One of the hunter's voices ripped across the trail, raw with fear and urgency as Locke stepped forwards. "Song Bird! Scatter!" 

          A sharp whistle sounded, the yipping dogs rounding up behind the dragon hunters as they all booked it in the opposite direction of Locke, all but the one hunter still wriggling in Talli's hold. 

          Locke let out a sharp whistle of his own, one beast heeding the call as a spiky black dragon swooped overhead, creating a gale of wind with its massive wings as it dived at the trail to stop the hunters in their tracks. At first, Káel thought it was a Nomad dragon, until it's amber eyes sparked with familiarity. She was the dragon Locke called Nel, now with a wingspan wider than the trail, and a row of glistening white fangs big enough to bite the hunters in half. 

          Káel felt Truvius tug at his elbow, slowly allowing his friend to inch him closer to Talli and Vera  at the edge of the path. The dogs had taken to barking at Nel, their yips pitched an octave higher as they bent with more fear than ferocity at the massive drake. 

          "These aren't your hunting grounds Valerans," Locke spoke, ceasing his approach as the hunters readied their weapons. 

          "Not yours either bird," the bow wielding man spat, his weapon half stretched to aim at the ground for cautious conversation to be made. "How about we both pass by and think nothing of it?" 

          "Think nothing of the arrow you pointed at a child of Acadrius? If I'm not to do something, his majesty Cilvren surely will," Locke replied, his next step causing the bow wielding hunter to lift his weapon and stretch it back fully. "It looks as though you thought something of this dragon as you passed a group of kids."

          "They attacked first," another hunter snarled, the bark in their voice ill fitted to the slowly retreating steps. "Drake's Gable's property it is, thieves'll get it the same, damned if there's a crown on their head or rags on their back. Kids to old crones, everyone knows better than to take what isn't their own." 

          "A statement I can agree with," Locke replied, his lips curving as the Valerans stiffened even more. "I don't suppose any of you squeezed a dragon egg out from between those legs," he said, the joke dying amongst the group of men as he stopped bouncing the blade between his fingers, pinching the silver slit of metal to fan it out into five-feather thin blades. "Surprising, considering everyone knows better than to take what isn't their own."

          Káel winced at the snap of a bow, only cracking his eyes open when the scream that pierced the air didn't fit Locke's richer tone. He watched as the bow wielding hunter stumbled to the ground, a butt of reflective metal sticking out just above his left knee as he squirmed in pain. 

          Locke hadn't moved from the attack, but he now had four glinting blades fanned between his fingers, and a rough black arrow clenched in his other hand. 

          "The first to cast a spell, lumience or magic, will have a feather in their throat," Locke spoke, snapping the arrow in his grip and dropping the two halves at his feet. "Surrender. I'll make sure the rest of you can walk home."

          "Surrender!" Káel perked at the sound that came from beside him, the mop haired man still held still by Talli no longer fighting her grip as he watched his friends with pleading fear. "That bird's not normal, Gable will forgive us for his last location, surrender!"

          "And tell Gable we wet our pants when we saw a Song Bird?!" one of his companions shrieked, the rest of his group rising with warped morale by his words. "Die in shame skatlicker, you can't even squirm from that child, wombgrub."

          The man in Talli's hold winced as another blade whistled through the air and plunged itself into the yelling hunter's arm, the sword immediately falling from his grasp while his companions charged around him.

          Káel frowned, the sudden higher ground inflating his confidence at Locke's protection. 

          Everyone was a dumb punching bag to a bigger fish.

          As the Valerans ordered the dogs to attack Nel, a sharp whistle rang in Káel's ears. The mopheaded man called the creatures by what he assumed to be their individual names, forcing the dogs away from Nel as the hunters shrieked profanities at him. One less voice every few seconds as Locke went through them like a room full of foam blocks. 

          Káel couldn't take his eyes off the fight. Swift, perfect, precise. He had no idea this would be the outcome. That he had a strange, dragon riding hitman at his beck and call. 

          The whistle was the right choice after all. He'd pulled a plan that trumped whatever Vera had in store. It couldn't have gone more perfect than this.

          He smiled at Vera as the final hunter dropped at Locke's feet. But as he saw her, the image of the hunter's crude arrow inches from her forehead invaded his thoughts. Tugged at his smile.

          What if Locke had shown up five minutes later?

          Five seconds later?

          Káel swallowed hard, grabbing the dirt smeared whistle in guilty silence. Luck wasn't the perfect plan. It wasn't even a plan to begin with. It was purebred stupidity fueling his existence, and he'd only gotten this far with the painstakingly extensive efforts of those around him. 

          With a heavy sigh, Káel lifted his gaze to thank Locke, the words slipping back down when he saw what the man was doing. The feather thin blades he hadn't put in the hunters had slipped back into whatever hidden pocket they came from, a curved blade now clutched in his hand as he drew it's tip across the back of each Valeran's right wrist. Through some sort of twisted enchantment, the blade scorched as it cut, the two hunters that were still awake shrieking in pain as he held them down. 

