The walls of the town rose like jagged teeth against the horizon, taller and more imposing than any building he had seen before. Weathered stone and patched metal formed the fortifications, evidence of repairs made over decades, and watchtowers jutted above the walls like silent sentinels. Dust swirled around the base, kicked up by the footsteps of those entering and leaving, giving the place a life of its own.
Niri wriggled slightly on his shoulder, her three tails flicking in irritation. He glanced down at her, smirking despite the weight of the day.
"Why am I even carrying you?" he muttered, shifting her so she sat more comfortably against his chest. Her grey eyes blinked lazily, pupils changing color in subtle gradients, and she let out a soft, almost disdainful meow as if she were mocking him for questioning it.
He adjusted his grip, letting her settle as he approached the main gate. Merchants called out their wares, and people moved between stalls and alleyways with a practiced, chaotic rhythm. The town felt alive in a way the savannah never had.
He paused at the gate, surveying the scene. The buildings were a patchwork of materials, cobbled together over time, but they hummed with activity. Smoke curled from chimneys, children darted between legs, and the occasional guard kept watch from the walls above.
Carrying Niri made him feel both responsible and ridiculous, but it also grounded him—reminded him that even in this bustling place, he wasn't entirely alone. The taccarox twitched, sensing movement in the crowd, and the young man took a deep breath.
"Alright," he muttered, "let's see what this place has in store for us."
He stepped through the gate, feeling the town's pulse wash over him, Niri still clinging gently against him, and a flicker of cautious hope stirring in his chest.
The streets were narrow and winding, flanked by uneven buildings that leaned against each other for support, creating shadows that danced across the cracked stone and dirt pathways. Stalls lined the roads, some selling fresh produce, others offering rough-hewn tools, scraps of cloth, and odd trinkets from who-knows-where.
People glanced at him as he passed, some curious, others indifferent. His dark hair was matted with sweat, clothes dust-streaked from days in the savannah, and the taccarox perched on his shoulder added a peculiar silhouette. Niri's ears twitched at every sound, her tails flicking uneasily when carts rattled past.
A group of children ran by, one of them pointing at Niri and squealing in delight. He gave a small, tired smile.
He scanned the buildings, searching for signs of a place to rest or someone who might offer information about the town. One structure caught his eye: a tall, rectangular building with a wide doorway and a sign crudely painted with symbols he didn't recognize. Smoke rose from a chimney above, and the faint smell of cooked food drifted toward him.
Stepping closer, he noticed a few people gathered near the entrance, talking in low tones and keeping a wary eye on the street. It looked like a pub of sorts—a hub where townsfolk exchanged news, stories, and probably gossip about outsiders like him.
The young man adjusted the taccarox, who had curled into a ball on his shoulder, and pushed the door open. The warm, smoky air hit him, thick with the scent of roasted meat and wood smoke. Conversations paused for a heartbeat, then resumed, eyes flicking toward him before returning to whatever they had been discussing.
He found an empty corner near the back and set Niri down carefully. The taccarox stretched, sniffing the air curiously, then settled beside him. He leaned back against the wall, scanning the room and its occupants. For the first time in months, he felt the faintest sense of normalcy.
He sighed softly and whispered to Niri, "Alright… let's figure out what kind of place we've stumbled into".
From somewhere near the bar, a gruff voice called out, "New around here, eh? You look like you've been through hell". The young man tensed, instinctively scanning for the source, but also intrigued.
His gaze swept toward the voice, catching sight of a man sitting on a stool near the bar. He was broad-shouldered, with a weathered face lined from years in the sun and wind, a dark beard streaked with grey, and eyes sharp and calculating. A half-empty mug rested on the counter in front of him
"Uh… yeah,"
The man chuckled, a low rumble that seemed to carry authority without raising his voice. "Not many come out here from the savannah. Even fewer with a wild thing like that on their shoulder," he said, nodding at Niri, who blinked lazily back at him. "The name's Jarek"
The young man shifted slightly, adjusting the taccarox. "She's… not dangerous," he said, though he knew she could be if she wanted. "Her name's Niri, I'm Faelan"
"Not dangerous, eh?" The Jarek smirked, leaning forward, elbows resting on the bar. "That's what they all say. But I've learned to read the signs. You've been running, and not from the sun or the wind. Did something chase you? Or did you chase it". The man's eyes narrowed, studying him for a long while. "Mind sharing what it is?"
Faelan swallowed, weighing his options. Trust was still a foreign concept after everything he'd been through. But the man didn't radiate immediate hostility, and the warmth of the pub, the faint smell of food, and the buzz of life around him made Faelan feel maybe, just maybe the world wasn't as dangerous as he thought.
"I… I'm looking for someone... I think" Faelan said finally. "Raja87"
The man laughed, a deep, easy sound. "Sorry, but you can't be serious, whatever it is you're looking, it's an old myth. A tall tale meant to trick gullible people... I'm not saying you're gullible though," Jarek said, trying to be polite. "Look, if something like that was real I'd probably know about it, like how I know who's who and what usually comes from where, and jobs if you're interested".
"What kind of job?" Faelan asked.
"The kind that pays well, they ain't easy though," Jarek replied. "First, you could help out with the walls and building heavy labor, lots of sweat but it keeps you fed. Second, you could join the guards, things may get boring but if anything happens they have to jump in. And then... There's the third option, becoming a messenger, you gotta go between towns delivering supplies, special packages, letter, things like that but you'd mainly be out there in the real world,it gets pretty dangerous, lots of messengers don't make it back home".
"I'll take it, the messenger job" Faelan replied confidently
A flicker of concern appeared on Jarek's face. "Are you sure you want that job?,"
Faelan gave a nod, Jarek acknowledged it,"Alright then let's go," he replied