The platform at Arriza was small.

It was well into the night when we arrived. Light was given by two lanterns hanging from a twisted metal hook. There was no one waiting on the platform. As soon as the small group of passengers disembarked, they dispersed until there was only five left.

Lennon T. James swept his gaze over us. "There is an inn at the border of the town."

Note: Lennon T. James waits for no man or woman. He just walks.

He set off, leaving us to scramble. I felt for my pack, reassuring myself I'd left nothing behind. "Does everyone have everything?"

"Yes." Mitch walked next to me, her fingers hooked around the straps below her shoulders.

Nattaniel grunted an affirmative, walking behind us.

Wade Lyong, however, turned around to face me from where he walked behind Lennon T. James. " Alas, I do not. My favourite watch is not with me, as it's currently at the watchmaker's for repairs, and I am also missing my favourite jacket. It was being mended. Does this jacket suit me, Shae? You seem to be wearing a similar one."

His jacket was of fine make, and by the smile he wore, he knew it. "It's alright, Lyong. Mine has a train and, therefore, is infinitely better."

"Yours is yellow." Lyong turned around, dismissing our conversation as if I had been the one to say something ludicrous. As if I was the one who thought yellow an ugly colour.

The road beneath our feet was uneven. It was a dirt road with no lampposts to light the way. Light shone from behind glass windows. The houses had much space between them compared to the joined buildings lining most of Hanochk's streets.

It was quiet. There was no engine humming or horses plodding or people talking. There was only the soft thud of our boots hitting the street.

The inn was identifiable by its proximity to the stables. There was the occasional sound of a horse snorting or an animal shifting in the straw. The buildings also seemed to have come closer together, as if this was the main street and not on the outskirts of town.

Then again, Arriza was almost as old as Hanochk. Its structure was different from what it was supposed to be, and lopsided because of time. However, as Hanochk stretched and grew, Arriza shrunk in on itself and became smaller.

The door to the inn opened, light spilling out with laughter. We stepped inside, crowded in the doorway as the warmth from the fireplace embraced us.

"Lennon T. James!" The voice was the scent of baking muffins and honey in tea. "We wondered when we might see you next! And you brought friends!"

The woman came into sight, tall and sturdy. She wore an apron over stained trousers and had flour on her cheek. Greying brown hair, hazelnut eyes, bright smile; her presence was comforting.

Lennon T. James clasped hands with her. "Nutty. We need three rooms for tonight."

"And supper, I bet. Look at you all!" A dimple appeared in her cheek. "Come now, what are your names? My name is Nutelle Brok."

If anyone else had spoken that way to us, there would've been hurt pride and retorts. We were not children; don't treat us as such. But when Nutty spoke in that manner, she came across as caring. It was an odd experience you'd understand only if you met her.

In turn, we all introduced ourselves. It was in the blink of an eye that we found ourselves seated around a table. The fur on the chairs was warm and welcome to our tired bones. The bread and cheese tasted better than pastries from the most prominent of bakeries.

"We have a man and a woman waiting for you," Nutty said, setting down steaming mugs in front of us. "They arrived yesterday. I have informed them you're here."

As far as I had known, we weren't expecting anyone. Judging by Lennon T. James stillness, the subtle glance he shot Wade Lyong, it was surprising but not unexpected.

Nutty patted the explorer's shoulder. "It's not like you to travel with a group. Tell me, where are you heading to this time?"

Lennon T. James glanced up at her but scarcely opened his mouth before Lyong spoke.

"The jungle, lovely Mrs Brok. We are on an adventure." He went so far as to add a wink. Sadly, he did not stop there. "This is the best crew Lennon T. James could ask for. A writer, a diplomat, a soldier, a sharpshooter, a thief, and a murderer."

Suddenly, no one was dismissing Lyong's words.

It was easy to place the writer and the soldier; Nattaniel and I were easy to read, and wore our identity within our profession. Lyong had the self-importance to assume he'd be a good diplomat.

"Lyong—" I got no further before two people walked up to our table.

The first was a girl. She had frizzy, unkempt light hair and startling blue eyes. Her hands were hidden in the folds of her skirt, and her smile looked twisted.

The second was a boy. Well, as much boy as Borys Nattaniel and Wade Lyong were. He had a wide grin that seemed kind instead of crazy, and his warm skin had a dry, reddish tint to it that indicated he might be sunburnt.

"Lennon T. James?" The boy had a warm voice. Not low, like Lennon T. James, or passionate, like Lyong. It was laidback. "I have a letter for you, explaining our situation. My name is Gino Morton. This is..." He trailed off, allowing the girl to speak.

