The birds were singing again. They wove song and conversation that filled the bright air with notes of joy. Zolik sat listening to the small light creatures as they flittered between trees, pursuing their simple lives above the ground. He listened for the sounds of all of the species he could recognize. He wished that he could sit and draw the new finch he had seen a mile back, but his hands needed to remain on the reigns of the wily pair of beasts which drew the cart. They had fussed and stirred at every puddle along the way so far making any attempt of drawing impossible. Zolik squinted, tracing the bird in his memory, noting its colors, and which color sticks he would use to shade its plumage. His mother loved it when he brought back pictures of birds. She had lived nearly her entire life within the underground communities of their people, which was common in his particular home city. The dwarves had most everything they needed, and life was good in the city of Petorac. Few needed to set foot on the surface for any reason. Zolik himself had been hesitant when presented with his first opportunity to leave. Now here he was, nearly a decade after his first journey out. A bump caused him to open his eyes from the image of the bird, a groan from Ashlette reminding him to steer clear of protruding and absent stones. He hoped that the journey would go smoothly so that he could sit and accurately add the new bird to his drawing collection. He let out a slow breath, a lingering thought returned from something the day before. The boy had been speaking with someone back in town, and when Zolik had approached he had shrugged off the encounter as being mistaken for someone else. Zolik hoped that it had been that simple and that someone hadn’t been trying to sway the youth. His glaring eyes focused back to the present and spotted a knot in the road, too late to avoid.
“Rock” he grumbled.
The bump bounced the wagon again, the sound of all contents shifted once more. Zolik shook his head, tired of being worried over a stray thought. He took in a deep breath and listened for the birds again.
The trees had gone silent. Zolik nodded slightly to himself, saddened at what it meant. He looked over to Turmer who sat beside him. The boy stared at his book, focused on reading and learning. Zolik could see that it was a new and crisp page, an expense that had not been funded by their last blunder of a quest. He gave a testing poke at the boy’s robes. They were stiff, already magically resistant with his protection magic. A spell Turmer wouldn’t spare effort to maintain unless he knew there would be trouble. Turmer startled at the jab, his eyes meeting Zolik’s. The boy recognized Zolik’s disappointed expression, his own face falling somewhere between embarrassed and afraid. Zolik only bit at the side of his bottom lip, giving a silent bobbing nod of confirmed suspicion. His crossbow locked into place as an unsurprising call of ambush from Fliss was given. “Yup.” Zolik huffed, eyes leaving the conflicted mage and beginning to watch for a potential threat.
Turmer had slunk down in his seat, somberly returning to the comfort of his pages. Zolik watched as the man who had been speaking with the boy back in town stepped out into the road, hand raised for them to halt. The dwarf closed his eyes briefly again, taking one last moment to remember the bird before more coming events would threaten to make him forget.