It’s nightfall by the time we arrive at the town of Ridge Port, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m in a child’s body now or what, but my stamina feels shot to hell. My feet drag along the dirt road, my eyelids heavy like lead. In truth, it feels like I’ve sleepwalked the last few miles, zombing my way through, and it rather surprises me that I haven’t yet-

“Wah!” I exclaim as my body lurches forward. Just before I tumble to the ground, however, I feel a strong arm wrap around my chest, catching me and drawing me into the air.

It’s Gin, who offers me a gentle smile. Still carrying me under his arm, he reassures, “We’re almost there, Jaxon. Just hang on a little longer.”

I blush, embarrassed at the position I find myself in, and I throw my arms and kick my feet about in protest. “P-put me down!”

Gin complies, setting me slowly back onto the ground. Then raising an eyebrow he asks, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” I quickly reply. I slap my face hard several times, both cheeks hot and red once I’m done. “See? Totally awake.”

Gin just offers a slight chuckle and shrug, then gestures me forward. A few minutes later and we’re at the city walls, before the iron gates manned by a pair of guards dressed in armor. They eye us over, torch held out for light, then the taller one asks, “What’s your purpose in Ridge Port?”

“We’re travelers, seeking supplies and a place to stay,” Gin responds.

“We don’t just let any random stranger pass through the gates in the middle of the night. Are you affiliated with a guild or something? Any kind of identification? If not, you’ll have to wait for morning,” the shorter one says.

“Hm,” Gin begins. He reaches into a pocket, pulling out a necklace of some kind, at the end of which is attached a golden ring. “Will this do?”

The taller guard looks suspiciously at the item for a moment, but then, I see his eyes grow wide. Immediately, he bows, hastily gesturing for his partner to do the same. “O-of course, Sir Renolds. Please, pardon our rudeness. We were merely doing our due diligence. E-enjoy your stay in Ridge Port.”

The guards open the gate, ushering us through, and as we pass, I lean over to Gin, whispering, “Wait, are you famous or something?”

“There might have been a tale or two sung about me in the past,” Gin offers with a smirk, “But it’s late, and that’s a long story, for another time, perhaps.” Unsatisfied, I try to follow up, pressing for details. The man continues playing coy, however, causing me to eventually drop the subject.

We end up at an inn, looking like it had been pulled right out of a medieval reconstruction. The building is primarily wood, two floors, with a shingled roof, glassless windows filled with beige cloth instead and dark wooden beams framing the edges. Up the porch steps we go, before entering a warmly lit interior, basking in the candlelight scattered upon the long dining tables within. Gin leads me to the front counter, behind which a burly, bearded man stands, busying himself with wiping down a glass as the night winds down. As we approach, the man eyes us top to bottom, clear suspicion in his expression.

“What do you need?” he asks gruffly. It’s evident he’s trying to decide who he trusts less, me or my companion, and given our respective appearances, I don’t blame him.

“A room for the night,” Gin replies.

“That’ll be ten copper,” the man grunts, adding, “Upfront.”

Gin pulls out the coin, setting it on the counter. The man eyes it suspiciously, biting into one. Then seemingly satisfied, he drops a steel key onto the table. “Upstairs, second door on the left.” And with that, he appears to disengage, shooing us on our way.

Gin hands me the key, gesturing to the stairs. “You’re not coming?” I ask in surprise.

“I have some business to take care of first. You go on ahead, Jaxon.”

My mind feeling sluggish, I just shrug in reply, not in the mood to debate the matter. Taking the key, I make my way up the stairs, to the room indicated by the innkeep. Inside, I find a plainly furnished space, smaller than a studio apartment, with a twin sized bed against the wall, a table and a wardrobe. I slip off my shoes, plopping myself on the bed, shrugging off the fact that apparently teeth brushing and showers are not a thing in this world. Oh well, I’m too tired to care...

...Or so I say. Given my earlier exhaustion, I predicted that I’d immediately fall asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, yet now as I’m lying down, eyes closed, I find my body brimming with restlessness, my mind detouring down every which thought that fritters through my head. I toss, then turn, unable to find comfort, before finally laying on my back and opening my eyes. Mindlessly, I raise my hand, inspecting it, the size at once foreign and familiar. “A lot… has happened today, huh?” I find myself mumbling, and I think back to my afternoon alongside Aiden, his joking about Rachel Miller. The conversation seems like a lifetime ago. “Well, literally, I guess,” I muse softly, and as a smile begins to tug on my lips, I’m hit by a sudden wave of emotions, the dam I had built out of my compartmentalizing nature starting to crack. All the thoughts that I had suppressed, had little time to consider upon because of the onslaught of nonstop action, begin to flood into my mind. My mother. My father. My little sister. My pet dog. My friends. My life.

My vision begins to blur, and I throw myself under the covers to hide my face.

Stupid underdeveloped child brain.