She did not.

"This is Ella Siwatskie." Gino Morton pulled a worn envelope from a pocket inside his jacket. "We are to accompany you on your journey, as per royal command."

Confession: I felt like laughing. Hysterically, I might add. Here I was, the first in a long line of people who the king so callously pushed into joining in on an adventure with a leader who worked alone. I was also overtired and thought the shape of the bread looked amusing.

Note: Lennon T. James has a lot of patience. Or, he showcases a lack of emotion due to his reserved personality.

Indeed, Lennon T. James took the letter without a word. He must've felt all seven, including Nutty's, gazes on him because he turned a little to shield his face from us.

"Ella Siwatskie?" Lennon T. James started folding the letter, not looking away from the paper in his hands. "Do you think you're able to join our journey?"

Strands of her hair, knotted and fuzzy, hung in her face, and she tucked it behind her ear before she answered. "Absolutely. I have to do something to redeem myself." Her smile stayed in place, though her eyes wandered beyond the person she was speaking to.

Thief? Murderer?

"Please, take a seat." Lyong stood and pulled out a chair, gesturing for Miss Ella Siwatskie to take the proffered seat. "We have much to discuss before we can set out on our journey tomorrow morning. I assume James will want to start early?"

She perched on the edge of the chair.

Lennon T. James was still staring at the folded paper in his hands. "I intend to buy some supplies. We will set out two hours before noon."

Nutty directed Lyong and Mr Gino Morton to pull up two more chairs. Then she scurried away in search of more food and drink. As we'd watched the interactions between our leader and the newcomers, Nattaniel, Mitch and I had been able to finish our food and drink.

I studied the faces of our team.

Lennon T. James was not what I'd expected. In my head, from all the stories and the newspaper clippings, I'd built up this loud, passionate, outgoing man who spoke his mind and did as he pleased. From what I'd seen, he'd only been arrogant once: in the throne room, addressing the king. After that, he was direct but never cocky.

I wasn't disappointed. He seemed strong, regardless if it was blatant or not. But I felt like I couldn't grasp what he was like, or who he was, or what he thought. H

Wade Lyong had all the arrogance his friend lacked. He was exactly what I'd expected if a bit more fashion-conscious than I'd thought. His jacket was by the best designer in Chileez. I would know: I was wearing the female counterpart.

Borys Nattaniel. I'd known nothing about him prior to meeting him this morning. He was easy to read in that he was focused and blunt. His purpose was to keep Mitch in line, not to make friends or prove himself.

Then there was Mitch. She watched everything and everyone. Her smile was soft and friendly, her posture relaxed. She noticed me looking and raised an eyebrow, and her mug, then refocused on the conversation at hand.

Indeed, the two newcomers were being given instructions that applied to us all. Supplies were being listed by the explorer, in one-word sentences and no explanation. We weren't told why we needed to purchase dried meat instead of fresh. We were only told to do so.

"Shae?" He didn't wait for a response. "I have your supplies but you need new clothing."

I bit my thumbnail. It was with some bitterness that I recalled the suitcases I'd packed, gone home with my father. "What's wrong with what I brought?"

"It's impractical."

"The yellow fabric is offensive and an eyesore. I would have spared your feelings but the colour is the only thing you can notice."

Both Lennon T. James and Lyong spoke, sentences overlapping. Though the former could ignore the latter, I found it very hard to do so.

"Regardless of what you think, Lyong, I'm not giving up my jacket." I looked at Ella Siwatskie. We could talk about supplies and practicalities tomorrow. "Do you have a room, Miss Siwatskie?"

"I'm not a 'miss,' Miss Burrower." Ella pulled a plate closer, plucking a piece of bread from it. "Yes, I do."

I gave a small nod and rose from my seat. "Then, I'm going to retire. Mitch? I assume we're sharing?"

"Absolutely." Mitch languidly stood, gulping the last of her drink and setting it gently on the table. She shot Nattaniel a glare when he also clambered to his feet. "You have no need to follow me. I'm not going anywhere and, as I'm not the murderer Lyong mentioned, Shae will be as safe with me as she'd be with anyone else."

"Besides the murderer," Lyong interrupted. His words brought upon us a terse silence.

Everything was awkward. It had been, up until this point. There was no friendship between us, no common ground besides the reluctance to be here, and no reason to forge relationships. In fact, we were wary of each other.

Just as well.

None of us could foresee the future, and as I write this, none of us could've known what would happen.

🙞

The morning in Arriza dawned with the sun stretching her arms.

