“An’... and then ‘e said... ‘If tha’s a vekkel, where’s my wife?’”

Sofie Ramaut sat on a rough stool in a noisy tavern in a world she barely knew, watching three people she’d just met ramble and laugh drunkenly about their dead friends. In fact, drunk was putting it very lightly. She'd never seen people down goblet after goblet of liquor at such an astounding rate before, and she'd been to Oktoberfest! Speaking of which, Sofie felt like she could really use a dozen drinks herself, but with no money to her name she could do nothing but watch as the others guzzled beer in superhuman quantities, toasting the recently departed.

She’d only been with the trio a few days, but she could already tell that there was a lot going on with each of them. Arlette was gruff and businesslike, but Sofie felt like that was a front, a wall she put up to hide the kind person that she really was. She’d helped Sofie when nobody else would, she’d listened to her, she’d even lent Sofie her clothes. Sofie felt safe around her, like the woman was the big sister that she’d never had.

Basilli was confusing. The man hadn’t done anything actively against her. In fact, he’d helped her that one time back in the wagon. But he’d also called her a whore and claimed that he didn’t care what happened to her, so Sofie couldn’t help but dislike the man. The suave, silver-tongued, charming rogue persona he seemed to cultivate rubbed her the wrong way as well. Still, she told herself, he’d kept Jaquet from abandoning her in the middle of nowhere, so he couldn’t be all that bad, right?

Jaquet, on the other hand, could fuck right off. The fat fuck was nothing but a brute, and could go die in a volcano for all she cared. She hadn’t forgiven him for what he’d done to her. Her throat still hurt from his crushing grip. He kept looking at her like she was some kind of liability, some kind of threat. Just where did he get off on judging people like that?

Arlette treated him like an old friend. Her oldest friend, really. It was obvious that the two were closer to each other than they were to Basilli. Back in the wagon, he’d tried to couch his protests as worries about her dragging down the three of them as a whole, but it was plain to Sofie that he was really worried about Arlette. He glared at Sofie like an overprotective father glares at his daughter’s first boyfriend.

“How about you, Arlette?” Basilli asked. The two had been talking about another one of their dead companions, though Sofie had zoned out for a minute and missed some of it. “You ever think about marrying somebody? What about Jaquet here? You spend so much time working together you might as well make it official.”

“Maybe if he was just old and fat, instead of old, fat, and ugly,” Arlette replied.

Maybe it was because of all the alcohol in his system, or the excessive emotions from talking about the newly deceased, but Jaquet’s mask had slipped off at Arlette’s words, just for a split second. The others hadn’t noticed that look of pain, but Sofie had. Those words had crushed him. No way! Sofie hurriedly rewrote everything she knew about Jaquet and Arlette’s relationship. That wasn’t some sort of paternal protectiveness she’d seen just now. That was love. Yearning. Romantic desire. Jaquet was in love with Arlette, Sofie was sure, and he was hiding it from everybody.

Gross!

Love was beautiful and all that, sure, but this dude was at least twice Arlette’s age! Surely that wasn’t normal here, right? Right? Now she needed those drinks more than ever.

Sofie stared at the unconscious form of her savior as she snored away on the bed in their inn and tried not to panic, but it wasn’t working. She was nobody? They were going to leave her in Xoginia, wherever that was? Arlette had dropped those bombs on her in her inebriated state and just carried on for hours afterwards like nothing had happened, leaving Sofie to just twist in the wind. But now at least Sofie knew where she stood. Not even the one person she’d had hope for actually gave a damn about her.

Where even was Xoginia? Was it the next town over? What if it was some place here in this town? What if they were going to leave her here? Maybe they were going to sneak off in the morning while she slept, and she’d wake up alone in this terrible world again! Sofie couldn’t let that happen. Her eyes fell on the slave shackles, discarded in the corner of the room she and Arlette had shared, and she had an idea. There was one way to make sure Arlette didn’t leave without her...

Growing up in the peaceful country of Belgium, Sofie had never experienced true violence. She'd thought she understood it, but she'd been wrong. The truth had become clear the moment an arrow embedded itself in Arlette's shoulder out of nowhere. The terror of the fight had nearly overwhelmed her, and that was before she'd been held hostage.

Shudders rolled through Sofie’s body like waves as what little breakfast she’d eaten earlier rocketed out her mouth and nose in the wrong direction. Blood. So much blood. Shaking her head, she accidentally caught a glimpse of the one man Jaquet had bisected and the retching redoubled.

