The morning sun stood high in the sky as Grahn, Hira, and Para set out for the village. Mokash’s condition had significantly improved, and his breathing was stabilizing. Not wanting to leave him unprotected, they reinforced the door with thicker wood before departing.

As they followed Para, they began to realize just how far he lived from the nearest settlement. After leaving the clearing behind, they reentered the dense forest once more. The journey took them through uneven terrain, dense shrubbery, and narrow dirt paths. It lay so far from the village that few ever ventured there without a good reason. The thought gnawed at them, raising questions which they knew weren't going to be answered anytime soon.

At first, Grahn and Hira remained on high alert, scanning for any danger. But Para reassured them, explaining that he often travelled this path. There used to be some animals, but even they had stopped appearing over time.

After some time, as they reached the top of a hill, Para stopped.

“There it is… Dawit.” He said, pointing toward a cluster of wooden buildings, each distinct in shape and size.

From the hill, the village looked small, leaving Hira and Grahn in awe. This was unlike their village, Shura. This village had fortified walls surrounding it and a thick gate for the entrance. The walls, made of sturdy wood with pointed tops, transitioned into solid stone near the gate. The gate itself was made of thick, dark-colored wood, reinforced with streaks of stone for added strength.

Shura was perched on a small cliff island, so isolated that walls or gates were never necessary—the sea itself served as its natural barrier. But Dawit, built inland, required protection.

As they descended toward the village, the trees around them started growing shorter, and the leaves were not as green as before; they had hints of brown on them. The soil beneath their feet grew firmer, while the tangy scent of salt faded, replaced by the earthy aroma of dust, livestock, and the occasional waft of cooking spices.

As they approached, they noticed the quiet rhythm of steps moving in and out of the village. A small, poorly built guard post stood nearby, but it was empty. With no one to stop them, the three easily entered the village.

The moment they stepped inside, the atmosphere completely changed. Dawit was alive with movement. Women were wearing long, frock dresses with vibrant colors. The majority of them had twin braids and three dots on their chin. They carried baskets of produce on their heads, their hips swaying with each step.

Stalls brimmed with multicolored vegetables, some unlike anything they had seen before. Their skins gleamed under the sunlight—deep purples, fiery oranges, and lush greens stacked in neat, vibrant piles, their rich fragrance thick in the air.

There were a few cages that had many different creatures in them. Some were familiar; others entirely foreign. Among them, a spider wolf prowled restlessly in its cage, its bright orange eyes locked onto them. Its dark gray fur bristled with tension.

Among the animals, one bird stood out, treated with unusual care. It was massive, nearly as long as an average man’s torso. Its pure white feathers faded into hints of blue at the tips, and even its sharp, elongated beak was ivory-white. Its large claws bore long, menacing nails. Though it remained still, its piercing eyes tracked every passerby with unwavering focus, a predator's gaze that missed nothing.

This was a Jatayi—a bird bred for messaging and renowned for its exceptional hunting skills. Incredibly strong and capable of flying vast distances at remarkable speeds, it was the perfect courier for messages sent far and wide.

There was also an animal they recognized—the tusked bison. Some were tethered to stumps, while others pulled carts with steady ease. Unlike their usual rugged demeanor, they were calm and well-behaved here, domesticated for farming in the village.

As they explored the village, Grahn and Hira’s attention was drawn to a group of men scattered through the streets. They were different than others— each carried a wooden shaft, and on their body was a thin leather armor. On their heads sat small, bucket-like helmets, which offered little actual protection. It was clear to them that these ‘soldiers’ aren’t warriors, but more enforcers. They were more suited for beating someone in the village rather than engaging in real combat.

Para walked between them, fidgeting. Tension clung to him the moment they arrived—his eyes darted to every passerby, his hands repeatedly tugging at the hood of his cloak. Grahn and Hira noticed his subtle efforts to shrink into their shadows, using their broad frames as a shield.

Hira put his hands on Para’s back and gently spoke, “You’re safe with us.”

Para was startled, he glanced at him and nodded, “Y-Yes…”

The village was bigger than Shura, but it wasn't organized properly. Homes and markets were jumbled together, many people had stalls right in front of their homes.

Their funds were limited, so they had to barter as much as they could, and under Para’s guidance, they prioritized staple grains and vegetables over luxuries. Grahn and Hira’s scary physique offered them a lot of help to bring down the prices, a tactic that earned them wary but reluctant compliance.

They were almost done with shopping, carrying jute-woven bags and strolling through the stalls and alleys, when a voice called them from behind.

“Para?”

An old woman’s voice rang out. The three jolted to a stop.

Para was terrified—his face went pale, sweat beading on his forehead. His lips began to tremble, and a soft, barely perceptible mumble escaped his mouth.

“It is Para… right?” The voice called out again.

Para slowly turned around.

His tensed expression softened instantly, relief flooding through him.

Before them stood an old lady, dressed in a long, multicolored frock. Delicate, dangling earrings adorned her ears, and her long, silver hair flowed gracefully down her back.

She regarded them with warm, light blue eyes, her smile the kindest Grahn and Hira had ever seen, accentuated by the three dots on her chin.

“I knew it was you, Para. Are they your friends?” The old woman asked.