It was a slow morning. Waking to the sound of birdsong and a wagon passing by, I lay still and listened to the jaunty song being sung by workers. Curiosity overcame me, and I peeked out the window.

A cartload of workers was passing by, pulled by the largest white horse I'd ever seen. Most of the workers seemed cheerful, handkerchiefs tied around necks and over braided hair.

"They're off to the coffee fields."

Mitch's voice was right behind me, and I jumped a little at hearing it. When I glanced over my shoulder, I could see her looking through the window, brown eyes illuminated by sunlight.

"It's a good job. Steady."

I looked back again, in time to see the wagon go around the corner. Mitch straightened and walked to a pack that had been tossed at the floor by our door. Something seemed different about her.

She was pulling out clothing from the pack, crouched in front of it, when I finally realised what it was.

"You had a bath."

"And breakfast." She was unoffended by my comment. Her hair was still wet, drying as it lay against her back. "Lennon T. James sent this for us via Gino Morton. I don't know what to think about either of them."

My feet carried me closer, casting an eye over the garments in her hands. She was sorting them, holding them up and judging them by size.

"You and me both," I said in answer to her remark.

Mitch was a head taller than me, curvy and strong. I was short and had filled out from the extra sweets I snacked on in the throne room. Her clothing went on a pile, mostly browns and whites, and mine went on the other. It was a distinctly dark brown pile.

As soon as I changed, I knew without a doubt this was a mistake.

"I'm going to be very bad at this adventuring thing."

Mitch looked out from behind the dressing screen. "Why? What's wrong?"

"I'm wearing trousers."

Indeed I was. They were chocolate brown, covered with pockets, and felt too tight. There was a leather strap attached to my one calf, another to my other thigh, and judging by the two sheathed knives on the floor, it was for weapons. My shirt was short-sleeved and grey.

Mitch had disappeared behind the screen. "Shae Burrower, all I ever wear is trousers, and they are the most comfortable thing."

They were ugly. There was no going around it. I looked at the final garment, a fitted brown jacket, and shook my head. "I'm not wearing the jacket."

"Don't tell me you're wearing your yellow one." Mitch was deftly braiding her thick hair back. She stepped over her discarded clothing and came to stand next to me.

We both stared at the new jacket.

"It's so ugly and boring, Mitch. I'm not wearing it." I plucked it from the bed, holding it up for display. It also had pockets everywhere, was losing threads, but was sturdy and functional.

Mitch tied off her braid and took it. "I must say, I have worn jackets finer than this."

I didn't know how to respond to her remark. It was mocking. From what I'd heard, Mitch had never had much, and had always lived two steps from being homeless.

A knock at the door saved me from an awkward situation.

"Come in!" I called, suddenly realising that this trip would lack privacy. From tonight onwards, we'd all be sleeping on the ground together.

It was Borys Nattaniel, who surveyed the room and made sure Mitch was where she should be, how she should be. The girl ignored him.

"Lennon T. James has sent me to inform you have time for breakfast and then we're leaving. We're already behind schedule because the two of you saw fit to sleep in. Nutty has set out food downstairs."

I pulled my yellow jacket on, instantly feeling better. "Are you angry, Nattaniel?"

"No, Miss Burrower. I have a job to do and it is proving harder than I thought." The soldier leaned against the door sill, clearly waiting for us. "We need to leave."

Mitch had rolled her eyes and tossed the unwanted jacket on my unmade bed. She then set about tidying the room as I went through my pack. Everything was there; rope, two notebooks, a case full of pens and ink and charcoal, another knife, and lots more.

"We're coming, Nattaniel. And, please, call me Shae." I slipped my back onto my shoulder. We would be having a hearty breakfast, I already knew, and was looking forward to it. It was our last meal before the wildness. Most likely my last proper meal on earth.

It's too early in the morning to think about death, Shae.

My self-admonishment went unheeded. My thoughts kept circling back to images of me being snapped up by a crocodile, being bitten by a snake, or falling off a cliff no one saw fit to warn me about. Shaking them away, I followed my companions out of the room.

We left both the stolen garments and city skirts behind us.

🙞

author's note

darlings,

i am both aware this is a "filler" chapter and that i am complicating everything by adding two more nutjobs to the whole operation.

it's sort of mandatory ???

any thoughts, critiques, advice? 

i would appreciate it.

also, dedicated to Ranger_of_the_North who has been a constant support of this story-- both in 2018 and 2020. it's good to chat again, friend; can't wait to meet you in the W2R arena. ,-)

<3 klara