          He finished up the last Valeran, approaching the one in Talli's hold as he kicked at the dirt in nervous fear. 

          Locke crouched before him, sweat dripping from the hunter's moppy black curls as he gave up tugging Talli's arm away. "Leader?"

          The man quickly shook his head, breathless in the struggle as he spoke. "I train the dogs and care for transported drakes." He flinched as Locke grabbed his right arm, lips curling with a weakened sob. "Please."

          Káel watched with a cringe as Locke ripped the man's sleeve up, three thick and flaking scars already lining his arm like tick marks. 

          "You've spent your chances. Four marks death," Locke said, the man paling as he slid the blade back into his belt. 

          "Please... I needed the money..." He didn't even move as Talli's hold weakened, eyes washed with unshed tears as Locke patted at his pockets, finally pulling a small patchworked doll from his bag. It was clumsy, almost falling apart from the poor craft of a child.

          While Locke's face didn't flinch, he lingered on the object, voice softened as if it was a casual conversation. "How many?"

          "Two..." the man breathed, the shake in his joints lessening as Locke placed the doll back in his bag. "Third one is due in a couple weeks..." 

          Káel felt a sick lump twist in his gut as Locke pulled a vial of liquid silver from his pocket,  everyone watching in confusion as he allowed one drop to kiss the man's skin.  

          Locke's face didn't twitch, his voice colder than death as he corked the vial. "Then you'll have three months to say goodbye."

          Before the man's quivering lips could move, he gave him a swift strike to the side of the head, Talli pulling away as he went completely limp in her hold. The fact that he was unconscious did nothing to lessen her wide eyes. She hadn't blinked once during the whole ordeal, the blade still clutched in her hand like a blank statue. 

          Locke rose, eyes landing on Káel with a small nod. "Are you injured?"

          "I-uh. I..." Káel stuttered, moving his arms without a purpose before looking down at the unconscious man. Despite their first encounter, a sickening pity was all he could feel for him. "Is he going to die?"

          "Do you care?" Locke replied, pulling the vial out again and tossing it for Káel to dodge like a lit torch. He waited for him to scoop it off the ground with his sleeve, a faint smile mixing with a slight bounce to his shoulders. "It's blade polish. He will live longer than three months, if he is wise enough to find better employment." Locke's voice trailed off as he sized up Káel's friends, landing the stare on Káel. "I don't kill in front of children."

           Despite Phantom's efforts, Káel could hear the choked grunt as he swallowed his laughter, choosing to ignore it in the presence of the mysterious man and move the conversation somewhere else. "Thanks. Locke, right?"

          "That is the name you may address me by." He looked around distastefully. "Long way from Cobalt, isn't it?"

          "Ahh... yeah," Káel replied, his voice drawn to think up more than a two word vocabulary. "I was-"

          "Running to Fairez Stella," Locke finished. "On stolen equaams, with no food or water..." His gaze shifted to Vera, voice dead as the crusted leaves around him. "You've kidnapped the second daughter of his Majesty Cilvren, nearly had an arrow in her head too."

          "I-I didn't," Káel moved his mouth to speak out an empty explanation, catching Vera's unconvinced frown with a shred of relief. "She followed me."

          "I'm simply telling it how her father will see it," Locke replied, waving for Káel to follow as he whistled out a trilling tune. Nel obediently joined his side, lowering her saddled back for Locke as he stopped to face Káel and his bewildered group. "It is convenient that you used the whistle. Albeit, brashly. I've business with you."

          Káel gulped, staring at the curved blade that peeked from his belt. "Business?"

          "Your uncle, as I will put it. He knew I was in the area dealing with Valerans smuggling drakes. He asked me to return you to safety if I came across you," Locke said, motioning to the trail littered with unconscious and incapacitated hunters. "I've dealt with the Valerans. I'd may as well kill two deals with one blade, we're more than halfway to the safety of Fairez Stella." 

          "That's a load of skat," Vera hummed, still busy hugging Talli to her side as comfort. "We're not even halfway there. Cobalt's the closest." 

          "On unsaddled equaams, yes. Your journey will be fairly dreadful in length. Fairez Stella does not shoot at dragons though." He nodded in understanding as Vera sized up her group of friends. "One adult and four children is a weight Nel can handle for a few hours, the boy's uncle will just have to pay a separate fee if he wishes for me to return you all to Cobalt."

          Truvius nudged Káel's shoulder before he could agree, his friend pulling him over to huddle and debate with Vera and Talli. 

          Truvius was the first to chime in, his voice so quiet Káel could barely make it out right next to him. "Should we really meet your uncle if he knows that guy?"

          Káel gave Locke a cautious glance, turning back to his friends. "He did help us..."