This was the world that Arlette lived in? This world of butchery and pain? How could she stand it, living in a world where stuff like this was the norm?

It was bad enough to stand near the burnt and sliced corpses of the people who’d attacked them. It was worse to think about just how close to death she herself had come. First there was the knife to her neck, held by a jittery hand. Just one jerk and her throat would have been cut, and that would have been the end. But that wasn’t the part that really bothered her. No, what really sent shivers down her spine was the way Jaquet had killed the man who took her hostage. He was playing up the cocky attitude to Arlette right now, acting like he had been sure he wasn’t going to miss, but Arlette hadn’t been able to see his face when he’d thrown that knife. Sofie had. Jaquet hadn’t cared if he missed or not. In his mind, if he missed and killed her instead... well, that was just taking care of different problem.

Then the corpse by her side began to change into an elf and Sofie's train of thought derailed, fell off a cliff, and exploded.

A cold wet wind blew through the campsite a week later, cutting through Sofie’s clothing like it wasn’t even there and chilling her to the bone. She scooted closer to the small fire and eyed the five skewered lizards roasting over the flame with suspicion. There was no way that anybody was supposed to eat these, right?

“Mmmm,” hummed Arlette as she sat down beside her and nodded to Basilli, who was busy creating the fire from the other side, “smells good!”

Sofie just rolled her eyes. Not a minute passed where she didn’t regret her decision to travel along with the three members of the Ivory Tears, for a laundry list of reasons. Back on Earth, she’d always enjoyed a nice stroll through the park, and thought that meant she enjoyed nature. Now she knew that she just enjoyed parks. Nature sucked. Being hunted sucked even more. She’d really underestimated just what it meant to have an entire country hunting for you. Every noise was a panic attack. She was constantly wet, tired, hungry, dirty, afraid, and miserable, and that was before you factored in the actual fights. Still, as unhappy as she was, she couldn’t convince herself that there had been a better option at the time. With no money, no job, no real skills, and no allies, she probably would’ve just ended up as a slave again.

Arlette had started to try to teach her how to kill people with a knife. It wasn’t going well. Sofie had never been the most coordinated person, and, as much as she wanted to help Arlette and not be a burden, her heart just wasn’t in it. She didn’t want to kill people. There was a line there, in her mind. If she fought and killed, she would be acknowledging the ways of this world, and she could not bring herself to do that, to say “well that’s just how they do things here”. She could not and would not respect a world where slaves walked the roads in chains, where violence was as common as breathing, where murder, and let’s be honest, that’s what it was, was not only accepted but in some ways encouraged. She’d lived in a better place, a better society, and she refused to lower her standards just because these people “didn’t know any better”. That wasn’t an excuse for butchery.

Arlette plucked two of the lizard skewers from the fire, handing one to a none-too-eager Sofie. “Make any progress with the fire training?” she asked.

Sofie sighed, her face giving Arlette all the answer she needed. Her magic practice was somehow going even worse than the murder training. God, she wanted to use magic so badly. It was the only thing that this world, called “Scyria” apparently, had over Earth. Maybe that was why it wasn’t working. She’d tried everything Arlette had told her, but she couldn’t feel anything. No flames poofed into existence. Given what she’d been told, making a flame should have been easy for her. After all, she understood flame on an atomic level, which had to be far better than anything somebody like Basilli understood. But no amount of concentration or desire seemed to bring about any magic.

She couldn’t use magic. She wasn’t able to bring herself to kill people. Was she destined to be a burden on Arlette for good? She sighed again.

“Here’s a secret,” Arlette said, snapping her lizard in two and exposing the creature’s guts for Sofie to see. “The intestines are the best part.” With a grin Arlette put the lizard torso to her mouth and sucked, drawing the pink, mushy mass into her mouth and chewing with gusto. Sofie fought back a gag.

“So how long until he’s back with the others?” Sofie asked.

“Probably not before nightfall. It’s a good ways south and back,” replied Lynn Kemble as she stirred a large cook pot over the hearth in the Kemble family’s kitchen/living room combo. “Would you like some more porridge?”

“Yes please,” Sofie said. Mrs. Kemble’s porridge was the best thing she’d eaten since her sudden excursion into Scyria, and she didn’t even like porridge. After days of eating leaves and lizards, this flavor was enough to make her cry. Why were there so many lizards in this world, anyway?

