July 26th, 2815

Alyn woke that morning to a weight dropped on her bony chest. She cringed and coughed and pushed the dull sword off.

"I'm a mornin' person, Master Hughes. Don't you be ruinin' that for me, hear?"

Hughes shrugged apathetically and took a swig of his potion-tainted coffee. The shadows around his eyes were darker than usual. "It's six o'clock. Get up."

Alyn groaned and rubbed her ribs. A bruise was sure to develop. It mattered little, however, for her whole body was sore. The new panging neatly fell into place with what was already there. Her first endeavors in blacksmithing had exhausted her.

"Up. Now."

Alyn lugged herself to her feet. She cracked her back, she cracked her neck.

Master Hughes picked up her sword and thrust it at her. He caught her with a hand to the scruff before she could tumble over. He drove her out of the wagon and followed her out to a dusty dirt street. He stood over her.

"Aw, Master Hughes...," she complained. She pushed herself to her knees and clutched at the hilt of her sword. The leather strips felt uncomfortable, wrapped too thickly and too unevenly, but the wrappings fit her palm well enough. The sword itself weighed lead-heavy on one side, making it awkward to lift. "Why you gotta be so rough, huh?"

"Are you defective?" Hughes asked gruffly. He yanked her up by her jacket collar.

"Am I what?" Alyn stepped twice to find her balance. Hughes held her in place.

"Broken, weird... ah, disabled?" Master Hughes knew West Haven to home a great many disabled orphans. Either she was merely unfortunately clumsy, or there was something wrong with those feet. He was convinced of the latter.

"No," Alyn grumbled. "I'm not."

Alyn rubbed the sleep from her eyes and looked away from the blacksmith to take in the rest of the new town. She would describe it as brown. Brown dirt streets, brown buildings, once-white canvases browned over time. Just like how the people in Addinburgh had been gray, the people of Quales were brown. There seemed to be more people here.

"What do you keep falling over for?" Hughes questioned. "Stumbling about, like a drunk?"

"Funny thing, sir, Master Hughes, sir," Alyn replied blandly. "I fall when I get shoved. You fall when you're drunk."

"Hmph."

Hughes got her stumbling forwards again, towards a large painted sign leaned against a post. Though Alyn could not read the sign, she could see what was behind it. Blacksmithing equipment spread around the open area, shaded beneath a large canvas. Steel strips, only a yard high, made do for borders. The shop was set up on the corner of a street, and the buildings on either side of it made up two walls.

Hughes released her collar inside of the open workshop. There were two men banging on metal. One had white skin that appeared brown under filth, the other had brown skin that was painted black with soot.

Master Hughes pointed Alyn towards a station with a piece of equipment that appeared as little more than a heavy, textured donut on a stand. He tossed her a bottle the size of her hand and she stumbled to catch it. "Pour that on the blade's edges to soften them. Sharpen it evenly. I'll be back in an hour."

***

The blacksmith returned a prompt fifty minutes later, carrying coils of rope that ended in iron grappling hooks around his shoulders. He dropped the two thick coils around her scrawny shoulders so that she stumbled foolishly backwards again.

"It isn't right," he said, watching her boots scuffle over the dirt

"They're heavy," Alyn argued, raising her sharpened blade, "and my hands were full!"

He ushered the filthy apprentice into the wagon impatiently and whisked her away to a crater at the very center of Quales. They stood at the edge and looked down at a pool of water far below. They each held their own coil, now.

Master Hughes was intent on getting down to the water and back up before the market opened at nine, for an obscure reason that he failed to properly explain. The tape spread around the scene, patterned with a repeating "CAUTION: DO NOT CROSS", did not discourage the blacksmith in the slightest. The black and yellow stripes did, however, deter Alyn.

As did the dangerous climb.

"What do you want to go down there for, anyways?" She was a rotten climber. Shamefully rotten.

