As night fell on the small wilderness outside of the city, Auberon was still bothered by the sounds of the Outworlder vehicles traveling in the distance. He supposed it couldn’t be helped. Nonetheless, he’d managed to find a small, undisturbed clearing in the woods not far from one of the trails. He was thankful that as night fell, the number of Outworlders walking those trails dwindled to the point of nothingness.

He put another shirt on that he’d taken from the dwelling he’d slept in the night before for warmth. He’d thought about starting a fire, but didn’t have so much as sliver of flint, nor had he been able to find any. He figured he could fashion a bow drill, but then he was concerned about the light possibly being seen from the trail. There was no scent of smoke in the air, and the dryness of the ground made him realize a fire would be unwise.

So instead, he lay with his back up against a tree, curled up for warmth as he looked up toward the sky.

The night sky was nothing like Embrayya’s. So few stars to light the night. The lack of the blue-green ribbons of the Path of the Veil made it mostly unremarkable. Despite its dullness, however, he did notice a strangeness to the Outworlder sky at night. Mostly, in terms of traveling stars.

Not falling stars. Not the type that exploded into a multitude of colors in the night sky, and not even the ones he’d heard tell could actually strike the ground itself– but slowly-moving stars that traveled in a straight path across the sky.

He’d seen several types of them in just a short period of time. Quicker ones, slower ones. Several that even blinked on and off– like the lights he’d seen in the Outworlder’s city.

He dismissed the idea that the Outworlders had anything to do with the lights. It was higher than even the legends among Empyrean Riders would ever dare, where the air would be far too thin to even breathe.

But then, the world he was now in played by different rules. They were clever, he could give them that. Their machines and their engineering was far beyond Embrayya– perhaps even further beyond than the tinker-men of Dasha’an across the sea.

He eventually closed his eyes and buried his face into his knees. It would not be a comfortable sleep, but he’d need his energy for the next day, particularly if he was to go up the distant mountain.

His mind was not his friend that evening. Doubt crept in from every direction. Despite his luck in discovering how to use the sky-train, the signs of Outworlder civilization spread up into the very wilderness he sought to escape to. From the distance, he could see the canopy of trees all over the mountains– but what of what lay beneath that canopy? More Outworlders? Was that world, then, nothing more than an endless city with small wildernesses left alone for what– so Outworlders could pretend to be one with nature while living in their grey brick buildings that touched the sky?

What else could he do then, but move onward in faltering hope that he would find a place to be at peace while he gathered himself?

A sudden noise broke his attention. He’d heard many– mostly animals in the underbrush. He’d seen at least one wild dog moving past him en route to some other place. It didn’t even notice him at the time.

But this noise was something else– a voice. A gruff one, accompanied by at least two others. It was coming from the trail.

Auberon tilted his head to where he could hear it clearly. The three voices suddenly became more intense, prompting Auberon to stand and peer through the bushes at what was going on.

The lights hung along the trail revealed two men approaching a third, who was walking backwards, facing them as he moved away. The body language suggested an argument– but the one walking backward appeared to be pleading with the other two.

As they drew closer, Auberon stayed low, but managed to get a better look.

The pleading one was an old man– an elder, it appeared. He had a long grey beard and wore a long coat. The other two were clearly younger, although their faces were heavily worn.

Suddenly, one of the younger ones lashed out and pushed the elder to the ground, then stood over him, holding him by the throat while the other pulled the elder’s satchel from him and upended it.

Thieves. They were thieves. Auberon grit his teeth. He despised thieves. Especially thieves that would target elders or the Touched Ones.

But this elder was an Outworlder, not Embrayyan.

The elder spat in the face of the man holding his throat, and earned a boot to the head as a result. The thief turned the elder onto his side and started kicking him, causing the elder to yell out in pain.

Suddenly, for a brief moment, the elder looked directly at Auberon. He leaned back, staying out of sight.

This wasn’t his business. This was Outworlder business. He had no love for any of them. He couldn’t risk–

The beating continued on the other side of the bush, and he heard the second thief laughing. The elder was crying out with every strike.

