Celia bounded through the forest, her steps quick, light, and sure. Even with the advantage of his longer legs, Curt had to nearly jog to keep up. But sure enough, her village quickly came into view barely ten minutes later.

"Welcome to Gold Glade," Celia said, shooting him a quick smile.

Curt quickly noticed the namesake; trees circling the clearing where the buildings were clustered had bark that glittered and glinted like gold. Their leaves were dark green, and a clear stream ran through the center of the village. The buildings were humble and simple in architecture, but the lumber had the same golden hue as the trees around the clearing.

Each building seemed to be arbitrarily built, facing in different directions, with winding pathways connecting the village together. Colorful flowers decorated the rooftops and well tended gardens dotted the landscape. Villagers were milling about, and as far as Curt could tell, looked as human and ordinary as Celia.

He thought of his own hometown, Ore Town, back up beyond the clouds. The buildings there were made from mud bricks. As a result, the entire town was essentially featureless white, with the occasional wooden shop or tavern sign now and then. Curt wasn't sure if he'd seen so much color in one place before.

Celia looked at Curt expectantly, her eyes searching his face for some kind of reaction.

"It's… really nice," he said, surprised by his own honesty in his voice.

Celia just took it for granted, not realizing how rare it was for the young gunslinger to give an honest compliment, and was once again off toward the village.

"Let's go to my house," she said. "We can get you something to wear that's more normal — since you're going undercover and all — and cleaned up."

Curt didn't bother to argue again that he was, in fact, not an angel, and just followed her lead. A change of clothes probably would be nice if he wanted to try blending in more. The style of clothing around here wasn't entirely dissimilar to what his own world's, but he could see how he stood out.

A few villagers along the way greeted Celia by name and asked about Curt, but she waved off their inquiries by explaining Curt's presence away as a foreign friend of her father's. Most villagers were merely curious onlookers, following Curt with questioning eyes. He guessed a quaint place like this didn't see many visitors.

Still, despite her innocent appearance, she sure was good at spinning made up stories on the fly.

Celia stopped in front of a modest dwelling built beside an old apple tree. The repetitive sound of a hammer striking an anvil echoed from the back of the building.

"Papa's a blacksmith," Celia said in way of explanation. "He's a really good guy, so I think we should tell him your secret. He'll help you out for sure."

Celia gave Curt a pleading stare. If everyone was as gullible as she was, maybe he'd really help him out if he thought Curt was an angel. But something in his gut told him her dad was likely to doubt the story, which may not be a bad thing. The villagers seemed nice enough, and he doubted a hostile society would decorate their homes with bouquets.

"Sure," Curt said watching Celia's face light up. A stab of guilt went through his tattered conscience. He was surprised he still had one. "But look, I want to be clear on this — I'm not an angel. I might've fallen from the sky, but where I came from was definitely not a heaven."

Celia furrowed her brow, and for a second Curt wondered if he should've kept going along with the girl's delusion. She was technically the only person he knew so far willing to help him out, and that might've been to his benefit.

"But your hair… it's white," she said, pointing up to the messy tangles above his head. "Like angel feathers."

Curt glanced around. True enough, all the villagers around him, Celia, and everyone they passed by so far had either brown, black, or blonde hair. There were few older folk with greying hair, and one old man with white, but there was no one with as young a face as Curt's sporting white hair.

He didn't expect white hair to be common in a foreign continent in another world though. White hair like his was shared among some Dusters, especially those living in Ore Town. People thought it was by being surrounded by the white "dragon bone" ore. But outside of Ore Town, white hair was a rarity.

He shrugged. "That's what I was apparently born with. In my hometown it's pretty common actually."

He watched Celia's face fall with disappointment, and he realized that she probably knew how outlandish the excuse she spun for him was, but she truly hoped it might've been real.

He turned away from her. He was never very good with kids, especially optimistic, cheerful ones like her. And especially when her type got sad. And doubly so when it was his fault.

"Well, I did drop out of somewhere in the sky," Curt hedged, seeing Celia lift her head slightly. "It's probably nothing like the 'Star City' you mentioned before, but I could tell you about it. Not that it's really interesting — or magical — but it's pretty different than here, at least."

Celia gave Curt a small smile. It wasn't what she wanted, but she was kind enough to accept the compromise.

"So, how did you fall out of the sky anyways?" Celia asked.

"Not sure. I jumped off a cliff from where I was from, tumbled down through a bunch of clouds, and then I stopped at some kind of forcefield up there. I heard a crack and started falling again. You know the rest," Curt summarized, purposely leaving out why he fell out of the sky.

"A forcefield?" Celia's eyes widened. "You mean you came through the sky barrier?"

"Sky barrier?"

"It's the world's strongest magical barrier," Celia exclaimed, spreading her arms as if to encompass the sky itself. "It was created by the Stars themselves and the greatest mages get the honor to maintain it over the years."

Curt raised an eyebrow. So apparently there was a cult of powerful magicians keeping a barrier in the sky. A barrier that apparently separated his and her worlds.

"If the Stars and angels live in the sky, why does there need to be a barrier in the first place?"

Celia frowned at him. "The Star City could be corrupted if those not pure of heart went there. In exchange for maintaining the barrier that protects their city, the Stars help grant prosperity to our land."

Curt just nodded. He didn't feel like pointing out to her that he just came from above the barrier, and that he was definitely mortal and not pure of heart. But he didn't doubt that the land she lived in was quiet prosperous. If Gladys Forest was any indicator, this place didn't lack in resources.

Celia looked troubled though, still frowning and furrowing her brow. Maybe she realized the contradiction. Not wanting to disappoint her for the second time in the same day, he said, "I don't think I fell from that high up, so maybe I hit the second layer of the barrier or something. I'm sure a barrier that strong has backup barriers."

It was good enough for Celia. She latched on to the excuse, saying when he leapt off a cliff he might've landed into some mage's teleportation circle that went wrong and teleported him into the sky. Curt had to admire how quickly she could spin a tale. She might be gullible, but she sure was creative.

"Celia! That you?"

A gruff voice hollered from behind the house. The hammering sounds ceased, and a large man stepped around the corner. He held a hefty hammer with a well-muscled arm, though his stomach was rather portly. His face was darkly tanned with hard lines etched in it . He different from what Curt imagined Celia's father to be. She probably took after her mother.

"Papa!' Celia skipped up and leapt into the older man's arms. He barely had time to drop the hammer and catch her.

He gave her a quick hug and a warm smile before setting her down and turning towards Curt. He eyed the lanky stranger with suspicion So not everyone here was as trusting as Celia, Curt thought.

"Who's this?" Celia's father asked while taking in the obviously foreign clothes, the holsters, and the rare, white hair.

Celia glanced at Curt with a pleading look. He realized she wanted to tell her father the truth, but thought she needed Curt's permission. He nodded her way.

She went through the summary of their meeting like a bullet out of a gun: fast and to the point. Curt had to give credit to her dad though, he seemed hardly fazed as she told him what sounded like a tall tale summed up in one sentence.

When Celia finally ended her story, "… and Curt could use our help", her father looked at Curt like he was hoping Curt would say it was Celia's overactive imagination, and that he was a simple traveler passing by.

Curt shrugged. "It's true."

Her father sighed. "How about you come inside and get cleaned up. Some of my old clothes from when I was younger might fit you. Then, we talk."