Master Hughes rubbed his hands together and pulled the rope from his shoulder. While Alyn had sharpened her sword, Hughes had been out preparing to go climbing in what had once been a lake. There was a dying freshwater spring at the pit's bottom. Most of the town's water was pumped from it through lines of underground plumbing and a close-by well.

"Water," Hughes grunted. "Patriot's guzzled it all."

"Couldn't you just get water somewhere in town?"

"Here, it's free and a challenge, stupid girl." Hughes prepared the ropes, fastening ends to the wagon's heavy wheels.

"That don't make sense. Those ropes would'a cost more than water... Why do I have to come?"

"Shut up, girl. Here."

Alyn reluctantly trudged to accept the rope. Hughes grabbed his rope, swung it under himself like a pulley, and jumped over the edge.

"You're tied to me, stupid girl." He leaned back, holding himself firmly against the steep crater edge, and gestured to the third, shorter rope that looped around each of their waists. "Get climbing or I'll pull you in."

She whined and, after sliding, howling in pain and fear, down the steep part of the crater's edge and dangling uselessly under Hughes for most of the climb, she found herself wading through the drained lake water not long after. They had left their coats with Patriot and the wagon.

Hughes swore and massaged his waist, throwing the support rope off, then the water canteen—roughly the size of a diving tank. He pressed his forearms against the crater and leaned into them, concealing his face so that all that indicated his frustration to her was the rippling tension seizing his shoulders and the low, incoherent growls that frothed from his lips.

"I said I didn't want to come," she mumbled.

He pounded his fist against the crater, and a chunk of mud wall popped out and skipped into the water. He exhaled through his teeth and pressed his thumb to his temple. "Never mind. Never mind." He spun his finger in front of her. "Turn around."

His voice was tense and low and, wary of it, she turned quickly. He untied the canteen from her back and ordered her to fill it. It was only half the size of his own.

He held his beneath the water and she did the same. When the bubbles ceased to drift from the containers, the pair screwed on their lids and strapped their canteens to their backs.

"I'm not too good at climbin', sir," Alyn mumbled. She had fallen going down, and that was frightening enough, but going up was different. Going up was harder. Her arms felt limp, like rubber. The packed, dried mud looked even less stable from the bottom of the lake.

"Make do," Hughes growled. He pulled a small pouch from his waistband. The water hadn't gotten to it. "I won't carry you again."

Alyn blinked. "What's that?"

Master Hughes opened the pouch and picked out a small, pointed oval-shaped item that Alyn quickly recognized as a seed. It wasn't a seed for any alchemical plant—not any that she knew of.

Hughes replaced the pouch at his waistband and leaned against the crater wall.

"What kind of seed is that?" Alyn asked.

"Sunflower," he grunted, almost too quietly.

Puzzled, she pressed her knuckles to her lips. Sunflower seeds were rare, she had heard.

"What're you doing there?" she asked.

Hughes pushed the seed into the damp soil just above the water's edge. He covered the hole and stepped back. "Hoping." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. It disappeared as quickly as it had come.

The real reason for scaling the crater dawned on the girl. Of course, it hadn't been to collect water. She grinned.

"You're planting a flower!" she exclaimed. She jumped up to lightly punch his shoulder. "What a softie!"

Hughes shrugged off the punch, expressionless. "Can't say that it will grow, but I can hope. Last year's didn't." He put a hand to the earth.

"Aww!" Alyn cooed. She jumped from foot to foot beneath the water and squealed in delight. "So, you like flowers, huh?"

Hughes ignored her and picked up the two filled containers. He bound them both around himself, steps heavy. He took hold of his rope. "Start climbing, girl," he ordered, and took his first step up the hard mud crater.

The smile fell from her freckled cheeks. The fear resurfaced in her stomach. She untucked her soaking breeches from her boots in the attempt to stop them clinging to her fur.

With a sour mutter and a wish for her own luck, she exhaled and hesitantly reached for her rope.

Master Hughes reached the top long before she had even made it halfway. The crater's sides only became steeper the higher she went. Alyn could not bring herself to overcome the steepest part. She hugged her rope for dear life. Her knees knocked.

