Grulas was the westernmost city in the Empire of Darhi. Surrounded by stone walls, it was definitely some sort of defensive part for the kingdom back when the Empire of Darhi and Cudwi were enemies. High walls favored archers, but dead fields out front bore historical marks of salted fields, and probably the cause of the loss of land. I wanted to know more about the dull browns and yellows of the dirt, how not even a tree blessed this area, but the further away from Kimba I ventured, the less knowledge I had. It seemed as though this narrative forced me to her, and she didn’t care about history. My Weft had left this eternity limited world building, unavailable for just any trespasser of the story, I guess.

Numerous lax guards and playing children speckled the lively town, though. Trade was up, despite there being no farming. With the wagons full of fruits and vegetables stocking store stalls and savory scents filling the air, that history of archers on the wall and salted fields seemed long ago.

Kimba led the group through the streets, though she didn’t seem to know entirely where she was going. She followed the widest road, kept her head on a swivel. She grasped the reigns of her horse tightly, looked back to her group every few seconds. Finally, she spotted a stout, wooden barn, a stable. It looked uncharacteristically short next to the three story tall inn with a swinging sign of a mug on a bed out front.

“Go ahead and take your bags. Go on inside and get a table,” Kimba said over her shoulder. “I’ll settle the horses.”

The skinny assistant raised his hand, as if he was still a student in school. “We aren’t going to cover more ground today?” Kimba waited until she was done rolling her eyes before turning back to him.

“You fancy sleeping under some more bird poop, travel expert?” She gestured with her free hand to the front of his tunic, sporting some of the evidence of his shortsightedness from the last night he slept under a bird nest. Fulmosk shrunk in on himself, looking to the floor to shake his head. “Thought not, little man.”

“You the stable keep?” Kimba asked once her group left her. She hefted a large bag on her shoulder and overcompensated for the weight by leaning too far to the left. The man with a long ponytail turned to her, looking up first at her face with a smile, then with a softer one to the trail of horses behind her.

“Owner of the Grog and Grub, but I can take your horses. What’s your name?” He wiped his hands on his oily apron, and grabbed for a clipboard on the table beside him to fill out whatever he needed.

“Kimba. Yours?”

He didn’t look up at her anymore. “Albert, nice to meet you. Let’s get you settled in. You getting a couple rooms?” He looked up with just his eyes, brows raised. “Or are you by yourself?”

“Two rooms, I think.” She didn’t address his comment, and he didn’t address the way she casually brushed him off.

“Five horses, two rooms,” he said through a sigh.

“And five dinners and ales.”

“Mm,” he sounded with a note of disappointment. “Alright, we’ll fix your tab inside. I’ll be in after I get these beauts comfortable.”

“Thanks.” Kimba took the paper he offered her, hesitating as she thought to her troupe. “Might be more than five ales.” For her alone, even. But she didn’t want to shut him down completely, the way she added a sweetness to her tone.

Albert smiled. “Times like these? Always is. Might even join you for one, if you’ll have me.”

Kimba only gave him a wink before she turned to leave.

The threads changed as I watched Kimba enter the Grog and Grub. I was so used to all of the colors and details spurting from her like light from a sun, but now the direction of the threads shifted. They came from Tallo, now. Intrigued, I turned my attention to him.

He sat with the others at a booth with a lone candle for light. It was a little dark in here, but the few windows helped bring in a little bit of sight, even if the tall buildings around shaded this tavern from the sun quite a bit.

Fulmosk squished himself closest to the wall before Tallo could get to that seat. Nina or Rin, whichever one of the sisters was meatier (a detail I couldn’t seem to remember all of a sudden), scooted in right next to him. The skinny sister sat across, already hailing for ales and stews before Tallo could sit beside her.

It was fascinating to see a shift in narrative like this. The energy from Kimba’s threads was hearty. She felt like a loud laugh heard in the distance. Tallo was subdued, quiet like a scholar murmuring an idea, half-asleep.

His threads were taut at the moment, though. Tense, irritated. I got the feeling that he’d felt like this for a while. The seating arrangements, even after he’d figured out that he sat next to the bulky Nina and thin Rin sat across from him, bothered him. At first, I thought that perhaps it was the sisters that annoyed him, or that Nina kept brushing against his elbows with her attempt to fit in the slightly-too-small booth. But then when Kimba slid into the seat across from him, I didn’t need to see the threads to know the source of his annoyance. He didn’t say anything. Not even when she dropped her bag underneath the table and it nearly hit his foot. I felt the thrum of a bit-back quip, though.

“Feel like we might get a discount,” Kimba said to the group. “We can use this as a good time to shop for supplies we might need later.”

Fulmosk still shrunk into himself, but glanced to the party. “When’s the next stop in a town?” I got the feeling from Tallo that he was a pitiful man. Young, eager to please, full of questions but only asked a tenth of them. He still seemed to have a tenderness toward him, but I couldn’t tell which came first: the affection or the sympathy.

Kimba didn’t even look at him when she answered. “Depends on how this stop goes.” Tallo met her eyes, and as the hazel threads of her irises met the deep brown colors of his, she seemed to finally pick up on his mood. She fanned that flame with a smirk. “I mean,” she added, answering his unasked question, “if we get stabbed in our sleep, we know not to go to any more towns. Depends on what secrets you guys have.”

Tallo spoke through gritted teeth. “I thought you understood not to ask questions?” His response amused her. A genuine smile, though not without a hint of mischief, spread across her features.

“Did you hear a question from me, just then?”

The silence that fell across the table for a full minute was only interrupted by the owner of the tavern holding two ales, and a waitress beside him with three.

“Ales for the lot?” he asked with a big smile. Kimba finally broke the staring contest with Tallo to accept the offer graciously.

“And what time are you free to join?” she asked with a sweetness foreign to Tallo’s ears. The man laughed, and Tallo no longer had to question how they might swing a discount.