As they entered the village, the scope of it stretched beyond the humble cluster of cottages and farms they had seen at their last stop. The main thoroughfare was bustling, with vendors calling out the merits of their goods and children darting between the legs of busy townsfolk. Theory couldn't help but notice the robust energy that seemed to permeate the air—a stark contrast to the eerie quiet they'd left behind with the fallen Kappa.

A wooden sign adorned with a painted bed and a frothy mug swung in the gentle breeze, marking the inn they approached. Its large double doors were thrown open, inviting patrons into its warm embrace. As they stepped into the lobby, a hawk Shifter male greeted them from behind the counter. 

The innkeeper's bird-like gaze scrutinized them briefly. Theory worried for a moment that his stare  would snag on the edges of their disguise. A bird Shifter’s sight was nothing to scoff at. But while slightly suspicious, the innkeeper only continued to wash the bowl with a rag, giving us a small nod in welcome.

"We'll be needing two rooms, if you have them," Theory stated clearly, meeting the shifter's sharp gaze with an unwavering one of his own. "And information on where we might purchase a horse. Our travels are urgent."

The innkeeper scanned them, his expression unreadable, then scratched a note in his ledger with a quill that seemed like a mere extension of his own feathered appendages. "Two rooms I have, and as for a horse, old Berta down the way might part with one of hers for the right coin."

"Thank you," Theory said, the corners of his mouth tipping upward in a half-smile of appreciation.

         The innkeeper nodded, but didn’t say a word. His eyes roved over the pair one more time before giving them their room key. Theory supposed they were on their own with directions. 

They found old Berta, a wiry female with hands as rough as the bark of the trees, ready to negotiate. She led them to a paddock where a couple of sturdy-looking horses grazed.

"This one's a runner," she said, patting the flank of a strong bay mare. "And the gelding there, he's steady, good for long distances."

Niro approached the mare, his manner softening as he offered the horse a gentle pat on the neck. The animal nickered, pressing its nose into his palm. The exchange of coin was quick, and Niro led the horse away with an ease that spoke of long familiarity.

With their lodgings secured, Theory found himself ensconced in the lively warmth of the inn’s tavern come evening. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of ale and roasted meat, and the air vibrated with the hum of collected voices. He settled into the corner of the tavern, his posture relaxed but eyes ever watchful, scanning the room for signs of unrest or whispers of local news. He hoped to catch snippets of information that could illuminate the Kappa's warning or at least distract from the unease that warning had instilled in him. Niro, surprisingly, took the seat opposite him, his presence an unspoken guard.

Niro’s silent presence at the table was a surprise, but Theory neither acknowledged it nor shunned it. They ate in a bubble of isolation until Theory, unable to curb his burgeoning curiosity, broached the subject that had been gnawing at him.

"I didn't take you for one to mingle," Theory remarked, keeping his tone light.

Niro's reply was a grunt as he surveyed the room, his gaze eventually settling back on Theory. They sat in silence, the air between them laden with unspoken tension.

Theory couldn't shake the image of Niro, the dangerous glint in his eye during Theory's heat. "Why did you help me back there?" Theory finally asked, his curiosity overcoming his pride.

Niro stiffened, a defensive shadow crossing his features. "You were in no state to fend for yourself," he replied curtly.

"But you showed... care. That's not like you," Theory pressed, ignoring the prickling sensation warning him to tread lightly.

The warrior's eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward slightly, his voice a low growl. "We have a mission to complete. Your well-being is necessary for that, nothing more."

Interesting, coming from the male who said Theory was an unnecessary liability. The whole reason the Breeder’s coin pouch was still resting snuggly beside his own. 

Though Theory wasn't convinced, he knew Niro wouldn’t give in. The look in his eyes had been far from cold or calculated; it had been something warmer, something that didn't quite fit the warrior's stoic facade.

"What was that... inside you? When you restrained me, it felt like something else was there with us," Theory asked, eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to pierce through Niro’s ever-present armor.

Niro's reaction was immediate; his body tensed, and the look in his eyes was akin to the flaring of a shadow. "That's none of your concern," he spat, a tinge of warning coloring his tone.

"But it is, when that... darkness seemed just as intent on satiating me as you were," Theory countered, his voice low and probing.

The flicker of something unidentifiable crossed Niro's features, something that could have been irritation or perhaps fear. "You think too much. It's nothing," Niro growled, but his eyes betrayed him, darting away from Theory’s persistent gaze.

Theory didn’t press, he got a little of what he wanted. Or at least, the confirmation that he needed. There was something in him, something bottomless, powerful, angry.

As they ate, Theory listened to the surrounding conversations, his ears sifting through the mundane chatter for anything out of place. Talk of crop yields and the latest gossip about the blacksmith's apprentice filled the air, but nothing pointed to the troubles they had encountered on the road.