She’d been at the the Kemble’s farmhouse for most of a day now, enjoyed the joys of what went for civilization here. The whole family was wonderful. Once she’d passed along Arlette’s message, they’d welcomed her in and made her feel comfortable for the first time in what felt like forever. Sulwyn had left an hour before to pick up the others, taking along a cartload of garoph manure for some reason. His wife Lynn was hard at work, chopping up ingredients for what she assumed was soup while making Sofie feel at home. Off in the corner, amusing himself with some small rocks, sat Padrig, their young son.

"Whatcha doin'?" Sofie asked the child as she ambled over.

"Making Petra!" the kid replied.

"Petra?"

"That's his name for one of our garophs," Lynn informed her.

Sofie looked down at the pebbles arranged on the rough wooden floor. After some squinting, she realized that Padrig had arranged them in the rough outline of a garoph, like the ones sleeping in their barn.

"Well look at that! That's really good!," Sofie said. Padrig smiled. "How old are you, sweetie?"

The kid held up a hand with all his fingers sticking out.

"Five?!?!? Wooooowwwww! I bet soon you’ll be as big and strong as your dad!"

Padrig hopped up and down on his bottom in excitement, beaming from ear to ear. "Yeah! When I grow up I'm gonna be super strong just like Daddy!"

Lynn chucked as she stirred, a tear coming to her eye. “When those bastards took Padrig, I thought that I would never see him again. Those bastards would come through every winter and just take people from their homes, especially children. We couldn’t fight them all off, and those flea-ridden Maddocks chose to take their coin and look the other way instead of upholding the law.” She spat in disgust. “A pox upon nobles!

"But the Ivory Tears were passing through this year. We begged them to save our children, but even with all the village pooling our money we didn't have enough to hire mercenaries. Yet they did it anyway. They chased down those bastards and gave them all the deaths they deserved and brought our children back. Madam Demirt wouldn't even take what money we'd managed to collect. I'll never forget what she and the rest did for us. I can finally have hope again, knowing that those awful people won't be coming back. So don't you worry about a thing, sweetheart. We'll make sure nobody finds you. You just rest up and recover."

"Thank you, I'll do that" Sofie smiled. What a nice family.

“Do it,” insisted the voice in her head. “One upward thrust, just like she taught you. You can save them. You can be the hero.”

The knife shook perceptibly in Sofie’s hands as she stared into the eyes of Sulwyn Kemble, her thoughts and feelings embroiled in all-out war with one another. Arlette and the others were out of commission. It was up to her to save them, but she’d have to take Sulwyn’s life to do so. Was there some other way out? Some solution that didn’t end in death? She wanted to tell the farmer to lie down on the ground and surrender, but the words wouldn’t leave her throat. She was scared. Scared of where this would go.

Every time she readied herself to strike, a scene would flash through her mind. Padrig's bright, beaming face. Lynn's grateful tears. What would happen to them if this man died? How would they live? They didn't deserve to suffer. But the alternative was for them all to be captured. There were no good answers. So she stood there, eyes wide and knife hovering by Sulwyn's abdomen, frozen by the moment, until the farmer decided for her.

Then the pain began.

“Stop scratching it. That only makes it spread,” Arlette said.

“Gaaahhhh, it’s driving me crazy!” Sofie whimpered in agony as she scratched her crotch and butt. She hated her life in Scyria so much she wanted to scream until her lungs gave out. Weeks without a bath. Meal after meal of nothing but lizards, rodents, and the assorted “edible” plants. Day after grueling day of walking, walking, and more walking, until her feet wanted to break off. Fight after terrible fight, battle after horrible battle, every day fearing the next encounter. She still got the random headache from their adventure in Olenset. In other words, she was dirty, stinky, hungry, tired, aching, scared, and injured.

Every time she thought that things couldn’t get more unbearable, they somehow did. This one, however, really took the cake. She’d gone off into the woods to do her business, as she always did, and finished by wiping herself with some leaves in a vain effort to be at least a little cleaner, as she always did. This time, however, she’d wiped using leaves from this world’s equivalent of poison sumac, creating a painful, itchy rash all over the one area of her body where it would be the most unpleasant. Now she was dirty, stinky, hungry, tired, aching, scared, injured, and torturously itchy.

