How reminiscent.

Little Fly did not have wings, but she was still covered in feathers. And even though most of those feathers were currently hidden under her oversized clothing, I could still hear and feel a few as I carried her.

Carrying her on my shoulders as I walked reminded me of all those times I’d done the same for Lilly. So long ago, when she had been young.

Most things were light to me. Even heavy stuff became light when I put my mind to it. Yet Fly, like Lilly had been, was so unnoticeable that it was almost worrying. As if they were not real at all, and rather something else. Something ethereal maybe.

Feathers. A child. Light as air. And full of questions.

Yes. Very familiar.

“So they’re foxes?” Fly asked lightly as I slowly ascended the hill.

“Yep. They have ears, somewhat like Renn. Though no tails. Not anymore,” I said.

“Foxes eat birds,” Fly then said.

I smiled at her and nodded. “They try to sometimes, yes.”

She giggled at me and tapped my head. She did it ever so lightly, particularly compared to those who usually did such a thing. “What are you Vim?” she asked happily.

“Someone who seems to work good as a perch, supposedly,” I said lightly as we reached the top of the hill.

I didn’t pause to glance around, since I knew where we were and how far we still had to go, but I still used the vantage point to scan our surroundings. Just in case.

We were alone for as far as I could see, and for as much as I could tell. We were still a day or so from Twin Hills, it was north of us through these hills. We were approaching, thankfully, Porka’s house directly. We’d not have to round or go near Bordu.

“Are you making fun of me?” Fly asked.

“More so was making fun of myself,” I said.

She giggled again, and as she did her little talon feet curled inward. I had to keep an eye on them, since her feet had talons and they could get stuck in my clothes if I wasn’t careful. Them ruining my clothes was not an issue, at all, but I worried over breaking them, or hurting her, by not noticing them being stuck and moving quickly on accident.

I’d feel absolutely terrible if I hurt her. She was as frail as she looked. Which was why it was so odd she reminded me of Lilly.

She had Lilly’s personality, to a point, but not her strength. At all. A bad combination.

Even Lilly with all her strength had needed saving on many occasions thanks to all the trouble she got herself into, what with her hardheaded stubbornness.

“Porka and her family are very good people. Not long before we met you Fly, Renn and I took another young girl about your age to them. She had needed a home,” I said.

“Hm… is this my new home? We didn’t travel as far as I thought we’d need to,” she said lightly.

“I’m not sure. We’ll spend a day or so here, and while we do you can see if you’d be happy here or not. If you do though, you’ll have to be very careful. They have lots of humans that come and go here, since they work the fields,” I said with a gesture around us. We were surrounded by wheat and other grain like crops.

“They… grow all this?” she asked.

“Yep. There’s a human town nearby, Bordu. Humans come from there to work the fields, especially during planting and harvesting seasons. You’d have to either hide in the house, or always wear some kind of robes if you stayed here,” I said.

Fly sighed.

I waited for her to say something, but she didn’t. I felt for the poor girl, but I wasn’t going to lie to her. It was the truth.

She was not human. So she had to live like one who wasn’t.

The problem wasn’t so much that she was a non-human… and covered in feathers… it was rather the sad and simple fact she was now a rarity.

Back in the day she would not be having any issues at all. I would have been able to take her to one of many locations, dozens and dozens, that would have happily accepted her and she them. Yet today…

Today I was down to a handful at best.

The road I was on ended. Or well, turned the wrong way. And kept going the wrong way for as far as the eye could see… so I simply kept on walking forward. Stepping off the flattened dirt path, I stepped through a small patch of basic grass and dirt, and then into the wheat.

Stepping through the knee-high wheat, I did my best to not step on and break too many of the stalks. I tried to search for a path or road nearby, as to get out of the fields as soon as possible.

“Isn’t it too cold for this stuff to grow?” Fly asked as I strode through the sea of grain.

Fields of gold, as many have called them.