Hughes disappeared with the water tanks.

Alyn squeezed her eyes shut and shivered. She focused on keeping her boot heels pinned to the wall.

"Master Hughes!" she pitifully mewled. She called for him many times, but remained alone for a dreadful stretch.

The blacksmith returned with a scowl, dressed again in his trench coat. His trousers were strangely dry. "Get climbing, stupid girl."

Alyn swallowed and dug her rubber boot heels into the packed mud. Her hooves, her strange, useless hooves, hid there. She shuffled them a few steps further, but lost traction. In fear, she hugged the rope tighter. Every muscle seemed to quiver.

"What is wrong with you? Use your toes, idiot. That's why you've got 'em."

But, alas, Alyn did not have toes. She planted her heels firmly on the hard surface again, grit her teeth, and hauled herself up another few feet.

"Use your toes," Hughes barked.

She stopped.

"Why did you make me do this?" she wailed. He didn't need to go abseiling for water. He could have planted the seed without her. She shut her eyes and tried to calm herself. Her knees bent closer to the wall.

Master Hughes stared at her feet. She was unaware of how far she leaned forward. The blacksmith smacked a hand to his jaw and blinked. He blinked again. Her boots bent nearly in half against the crater's side. There appeared to be no bone at all past her heels. Hughes' expression blanked, jaw unhinged.

"Alyn," there was a tremor in his voice. He spoke her name for the first time. "Alyn, what is wrong with your feet?"

Alyn jolted and sprung back without so much as a peek. Her feet appeared normal again. "Nothing."

His brows sank. "Don't give me that." He grabbed on to her rope. "Hold on."

Alyn wouldn't have dreamed of letting go. She took easy steps against the wall, led by Hughes' relieving tug. He pulled her in until she could reach the surface edge. As soon as she came into his reach, he wrenched her arm and dragged her out of the crater. She rolled on the ground, moaned, and pulled at her sticky breeches.

"Take off your boots," Master Hughes commanded with a flick of his hand.

"Oh, come on, sir, is that really—"

"TAKE OFF YOUR BOOTS!" He threw his fists to his sides.

Alyn flinched. He ears drew back beneath her hat. Suddenly pale, she rose. She took a cautious step away, trembling. "No, sir."

He lunged at her. She cried out as his grip crushed her bicep.

"Let me go! Let go, let go!"

He dragged her towards the wagon, and for the first time, she tried to get away from him. For the first time, he wouldn't let her. He threw her into the back and pulled the cover over the entrance. Heart pounding, Alyn scrambled back against the wall. She clawed at the wood slide that covered the window to the steering bench.

Hughes grabbed her and yanked her back. "Take off your boots this instant, girl."

Alyn uselessly swatted at him. "No!" She twisted and squirmed. "Leave me alone!"

He bent down and yanked the boots off himself, sweeping her off her feet. Alyn hollered and landed sorely on her tail. She panicked at the sight of her bared hooves and the matted fur of what she had always called her shin.

She screamed and kicked herself into a corner. "GET AWAY! GET AWAY FROM ME!"

She tried to hide, but there was nowhere to go.

Hughes stared, eyes wide and quivering and unusually wet. He ran a hand through his hair. "Take off your hat." His voice was harsh, despite his otherwise stunned demeanor.

Alyn clenched her fingers around her hat and loudly protested. "NO. There is nothing there! I-I'm not a freak! I'm not, I'm not."

Hughes batted off her hat and stumbled back an incredulous step. Alyn's large furry ears flopped down from where they had been tucked. Her aviator goggles clattered on the floor. The blacksmith prodded her horns and ran her ears through his hands. His eyes lit. A corner of his lips perked, just for a moment. "Pants," he said. "Take off your pants."

Alyn howled and kicked at him. "You're insane!" She thrashed as he bent over her.

He picked at her belts, undeterred. She wore three, which Hughes thought was very impractical.

"HELP!" she howled. "HELP! HELP!"