The thieves were going to kill him.

Auberon should have let them. He’d taken the life of an Outworlder himself only a day prior, he cared nothing for the fates of Outworlders.

But Auberon couldn’t. He looked again. The thieves had no daggers, no clubs. Nothing that he could see.

Just as well.

Auberon stood up and stepped out onto the trail. The thieves were completely oblivious to his presence. Just as well. He walked behind the laughing thief and kicked the back of his knee, causing him to grunt and involuntarily kneel. He brought his elbow to the Outworlder’s throat, knocking him to the ground and causing him to start gasping and choking uncontrollably.

The other thief noticed what had happened and immediately broke off from beating the elder. He pointed at Auberon and yelled something.

Auberon crossed the distance between them in a flash, grabbing the thieve’s arm and forcing his elbow to turn in a way it wasn’t designed to. He heard the satisfying crack of the arm breaking, then pushed the thief on top of his companion.

His companion pushed the other off and started to scramble to his feet, running away, while the other screamed in pain. Auberon took a step toward him again, but he too scrambled away and ran.

Once they were out of sight, he looked down to the elder. He was now sitting on the ground, bleeding from his forehead, looking up at Auberon wide-eyed.

The elder spoke. Auberon only looked back at him.

He then raised an arm, as if to ask for help to his feet.

At that point Auberon fought the two parts of himself. The part that knew he should walk away, and the part that respected elders.

He opted to help the elder to his feet. The elder hopped around for a moment, indicating to Auberon that his leg was hurt and wouldn’t be able to walk.

Nonetheless, the elder managed to get close enough to the ground to gather up his things and put them back in his satchel. He looked up to Auberon and spoke again.

Auberon shook his head, indicating that he didn’t understand.

The old man cocked his head and spoke again, and upon seeing Auberon’s face, gave him a knowing smile. He put a fist out, with his thumb raised. Auberon knew the gesture well. In Embrayya, it was a gesture of thankfulness.

The old man gestured to him to help him up once he’d gathered his things, then said a few words while pointing down the trail.

He was asking Auberon for help.

And for some reason, Auberon felt obligated to.

The elder kept talking to him as they traveled down the path together. Auberon got the impression he was trying to fill the silence by telling a story, but he couldn’t make sense of it and instead only focused on where he was being lead to.

After several minutes, the elder pointed down a narrow trail unlike the others– this one was less-traveled, and Auberon could hear voices in the distance. There were others there.

He hesitated at the trail-head. The elder looked at him in confusion, then spoke a few more words, and mimed the act of eating.

Was he offering to give Auberon food? That would at least be useful. And he may avoid suspicion from the others there by virtue of having helped the elder.

Reluctantly, Auberon helped the old man down the trail and found himself in a rather curious camp, the lights of which he had never seen.

There were roughly a half-dozen people in the camp, each sitting or standing around a small fire that appeared to be coming from a metal contraption of some sort– a stove? A small, portable stove? Several tents were erected, and every Outworlder there looked directly at the two of them as they arrived.

Two of them sprung up in a flurry of chatter, coming up to help the elder find a seat next to one of the small fires. Auberon helped the elder find a seat, then watched as they all chattered at one another.

The elder seemed to alleviate their concern after a few moments, then turned his attention back to Auberon. He gestured for Auberon to sit on a strange, hard, bright blue box the likes of which he’d never seen. It appeared to have a handle on it.

Auberon gently took a seat and examined the fire a bit more closely. The flame was made of several smaller flames all situated in a circle. It wasn’t enough to warm one in the winter, but it seemed warm enough for a cool summer night.

The elder began to speak to him again, and Auberon could only look at him, wondering at what he was trying to say.

“Ezra,” the old man said, offering his hand.

Auberon looked from his hand to the man’s grizzled, bloodied face. Even in spite of the beating he’d received, he was smiling. It appeared genuine.

His mind struggled to grasp it. These people, the creators of the demons that took his sister, his parents… were showing kindness.

It wasn’t just the old man, either. It had been the woman on the street pushing her baby. It had been the man who had given him what he needed to board the train. And now it was a man whose life he saved.