          "More like your uncle helped us by paying him," Vera cut in, nose scrunched as she cautiously squinted at Káel. "Who's your uncle?"

          "I don't know."

          "Well you'd better start getting to know him if he's talking to Song Birds, or any assassins for that matter," she seethed back.

          Káel frowned, dimming his tone to the victim. "Well do we trust Locke? Yes or no?"

          "We trust him. He's trustworthy," Vera retorted, her voice loud enough to catch Locke's attention as she jutted her thumb at him. "What we don't trust is your uncle, until he can prove he's not some sort of contractor or high class criminal."

          "Sounds like a plan," Káel replied, breaking from the hustle to crack a smile at Locke and hold out his hand for a shake. "We'll go to Fair Cellar with you."

          "Fairez Stella," Locke grunted, ignoring Káel's outstretched palm as he as climbed onto Nel's saddle.

—————

          The border of Alta Staar was clear. The forest came to an abrupt stop at its toes, caged by thick stone walls and a crown of vining orange flowers that spilled into the rolling grasslands beyond. The border guards were lax, or too scared to question Locke as he passed them with a group of kids. But the black of night reared its ugly head at Vera and her friends. They had barely slept a wink in the last one, due to the god of idiocy called Káel.

          They were ghouls. Starved fenirocks. Skulking, dragging their feet towards the quaint and uncaged border town with scraps for energy. Hungry for sleep, water, and even a crumb of food. Amongst the pack, Puff was the worst off. Curled in Káel's arms sulking, as he had been since Nel hissed at him for licking her face. As he had been since Nel beat him in a race three times running. As he had been since Phantom apparently told him Nel was old enough to be his grandmother. 

          Now they were in the town. In a lavishly decored building that Vera had magnetised to. Not an Inn as Locke had proposed. The hunger of the mission had still growled louder than Vera's stomach, and she had dragged them all into the arms of a small travel business her father used for trips to the empire's jewel.

          "You heard me, all of your snacks," Vera said, her parched voice forcing a growl as she eyed the carriage master in exhaustion. At first the man had assumed Káel to be a joking youth when he approached the counter. Vera could hardly blame him for that mistake. But it was her turn, with the emberstone encrusted family crest under one palm, and a head full of fire red hair, she, the Latos Fireball, was hard to mistake for anyone else.

          "Of course miss, are you quite certai-"

          "All of them!" She roared, slamming a thick coin purse down so hard its side split to bleed a few gold coins. "And I want water. Ice. Cold. Water."

           "Yes miss," the man replied, quickly passing Vera two papers to sign as he rushed off while counting the coins to escape her.

          "Your fastest carriage, you hear me?!" Vera boomed, making sure her voice could carry the stairs he'd already disappeared up. She breathed in a sharp sigh as she faced her silent friends, every inch of her body stiff as a board as she collapsed on a chocolate brown couch to mutter at herself. "I'm getting this skat over with. Not wasting a second. I'm not sitting on a dragon with four other people." She caught Káel's worried gaze, his dumb face still flickering with confusion.

          What on Lumi was there to be confused about?

          She pointed an accusing finger at him. "If your uncle isn't in Fairez Stella, I'm going to kill you myself."

          Káel timidly flicked his gaze left and right, his voice pinched. "Locke said he was..."

          "Dead. I will kill you," Vera seethed, dropping her finger as the door cracked and Locke walked in.

          He'd spoken maybe three times since rescuing them. Vera wasn't surprised. He hadn't spoken much the first time she'd met him either.

          But his face spoke loads.

          Lips plain, brow scrunched ever so slightly. He didn't skim his surroundings. He wasn't curious, he hadn't a single interest in Vera's plan.

          He hated it.

          "Crusty bug infested Inn versus a cushioned carriage pulled by the fastest spearbeaks they've got. Close one, I know. Probably should have gotten Unicorn Boy to decide. He's just brilliant at decisions, isn't he?" Vera started, knowing full well Locke had lost interest in the conversation the moment he walked in. 

          His lack of a response as he lingered by the door solidified that.

          But pounding feet pulled Vera's hazy attention, a spirited young woman racing down the stairs still tying back her golden hair. "One way to Fairez Stella, gorgeous city. Lovely choice." she looked about the space, bouncing her fingers along the guests as she counted under her breath. "This is everyone?"

          "I have a drake the size of a bloodsnout as well," Locke replied. 

          "I have the perfect ride, sir," she replied, looking at Vera and the rest of her group and clapping her hands. "Up now children, I'll show you the ride."

          Vera gritted her teeth, one second from vanquishing the woman's cheery attitude altogether. She probably would have, had she the energy to even cast a rastastrill. But she would endure the assault of poorly timed joy for the godsent taste of food and cold kiss of water. She could eat an entire equaam at this point. 

          She almost did when they were walking the trail.

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Quality Quip #49:

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~ Anonymous