widely. “Which one would you like, miss?”
     She sighed and dropped two gold and five silvers into his palm. “The black one, please.”
     “Good choice. His name is Nightheart.”
     Lyrael watched as he hopped from the wagon and opened the gate, closing it behind him. He grabs the reins of the horse and leads him out of the pen, holding the reins out to her. She grabs the lead rope and holds her palm out, allowing the horse to come to her.
     “Hey there, boy.” She murmured when he pressed his nose to her palm. He whinnied loudly, and she rubbed her hand down the bridge of his nose, smiling. “Nightheart, huh?”
     He snorted softly, and she moved to his side, admired the black saddle and saddlebags on his back. “Is the saddle and bags included?” The man nodded, and she smiled, leading the horse away. “Thank you. Have a good day.”
     “Ready?” Tsarra asked with a smile and Lyrael nodded.
     Sliding her foot into the stirrup on Nightheart’s saddle, she swung her other leg over it until she settled on him. Tsarra attached the third horse’s lead rope to Nightheart’s saddle and then did the same to her own, attaching the fourth horse to her saddle.
     Then, they headed for the western side of the city, the bridge about twenty or so yards from them. Lyrael looked at the city behind them and then faced forward with a frown, finding it odd that the feeling that she had felt last night when the city was covered in a thick fog had vanished overnight.
     They were at the edge of the market when they heard yelling from behind them. Lyrael looked over her shoulder again and saw Wynn and Soni running through the crowd, pushing through people. And further behind them were the soldiers that were chasing them from the night before.
"Shit, it's them."