“The strand grown here, this species of wheat, is the type that can endure winter. It grows big and strong enough to survive the cold, goes into a hibernation like state, and then once it’s warm again it returns to growing as if winter never happened. And even if the wheat does die, as most of it likely will, it is fine. They’re not really growing this during the winter as to feed themselves but to keep the soil healthy,” I explained.

“Soil…?”

I nodded. “The wheat helps the soil out during the winter. Keeps it just warm enough, and allows nutrients to come and go basically. Think of it kind of like a house, or a bedroom. If no one lives in a place for a long time, and it remains empty for extended periods, it gets all dusty and stuff starts breaking down. Bugs move in. It gets worn and old. The wheat is doing for the soil, the ground, what a person does to a house,” I said.

Fly hummed for a moment and I felt her turn a little, likely to look at the path behind us. I was doing my best to not harm the wheat but I knew I still left a visible path all the same.

“Is it fun? To farm?” she asked.

“It’s hard work. Laborious. Long hours, with little return especially when a crop fails. But there’s a joy to it. It’s soothing to watch something you’ve toiled away on grow and prosper. And then you can feel the pride when you, or others, eat the food you grew yourself. Some of the most content people I’ve ever known were farmers,” I said.

“Content?” she asked.

“Happy. Satisfied. In that context I meant that a farmer is usually very at peace with themselves, even if poor or exhausted,” I said.

“I’d rather not be exhausted or hungry. I did that before,” Fly said simply.

I nodded. “Don’t blame you at all.”

“Basically all I heard from you is that it’s a whole lot of hard work, and you have to really try and trick yourself to enjoy it,” Fly said.

I laughed at her. “Now, now. Don’t insult farmers, they grow your food.”

“I’m not insulting them. If anything I’m pitying them,” she said, and I heard her smirk.

“Well… you’re not wrong. I myself never have cared much for farming. If I was to do a bunch of monotonous labor day in and day out I’d rather do it on the sea. If I had to do it on land… well… I guess building roads is fun,” I said as I thought about it.

“Roads…?”

I nodded as we approached one. It wasn’t leading directly in the direction we wanted, but I knew it eventually would. It’d likely only add an hour or two to our travels by sticking to it, so that I’d stop destroying any of the wheat.

Usually I’d not mind such a thing… but if any of the local humans saw me destroying their fields so brazenly as I was, they’d likely pick a fight. Even if they didn’t work these fields, there was a very good chance their family members or friends did. And they’d not take kindly seeing their fellow’s hard work go to waste in such a way.

“How far are we from Renn now?” Fly asked.

“Just a few days from here. If I don’t have any major things I need to do here and we can leave soon enough you’ll be able to bug her within the week,” I said.

Fly hummed at me. “You mean stuff like you did previously,” she said.

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I nodded.

“Checking the fence at the Bell Church. Fixing that grinding thingy… dealing with me and my master in Lumen. Are you always doing crazy stuff everywhere you go?” Fly asked.

“Sometimes. Most places I visit, and the stuff I need to do at them, are rather boring to be honest.”

“Are there lots of monsters, Vim? Everyone at the Bell Church said that the master was a monarch. That there used to be a lot of them, but now there isn’t,” Fly asked.

“They had not been monarchs, Fly. Descendants of them, yes very likely, but they themselves had not been anything but normal creatures,” I said.

Fly shifted a little. “What’s the difference?”

“Monarchs are special. Usually they’re more dangerous. I say usually because your master, those weird plant things, had been rather dangerous. I honestly don’t know if the humans would have been able to slay them on their own. That’s quite a feat for a creature of flesh and bone,” I said.

“Hm… how are you able to defeat them, then?” she asked.

“I’m special too, in my own way.”

“How so?”

I smiled at her childish tone. It sounded so much more innocent coming from her than when Renn asked such questions. Though that might just be because of how hard it was for me to lie to Renn, or ignore her.

“Just as you are special in your own way, Fly, so am I. It’s just instead of having feathers or talons,” I said with a light tap on her right foot. “I have great strength and resilience.”

“Can I get as strong as you?” she asked.

“No. But you can get stronger, if you try. There are ways to train. Proper ways to eat. But no, no one can get as strong as me,” I said.