The group was resting in the late afternoon before making one final push for the day. Arlette claimed they were only a few days from the Kutrad border, after which things were supposed to get easier. Sofie was taking a less optimistic view. She’d seen a lot of things that were “supposed to” be something in this world that weren’t. Sofie didn’t put much credence in the woman’s claims. Nothing else had gone well so far. Why should this be any different?

She needed to think about something besides how much she itched. That was another thing that sucked about this place. There was nothing to take your mind off of stuff when you really needed it. Grabbing a large stick nearby, she began to draw a map of Europe, doing her best to properly draw out the geography of each country accurately.

She’d shown Arlette a pretty well-drawn map of the world she’d made at a campsite once, but, like everything else, that didn’t seem to faze the mercenary. Arlette seemed pretty committed to the idea that Sofie was a nut job. If she was honest with herself, the hurt she felt by how everybody acted like she was crazy bothered her, but nowhere near as much as the frustration brought about by her inability to get Arlette to even consider that she was telling the truth. Still, she planned on keeping at it until the other woman broke. She didn’t have much else to do, anyway.

Speaking of Arlette, she was leaning against a tree to Sofie’s right with her eyes shut. Trying to rest, Sofie supposed. Sofie didn’t feel like bothering her.

Jaquet was sitting near Arlette, busy cleaning the blood from the latest battle from his halberd. Sofie felt like he obsessed over his weapon too much. He’d spend all his free time cleaning it and caring for it like it was his child or something. Once, she even thought she’d heard him talking to it like it was a person.

Sofie’s overall perspective on the old mercenary had shifted since her realization about his unrequited love for Arlette. Now she couldn’t see anything else. The way he talked to her. The way he seemed to always have a bit of his food left over for her to eat. Even the way he positioned himself relative to Arlette while they walked, so that he’d be able to block arrows from the most likely direction of attack. At first Sofie had found his feelings somewhat icky, but now she found it to be downright romantic. If only he weren’t a completely brutish, violent asshole who viewed Sofie’s presence as a threat to Arlette and the others, she might even like the man.

Basilli had gone off to pee or something. She wasn’t sure. He’d maintained his “not my problem” attitude towards her throughout their trip. Sofie was perfectly alright with keeping that the way it was.

Her stick was halfway through tracing the coast of Italy when she heard the soft rustle of leaves to her left. Basilli? She leaned her stick against a nearby rock and turned towards the sound, but found no human. Huh? Looking down, she found the source of the rustling: a small furball sniffing about near her foot. The creature was about the length of a house cat, with adorable little round ears sticking out of long, shaggy fur. It didn’t move with feline grace, instead loping ponderously like a bear. Actually, that was very much what it reminded her of, a cat crossed with a bear. It’s snout was longer than a cat but not quite as protruded as a bear’s or a dog’s. It had a long, active tail like a cat, but a stockier build, chunkier like a bear. Whatever it was, it was tiny and cute and the best thing Sofie had seen in days.

“Sofie,” Arlette said quietly, a deadly seriousness in her voice, “back away slowly. Don’t make any sudden moves.”

“What? From this?”

“Jus’ do as she says,” said Jaquet. Was that fear she heard in his voice? Why were they moving away like this cutie was going to eat their faces off?

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” said Basilli as he emerged from the forest. “Are we rea-” He stopped in his tracks, his eyes bugging out as he spotted the small creature. “J-jaglioth! Oh fuck!”

Jaglioth? What a harsh name for such a cute animal. Sofie didn’t understand why the others were all petrified over such a lovable little creature, but she knew better than to dismiss such reactions out of hand. Slowly, ponderously, she took a step back, then another. The harmless-looking animal continued to sniff about, showing no sign of why the others were so afraid.

Things were going smoothly for a moment, until her stick fell. Her drawing stick, as branches went, was not the most balanced stick in the world, and, after a few moments leaning against a rock, gravity prevailed. The branch toppled over, landing just in front of the lovable furball and giving it a fright! It startled, turning tail and scurrying back into the tree while crying out in fear.

“Oh no,” Arlette said. “Everybody run!”