Hughes snapped at her. "Be quiet."

"No! Stop molesterin' me! Rape! Help. RAPE!"

Hughes clamped his hand over her mouth. Anxiety flickered on his face and his eyes flicked to the wagon's back. "Shut up. Someone could hear you."

Alyn chomped on his hand. "That's the point. HE-E-ELP!"

Hughes snarled and slapped her across the cheek. "Silence. I am not molesting you. We both know I won't see anything private."

She clung to her breeches and kept on kicking. She screamed and cried. "Just stop it!"

He wrenched her breeches off and tossed them aside, as though it were an acceptable thing to do. From the waist down, Alyn had a thick growth of dark brown fur.

She pulled her freakish legs to her chest, trying to stop the shaking. She swallowed and took deep breaths. A tear ran down her cheek. "What are you going to do now?"

She felt the most vulnerable that she had ever been.

Hughes shook his head and drew in his brows. He hit the pair of braces tightly taped around her knees and hocks. She had made them herself out of rulers and duct tape in the attempt to make her legs appear more normal under her oversize breeches.

"What the hell is this?" Hughes barked.

Alyn swallowed again, unsure of what he was referring to. "I... It's not my fault that I... I..."

"You stupid, stupid girl," he chastened. He picked at the mess of tape and swore at her under his breath. He snatched his belt of knives from the top of a barrel and knelt. He drew a knife and sawed the braces off. Patches of missing fur exposed goose-bumped and damaged pink skin. "Idiot." He rubbed his jaw and placed two fingers against one of the scars. "We will take care of this, and then, you will go back to West Haven. Immediately."

He wrung out her pants and threw them at her.

"I'm sorry I frightened you," he added.

Alyn kicked his knee and smacked his hand away. "As if! You're a real piece of work, Master Hughes." She pushed her breeches aside and coddled her familiar wounds. She spat, finding her courage. "I ain't goin' nowhere. I'm not a cripple. I can do anything that you can do. Fuzzy legs or otherwise, I ain't goin'."

"You don't know what you are, stupid girl," Hughes snapped.

"A freak! Say it, I dare you."

"You are not a freak." The blacksmith scowled. He sat back and looked her up and down. He shook his head and ran a hand over his untidy whiskers. His gloves made a faint scratching noise against the stiff hairs. His eyes softened. His expression melted away. "By all things good in the world, child, you are not a freak. You are a miracle. You are..." A soft whimper sounded, like a word caught in his throat.

Alyn squinted and cocked her head to one side. A miracle? To be half an animal?

"Was it the absinthe?" He breathed and tears welled in his eyes. "Are you real?"

The girl huffed and folded her arms. "Of course, I'm real. I know it's weird and all, but I... I don't know! What am I supposed to say? I'm a weird, gross hybrid thing. I never asked for it."

"Hybrid? No." Hughes leaned forward. He reached for one of her ears with shaking hands and brushed her dark curls away. A single tear darted down his cheek and disappeared in his whiskers. He shook his head some more, disbelieving. Though he was being strangely gentle, Alyn flinched and stiffened at his touch. "Not even sewn on," he whispered, and there was a touch of joy to his voice that Alyn simply did not understand. He dried his eyes.

"Sewn on? Who would sew ugly animal ears onto a person? That's just..."

He gave her a patronizing look, which she was much more accustomed to. The look that made her feel stupid. She reddened.

"Who do you think?" he drawled.

"Shir family?" she mumbled.

"Undoubtedly." He pet her ears again.

Alyn uncomfortably shifted. Her sense told her to get away from the man. Her nerves agreed. Her heart was racing. But, there was something about the way that he reacted that was almost childlike. As if he didn't know any better. Alyn was intrigued by his innocence.

She waited for him to stop. Her eyes flicked from her twiddling thumbs to look into his wonder-filled gaze, then down again. She cleared her throat.

Master Hughes coughed and pulled away. One hand went to his lips, and his threadbare gloves scratched against his whiskers once more. His other hand sat on his hip, pushing aside his trench coat. He paced to the opposite corner.