“No one…? At all?”

I shook my head.

“Hm…” Fly hummed at me as a light gust blew past. The world became a tad noisy as all the wheat around us flowed and swayed alongside the breeze.

“But yes… Monarchs are rare now. I used to encounter them often. Now I can go years and years without running into one, though for some reason I’ve ran into a few lately. Happenstance, I suppose,” I said, and slightly hoped.

“Some of the sisters, at the Bell Church, said we’re descendants from them. That they’re our gods,” Fly said.

I nodded. “Some believe that, yes. Their faith has a form of that belief in it, kind of claiming monarchs to be angels and whatnot,” I said.

“Are we though?” Fly asked the obvious question that usually followed such a thing.

“In a way. Non-humans are descendants of monarchs, basically.”

“Huh… is that why some of us are like me?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Then why are so many like you too?” she asked further.

“The bloodlines thin as the generations go by. For instance any children you have will likely be less bird than you. And their children even less so. It’ll likely not take many generations for your descendants to become nearly completely human looking. What with no feathers, or talons,” I explained.

“So… I could give birth to humans?” she asked.

I nodded again. “That’s one way of looking at it.”

“Which means the humans came from us,” she reasoned.

I chuckled at her. “So some say, yes.”

Fly hummed as she pondered that new information, and I noticed as she did her humming had a slight rhythm to it. As if she was humming a song.

Renn hummed like that sometimes. Absentmindedly too.

Thinking of her made me realize my mind had been drifting to her often lately. Even though it’s only been a couple weeks since we’d parted.

Hopefully she had made it to Lilly safely. She should be there by now, even with Cat in tow.

Actually by now they’d likely already headed out, to find Cat’s home. I hoped it was all going well. Between Renn and Lilly they’d likely find the village, even if Cat failed to guide them properly. The real worry wouldn’t be if they found that village, but what would happen afterwards.

It was the village of Renn’s friend. Her witch friend. Descendants of her, at least.

“What you thinking about?” Fly then asked.

“If I’ll have to destroy a village or not soon,” I said lightly.

She shifted a little on my shoulders. “Which one?” she asked in a way that told me she was looking around, likely for the village I spoke of.

I smiled at the fact that she didn’t seem too worried, but instead interested and excited over it. She really was similar to Lilly.

A rarity amongst birds. They were usually as timid as they were feeble.

“You like to sing Fly?” I asked.

She shifted again, likely because I had just changed topics rather abruptly, and hummed at me. “Not really.”

“You sound offended I asked,” I noted.

“Because you assumed I’d like to sing just because I’m a bird, right? Everyone else does that too. It’s annoying,” she said with a huff.

“Everyone else?” I asked.

“All the people at the Bell Church. And some at Lumen too.”

Ah. I see. “Well, it’s likely also because you have a pretty voice,” I said. I’d comment on how she had a rhythm when she hummed, and that it was pleasant on the ears, but decided not to. She’d likely stop doing it if I made her conscious of it.

Fly shifted again. “I have a pretty voice?” she asked.

I nodded. “You do. I bet you could hit a lot of good notes if you sung.”

“I don’t know how to sing,” she said gently.

“One of the best singers I ever knew claimed one could not be taught how to sing. That it was something you’re born with,” I said.

“People can’t learn how to sing?”

I shrugged gently, as to not bother Fly. “It’s just something they said.”

She hummed, though this time normally.

“Can Renn sing?” she asked.

I blinked at that, and frowned.

For a few moments I walked quietly as I thought of Renn’s voice and her humming.

Yes. She too had a nice voice. And although I myself had never heard it, I have been told by others that she could sing. And did so well, even though embarrassed when doing so.

“I’ve been told she can, yes,” I said gently as I wondered why I’d never heard her do so before.

“You… don’t know?” she asked, sounding as perplexed as I felt.

“No. I’ve never heard it myself. I wonder why, I had planned to hear it for some time now. I guess I’ve just been distracted and busy,” I said.

Fly hummed at me. “Are you a bad husband Vim?” she asked.