Before Sofie could even wonder what was going on, they heard a furious roar from not too far off in the forest, and everything became clear. The four of them took off in a dead sprint through the forest, heading away from that roar and its source as quickly as they could, but soon the sounds of wood snapping behind them told them that escape wouldn’t be so easy. A second roar of anger shook the forest, much closer this time. Sofie looked back for a second to find a boulder of muscle barreling through the trees after them, murder in its eyes. The mother jaglioth stood twice the height of a grizzly bear, it’s massive frame propelled by powerful muscular legs as it galloped after them, but Sofie’s gaze focused in on the beast’s maw, the canine-filled mouth of an apex predator that didn’t take kindly to people messing with its kids.

The beast was gaining on them, its bulk easily brushing aside the same foliage that slowed them every so slightly. Sofie could hear it huff as it closed in. Sofie pushed herself to run even faster, ignoring the protests of her tired legs.

Suddenly Arlette’s head perked up and swiveled to the right. A moment later, she abruptly changed direction, yelling “This way!” The rest followed, the jaglioth hot on their heels. Unable to shift its bulk so easily, the beast shot past their turning point, slamming into a tree with such force that Sofie thought she heard the trunk crack before continuing its pursuit.

As they ran, Sofie began to hear a roaring of a different sort from up ahead. The noise got louder and louder until they suddenly cleared the tree line and came to a sudden halt at the edge of a cliff. Many meters down below, a river raged, its waters overflowing with snowmelt from the warming spring weather.

“Jump!” Arlette cried, leaping from the cliff. Jaquet and Basilli followed immediately, but the sight of the rushing water gave Sofie a moment of pause. Leaping from such a height into those waters was a scary proposition. She looked back to see the giant jaglioth nearly upon her, decided that there were far scarier propositions, and jumped for her life. The beast’s frustrated bellow echoed off the cliff walls as she fell.

An hour later, Sofie sat upon a riverbank, somehow even more miserable than before. Now she was dirty, stinky, hungry, tired, aching, scared, injured, torturously itchy, and soggy. There was nothing good to be found in Scyria, she fumed. Even the cute things were deadly. She hated it here. The food sucked. The people sucked. The world sucked. Everything sucked.

Everything was alright, Sofie thought as she cradled the sleeping catgirl against her chest with one hand as she scratched behind the girl’s ears with the other. As an only child, Sofie had always dreamed of having a little sister. She’d dream of playing together with dolls, dressing her up in cute clothes, and just generally spoiling her rotten, but her parents had never seen fit to bestow upon her such a blessing. But now she had Pari. For the first time in what felt like forever, she was at peace, and all it took to get her there was the arrival of the perfect little sister.

Pari was as if an adorable jet-black kitten had been magically transmogrified into a child, with only the cute ears and tail remaining. Sofie loved to watch them twitch and move in response the the girl’s emotions. Combine that with her cheerful, inquisitive personality and a smile that could melt the polar ice caps, and Pari was practically tailor-made to be the apple of Sofie’s eye. Sofie was going to hug and cherish her until the end of time.

She wasn’t sure why Pari had decided that they were family. She’d just called herself “big sister Sofie” at the time to make herself sound more trustworthy, but Pari had seemed to take it literally for some reason. Sofie wasn’t going to complain.

Where had Pari come from? She would talk about this grandfather of hers, but he sounded more like a mythical figure than a person. She’d been headed south, so she must have also been coming from Kutrad, though they’d never crossed paths until the Deadlands. The biggest clue to her background was something that Sofie had found while petting the girl the night before, and which she hadn’t told anybody about. On the back of Pari’s neck, hidden by her long, pitch-black hair, was a brand. Unless brands were part of some ritual markings that Sofie didn’t know about, this poor girl had been a slave. To be enslaved a such a young age... Sofie’s heart wept. It was a miracle that Pari was still the ray of sunshine that she was.

Sofie vowed to protect her, to keep her from ever having to experience such pain ever again. She wasn’t sure how she was going to do such a thing; hell, it was arguable that she couldn’t even take care of herself. But Sofie didn’t care. She’d found something worth protecting, and she was determined to do it however she could.

Pari snuggled deeper into Sofie's chest and began to purr, causing Sofie’s heart to seize up. Dear god, this girl was weaponized cuteness. Sofie shut her eyes with a contented sigh. Scyria wasn’t so bad after all.

