Reid picked up the black pouch with a quiet surety, brushing off the last of the cobwebs. It was heavier than it looked. Or maybe it only felt that way in his hand—like it was waiting for him.

The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow. "That one? You really want it?"

"It's the only one that looked back," Reid said, voice low. The pouch in his hand felt strangely familiar yet he had never seen it before.

Never.... he thought...an ambiguous word for a person with no memories. 

The man scratched his chin. "Odd thing, no elk ever claimed it."

Reid didn't believe that. Not for a second. He could feel it. A lurking presence in the shadow silently watching over the thing in his hand.

"Maybe it didn't want to be paraded in cages," He said. "Maybe it wanted to choose."

The man looked at him, thoughtfully this time. "You talk like you've done this before."

"I haven't," Reid replied, eyes on the pouch. "But I know when I want something."

A silence passed between them.

"If you believe that, sure. Don't come to back to me later. We have a strict 'No Return' policy here"

Whatever, Reid shrugged.

"Twenty coins. That's my best price."

Reid didn't flinch. He pulled the gold from his bag and counted it out on the counter. "Deal."

As the man wrapped the pouch carefully in cloth, Reid could feel it again—that unseen breath at his shoulder.

Watching. Approving.

The Elk, if that's what it was, had chosen.

Coins secured, he stepped out into the cloudy street, thoughts already drifting to food and rest. First, a warm lunch. Then he'd buy a horse. Then Aldor—two days on horseback, if the roads were kind.

As Reid walked the slanted streets of Grinholt, the grey clouds overhead casting a perpetual dusk, he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Shadows seemed to shift just beyond his vision, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

He glanced over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of a small, dark figure darting into an alleyway. It was quick, almost too quick to be real. But he knew it was there. 

He reached the inn just as the wind picked up, carrying the scent of distant rain. Inside, the common room was warmer, brighter. He was halfway to the kitchen when a cheerful voice called out.

"You're the one from the ring!"

Reid turned. A young man, barely seventeen, bounced up to him with wide eyes and a grin that didn't know how to quit. He wore a travel-stained coat and had a pouch that jingled too loudly to be careful.

"I saw you fight," the boy said. "You were... gods, I've never seen anyone move like that! You were like a storm!"

Reid offered a small smile. "Glad you enjoyed the show."

"I'm Tarron," the boy said quickly. "I came to the arena to find a guard. I am headed to Aldor—merchant, you see. But it's a rough road. And now that I've seen you fight…"

His eyes sparkled. Hopeful.

"Would you escort me to Aldor? I'll pay—ten coins. I'll even cover the town fees and meals!"

Reid was about to decline the offer when an idea bloomed in his head.

Reid raised an eyebrow. "Your father a Xaldes?"

Tarron laughed. "I wish. We're just Marchios—barely. My father bought the rank last season. We've been scraping ever since to hold onto it."

Reid's mind was already doing the math. Ten more coins. Covered meals. A way out of town with someone who had something to lose. He gave a nod.

"Alright. I leave at dawn."

"I'll be here!" Tarron beamed. "I'll make sure everything's ready."

As they sat for lunch—paid by Tarron, of course—Reid kept glancing over his shoulder. He still caught glimpses of that lurking presence. A small black creature, no bigger than a loaf of bread. Round glassy eyes. Thin limbs. Every time he turned, it vanished. But he could feel it following.

After the meal, Reid left for the stables. It took all of fifteen minutes to spot what he was looking for—a white stallion, strong-legged and sharp-eyed. Cost him another ten coins, but it was worth it. He saddled up, fed the beast, and rode quietly out of town.

He needed space. Somewhere far from prying eyes. Somewhere to think.