They had also taken everything and everyone he loved. Even his home. He should have left. He should have spat in the old fool’s face and walked away. But something… some sense of rationale guided his hand into the old man’s.

“Auberon,” he replied.

The man shook Auberon’s hand. “Auberon,” he repeated. He said something. Auberon could only assume it was a greeting of some sort. He tried his best to repeat it back to the man, and earned an honest chuckle from Ezra.

Ezra rummaged around in a bag and pulled out two yellow objects. He handed one to Auberon.

It was long and thin, and the yellow exterior– was it paper?-- hid something inside. He looked to Ezra, who had already opened it, revealing a brown interior. Auberon’s nose turned up at it at first– it looked like shit. Literally.

But then Ezra took a bite.

Auberon tore open the paper– no. Not paper. Some other substance, thinner even than paper, but silver and reflective on the inside. Then the scent struck him– it smelled sweet. Almost overwhelmingly sweet. He broke off a chunk of it and inspected it. The interior of the strange food contained… nuts! Nuts and something else he couldn’t identify. But it smelled so sickeningly sweet, and he’d eaten only the Outworlder cheese since that morning, he decided to place it in his mouth.

And sweet it was! Sweet in a way he’d never experienced. It melted in his mouth, spreading the flavor throughout. And when he bit down, unlocking the flavors of the rest of it, he understood.

It was delicious. It was some sort of candy meant for kings. No, even the Kings of Ayndir had never tasted such sweetness.

He took another bite, and smiled at Ezra. “Good,” Auberon said. “It’s good.”

Ezra repeated after him, then spoke something in his own language.

Auberon looked around at the surrounding community. Many were sleeping. Others were awake, talking quietly to one another around tiny stoves not unlike the one Ezra had. Tents were set up everywhere.

But there was a community there. A community of beggars that, at least for now, appeared to have accepted him. Something like that was valuable as a stranger in a foreign world. Perhaps more so than the wilderness that lay beyond the bridge.

With a community, he could make allies. He could learn the language. He thought back to the beggar he saw in the city– he was fat, well-fed.

Beggars in Embrayya sometimes had swollen stomachs, but that was due to starvation. Beggars in Outworld didn’t appear to suffer from such problems. So why beg?

Did it matter? He would learn what he needed faster within a community. He could better plot against the Outworlders by pretending to be one of them. He would learn where to find food, how to use the strange devices they all seemed to have.

Or he could escape to the wilderness and perhaps never come back out.

He looked to his new ally. “Ezra,” he began. He waited until he had the man’s full attention. “Is there room for one more here?” he asked, miming what he was saying as best he could.

Ezra looked at him for a moment in confusion, then spoke back to him. He called over to one of the others. Auberon watched as the two exchanged words, and the other man soon returned with a large bundle. He put it on the ground next to Auberon.

Auberon inspected it. It was soft and– it was bedding!

Bedding? These beggars just had extra bedding laying around? He looked up to the other man. “Thank you,” he said.

The man replied in his own language, waved, then walked away.

“Ziggy,” Ezra said. He pointed to the man, then added some words. His name was Ziggy.

Ezra and Ziggy. And others, it seemed.

Ezra spoke again, pointing at Auberon and putting his palms in the air. Auberon got the impression he was asking where he was from.

Of course he wasn’t about to tell him, even if he couldn’t speak High Embrayyan. Auberon merely pointed to the east, but made a show of suggesting it was far to the east.

Ezra nodded as if he understood. “Yoorup,” he said with confidence.

Auberon only nodded. Yes, he could be from Yoorup. And he could stay here, with these beggars, until such time as it no longer served a purpose. There were things he needed to learn, and these beggars, if nothing else, could serve as good teachers.

And they had just given him bedding, and welcomed him to their community.

He and Ezra spent time getting the hang of communicating with each other for what seemed like hours before the two of them retired for the night. Auberon’s goals hadn’t changed– but his method of achieving them had. He would make a go there, in the tamed wilderness at the edge of the city.