It was only as the room began to clear, the hora growing late, that Theory caught the tail end of a conversation from a pair of villagers in the corner.

"...ain't natural, I tell ya. Creatures actin' all sorts of crazy. It's like they're bein' pushed out of the forests."

Theory and Niro exchanged a glance, the weight of the Kappa's message settling heavily between them. It seemed the unrest was not limited to water creatures but was a ripple effect felt throughout the land's fauna.

         The evening waned and their conversation dwindled to a series of sharp looks and half-starts. In the midst of their quiet contention, Theory’s attention drifted across the room, only to snag on a silhouette that struck a chord of recognition in his memory, threading through the crowded patrons, right out the front door.

         Without thinking, Theory reached across the table, his fingers wrapping around Niro's wrist. "Do you see—"

         He couldn’t finish that thought, instead, lept to his feet and moved with purpose. 

         He had to be wrong.

         No, he’d recognize that purple tinsel hair anywhere. Fae stood out no matter where they went. 

Theory's instincts screamed at him to chase after the fae's fleeting shadow, a darting silhouette that teased the edges of the crowd like a whispered secret. "That's the fae from before," he muttered, more to himself than to Niro, as his legs tensed to pursue.

"What are the odds?" Theory thought, his mind racing with the impossibility of their paths crossing again in such a manner. But as quickly as he spotted the fae, they dissolved into the throng of bodies, as though they were never there.

A murmur swelled into a roar, and Theory's attention snapped to a group gathering around a figure whose voice was loud and carried the sharp edge of panic and fervor. A preaching nymph stood atop a crate, his voice cascading over the crowd.

"The wild hunt stirs, my friends! And who is blamed? We, the nymphs, stand accused of vile deeds we have not done! The gods turn their eyes away from us!"

The words were like sparks flying dangerously close to tinder. Theory could almost smell the smoke of chaos that threatened to ignite with such reckless claims.

He turned back to the inn, unease churning within him, and as they entered the quiet hallway, a sudden stumble from Niro broke the stillness. Niro grasped his forehead, covering one eye, his body language screaming urgency.

"We need to leave. Now," Niro gasped, his voice strained with an undercurrent of pain—or was it fear?

Theory opened his mouth to protest, the idea of venturing into the dark night seeming like a fool's errand, but the words died in his throat. Niro faced him, one eye a normal green, the other glowing ominously, an abyssal red that seemed to harbor the storm of something wild and uncontrollable.

"Now," Niro repeated, his voice barely a growl, pushing past Theory with a determination that brooked no argument.

The urgency in Niro's voice, the raw edge of command, left no room for debate. Theory gathered their scant belongings, the sense of impending danger making his hands move with swift precision. Something was happening, a thread of fate pulling tight, and they were in the thick of it. Whether it was the gods, the wild hunt, or something far more sinister, the night ahead promised no safety, only the unknown.

With an air of urgency wrapping around them like a cloak, Theory and Niro made their hasty departure from the village. They mounted their horses, the animals sensing the tension and trotting out with alert ears and wide eyes. As they galloped into the night, the rhythmic pounding of hooves on the earth matched the frenetic beating of Theory’s heart.

Niro rode ahead, a dark silhouette against the lesser darkness, his posture rigid, wrestling with the inner turmoil that sought to overtake him. His struggle was a silent one, but Theory, with a glance, could see the clench of Niro's jaw and the stiff set of his shoulders. The glowing eye, now hidden beneath a swath of black hair, served as a beacon of the battle raging within.

They pressed on, the urgency never waning, stopping only when the horses' sides heaved and their breaths came out in steamy, exhausted puffs. Underneath a starless sky, they allowed their steeds brief respite, but the anxiety that hung between the two men permitted no such rest for themselves.

As they neared the border of Faltaire, the first fingers of dawn were stretching across the horizon, casting long shadows on the ground. Unbeknownst to them, these shadows melded with others that were not their own. Eyes, glinting with intentions concealed, followed from a distance, tracking their every move.

The land of Faltaire welcomed them with its silent, majestic forests and the whisper of leaves dancing to the tune of the early rising breeze. Yet, neither Theory nor Niro could shake off the lingering sensation of being watched. It clung to them, as palpable as the sweat on their brows and the dirt on their cloaks.

In the growing light, Theory cast a glance over his shoulder, the nape of his neck prickling with the instinctual alertness of one accustomed to being hunted. But there was nothing—only the winding path they had traversed and the occasional bird heralding the new day with its song.

Niro, with a hand occasionally drifting to the pendant at his neck, seemed to carry the weight of their unseen pursuers in his grim expression. They communicated in short, terse nods and the occasional murmur, a language born of necessity and caution.

Yet, as they crossed into Faltaire's embrace, the true nature of their followers remained shrouded in mystery, just like the darkness that simmered within Niro, waiting, ever patient, for its moment to surface.