Sofie stood outside Lucas and Liela Delon’s house in Begale, unsure of what to do. Liela had handed her some coins and told her to go to the market and buy certain vegetables before shooing her and Pari out the door. Sofie wasn’t against helping out, but there were several problems. She only had a vague idea of where the local market was. Liela had named several vegetables, but she didn’t know what any of them were, what they looked like, or how much they cost. By the time she’d realized these facts and opened her mouth to vocalize them, Liela had already shut and locked the door behind them. Now what?

They could always just ask people, she decided. If she had to expose her ignorance, it was better to do it to somebody she’d never see again instead of somebody whose house she’d be sleeping at. “Okay Pari, let’s go!” she said with gusto. The expected response from the girl by her side did not come. Looking down, Sofie realized that was because the catgirl wasn’t by her side. Sofie looked about in alarm and spotted the child standing at the entrance to a nearby alleyway, her fuzzy tail swishing this way and that as she peered inside. “Pari?” Suddenly the girl gave one of her trademark giggles and sprinted into the alley. Oh no. “Pari! Pari, get back here! Pari!”

Sofie sprinted after the girl. Pari was surprisingly fast when she wasn’t carrying her giant sack of candlemaking stuff. She entered the alley just in time to see a tail recede around a corner. “Pari, wait!” She rounded the corner to find it distressingly lacking in catgirls. Now what? A giggle from above caused her to look up in dismay and catch a glimpse of black cat ears speeding along the roof. How the hell did she get up there? “Pari, get down from there!” she cried as she gave chase, a giggle being the only response.

Sofie huffed and puffed as she followed the mischievous child on her rooftop adventure, leaping from roof to roof and apparently having a grand old time. She didn’t blame the girl for wanting to explore but there was a time and a way to go about it and this was neither.

Several corners later, Sofie had a thought. She wasn’t making any progress in her chase from down on the ground, but in this particular alley were some barrels. If she stood on top of one and jumped with all her might... Several moments later, Sofie pulled herself up onto a roof, took one look down, and wondered why she’d ever though that was a good idea. Then she spotted Pari one roof over, running along the edge as carefree as could be.

The catgirl paused at the corner of her roof and looked about, confused, before looking back and spotting Sofie steadying her balance one roof back. Pari’s eyes lit up and she waved, a bright smile on her face. Sofie’s anger melted away in an instant. How was she supposed to stay made at that face?

Sofie leapt across the gap, barely making it and almost losing her balance upon landing, but she righted herself just in time. “You little twerp,” she said as she finally caught up to the girl. “Having fun with your little game?”

“Uh-huh!” Pari enthusiastically replied.

“Oh, you...” Sofie scooped the girl up into a hug. “You need to be careful! If you fell, you’d get hurt really-” She stopped mid-sentence as Pari began to sniff about and squirm out of her embrace. “What is it?”

“Basilli!” Pari replied. She slowly made her way down the roof’s edge, sniffing as she went, as Sofie followed carefully. “I smell Basilli!” With a running start, Pari leapt over to the next rooftop and began to move along, sniffing all the while. Sofie jumped after her, once again barely making it.

The catgirl hunkered down low against the roof once she got to the other side. Her eyes shone with mischief as she pointed to a figure entering a nearby alleyway. “Basilli! Hehehehehehe!”

“Shhhh! Be quiet,” Sofie said as she laid down flat on her stomach besides Pari. The figure was hidden in a cloak, but it definitely had the right height and build to be Basilli. What was he doing in this alley? The figure looked around for anybody watching before knocking on a door. A panel slid away for a moment before sliding back. The door opened, a rough looking man in the doorway.

“Well what do you know! Jakob Barabe! Finally showing your face after all these years, huh?”

“Shut up and let me in,” replied the figure with what was definitely Basilli’s voice as he pushed past the other man and entered the building. The door closed behind them and Sofie couldn’t see or hear anything that followed.

“We should get down from here,” she told Pari. “We have a job to do, remember?”

“Aw, but I wanna surprise Basilli!”

“I don’t think he wants to be surprised, sweetie,” she said, scratching the girl’s head as Pari affectionately rubbed her face against Sofie’s chest. “We need to find a way down from here and get going, okay? You’ve had enough fun for now.”

“Okayyyy,” replied a reluctant Pari.

Together they headed back in search of a place where Sofie could get back to the ground without breaking her legs. Sofie’s mind was filled with questions. Who or what was Jakob Barabe? Was Basilli Jakob, or was Jakob Basilli? Did it matter? And most importantly, how the hell could they get to the market from here?