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

"Okay," he said, after a pause. A long exhale indicated that he had recovered his adulthood. "I can't be selfish. I can't be irresponsible. I will drive you back to West Haven and..."

"No!"

Master Hughes faced her again. "You can't go to Ban-Ken. You can't be seen."

"I can, too," Alyn argued. She got to her hooves and snatched up her cap. She fixed it on her head, without properly tucking in her ears. Without the braces and the boots, she felt stable for the first time in a long while. "You seemed all right with me going with yous before. Why does you seeing my legs change anything?"

He laughed condescendingly. "You really are thick-headed, girl. You don't don't know anything about what you are, do you?"

"And you do?"

"Are you kidding? You are a faun, stupid girl! I have," he giggled and combed his fingers through his hair, "I have studied and searched for your species for as long as I can remember!" He took ahold of her shoulders. "One of Ferdinand Polcene's inventions! I thought... Everyone thought.... your species was killed before it had a chance. But, no." His brows slanted to his messy hairline and he wrung his hands. "Despite all accounts from the books, here you are... That means there must be more somewhere. Somewhere..." His palm pressed to his forehead and he shook his head.

Alyn frowned. "I'm an invention?"

"A miracle. A godsend, a big, big hope," Master Hughes expressed. "But, if the Shirs find out about you... Suffice it say, there are worse things than death."

Alyn tugged at her ears. "I don't get it." She tucked them away. "What would they want me for?"

"Your abilities, stupid girl. They will try to dissect you for your abilities."

"Abilities?" She scratched her cheek. "I ain't nothin' special, Master Hughes. All that's different 'bout me is a bit of extra hair, is all."

The blacksmith ogled her incredulously. As if he were in the unfortunate position of explaining how to walk to the grown child. "You mean... you don't know? You've never... never used them?"

"Used what, sir?"

Hughes paused. He took the pouch from his waistband and tipped a single sunflower seed into her palm. He stepped back and nodded.

Alyn's eyes glazed uncomprehendingly.

Hughes' face gradually fell.

"You're supposed to grow it," he said. As if letting her know would change things. As if knowing what he wanted would inspire her to magic the seed into a flower.

Alyn's brows lifted. "Er..." She returned the seed to his hand and gave him an awkward pat. Overwhelmed people could say some crazy things, right? "I'm not a wizard, Master Hughes. I can't magically make a sunflower outta this."

"But, you... You..." He fumbled with the seed. His cheeks flushed. "I...! It's not magic! It is technology. Y-you have to control it."

"I'm not a machine," Alyn answered. "Why don't you just sit yerself down, sir? And, ah... Come to yer senses?"

Despondently, a whine escaped him. He took a few steps to a three-legged stool and collapsed onto it, head in his hands. He clenched fistfuls of his rusty hair. In one fist was the seed. His shoulders shrugged up to his ears. "You have to go back."

"I am not going back."

"I told you..."

"No!" Alyn picked up her breeches. Without the braces, they would likely look odd on her, but, Hughes had seemed agitated by the rulers. "Look, I'm coming with you to Ban-Ken. I'm going to learn how to use a sword, and I'm going to become a blacksmith, and we're going to put a stop to the bad guys."

"Think about it. Do you really want to risk...?"

"Yes. I want to risk it," Alyn interrupted. So, the Shir family was a nest of bad eggs. Someone had to take care of them. If not her, with Master Hughes, then who? "There's nothing in West Haven that I want to go back to. And you need me." Before Hughes could argue, she insisted, "Trust me. You really, really need me."

In truth, she didn't have a reason why. But, she wanted to go with the man. She wanted adventure. She wanted to make something of herself.

Master Hughes audibly exhaled. Something deep down in his mind, accompanied by a twinge of pain in his temple, believed her, agreed with her. He spread his hands in a submissive gesture, eyes older, suddenly tired. "All right," he whispered.

And that was that.