I smirked at that. “Maybe. Possibly… I might be, yes.”

She sighed. “Poor Renn.”

Yes. Poor Renn indeed.

We finally reached the new road, and I left the field of wheat and stepped upon it. It was a similarly dirt road, though one packed and flattened over the many years of use. It was wide enough for a larger wagon, but I didn’t see any fresh tracks upon it. It’s likely been several days since it’s been used.

As I strode along the path, I noticed in the distance some signs we were nearing our destination. There were small gray smoke stacks lazily floating into the air, likely a home or farm. Probably one of the human families that lived around here and helped manage the fields.

Fly shifted, and then rested her arms upon my head. I barely noticed the shift in weight, but now it was directed onto my head. She had likely just leaned onto my head as to rest a little. “How much farther?” she asked.

“Still a day or so away, Fly,” I told her again. Hadn’t I just said so?

“So… they work all these fields? And we’re a day away? How much food is this?” she asked.

I smiled at her. “They manage the workers who work these fields. These will end here shortly, turning back into grassy hills, and then more wheat will appear. There’s a lot, but there’s not as much as you might think. It takes almost as much wheat as you could wrap your arms around to make a single loaf of bread,” I said.

“Hm,” she didn’t sound convinced so I pointed to the smoke in the distance.

“See that smoke? That’s likely one of the farmsteads. It’s not our destination, but they work alongside and with the foxes,” I said.

“Why’s it take so much to make a single piece of bread?” she asked.

“Because the only part that makes the food, the flour, is those stuff at the top. The grains,” I said. I stepped closer to the wheat and plucked one for her. Holding it up to her, Fly took it as to study it. I heard her poke and prod the spikelet, messing with the grains.

“Who figured out this stuff turns into bread?” she asked.

“I’ve been told it was figured out a very long time ago, and was likely figured out not because whoever did so was trying to make food but rather drinks instead,” I said.

“Drinks…?”

I nodded. “Alcohol, to be more specific. Though I suppose people have been making bread-stuff for long since before then, just using the more basic methods,” I said as I thought about it.

“Basic methods…?” she asked.

“Basically the nicer tasting breads take a little more than just mixing the flour with water. Basic bread has been around for almost forever, while the nice stuff is more recent,” I explained a little further.

She hummed and the end of the wheat stalk smacked me in the face as she moved it around. It bounced around in front of me, hitting me occasionally, until she snapped it into pieces and dropped most of it. The wheat stalk fell, and I heard her munch on the grains… but only for a moment.

“Doesn’t taste like bread,” she complained with a more disappointed tone than an annoyed, or disgusted one.

“Well, no. It wouldn’t.”

Fly sighed and tossed the rest of the wheat.

About to tell her that birds munched on such things often, and so thus she should have enjoyed it, I was interrupted by a very particular sound.

At first I wondered if I had misheard, but then I heard the sound again. This time coming from multiple sources.

I heard the sounds before I saw them. It took a moment to find them, but I eventually found the little balls of fuzz and claws in the distance.

A pair of small kittens were playing on the road ahead of us. Pouncing on each other and chasing each other around. The sight of them reminded me that this area had hundreds of them.

“What are those?” Fly asks, likely noticing them too.

“Cats.”

“Cats…? Oh. I don’t like cats.”

“Hm…? Why not? Renn’s a cat,” I said.

“Huh? Oh. When I lived in the sewers they’d steal my food. Whenever I tried to stash it, they’d always make a mess of my little sleeping area trying to get it. They were really the only animals that ever came down into the sewers so they were annoying,” Fly explained.

I nodded slowly. That made a lot of sense, actually.

Yet even still…

As we neared the kittens, instead of them running away at the sight of us they instead paused and mewed. Several more smaller cats stepped out of the wheat stalks, hurrying onto the road as they all began to approach us and meow excitedly. As if we were long lost friends that were carrying food.

“Oh my gosh! So cute!” Fly seemingly forgot all about her rough past and hatred as she hurriedly tried to climb off me, as to greet the tiny kittens.

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