(A/N: Not much J/V in this chapter, sorry! But don't worry, the plot is beginning to build into something big! I hope you'll all stick around for the show!)

Another week passed without any serious problems, but this time Jet was conscious and able to experience it. For that week Jet lived the life of a normal human being, tied down to the land that he lived in. For a short amount of time, his drifter wings were closed.

Slowly and tremulously his strength began to creep back. It came back in small ways that only Jet himself was able to see. For example, he could hold his Airget-Lamh with one arm without it beginning to shake after a moment, he could walk for short distances without becoming tired, and five days after he had woken up in Baskar, he had helped Shane and Gallows cut wood for the approaching winter. They were small victories at the most, but they meant a lot to him and his self image. The Jet inside him had not died yet.

That strange painful feeling he had felt that evening with Virginia had not resurfaced again.

To be honest, he was grateful to the Carradine family for letting him stay with them at such a short notice. All he was doing was wasting their resources just being there, but for some reason they did not seem to complain. It felt odd to Jet to come to the conclusion that they truly must have wanted him to stay. He guessed that Gallows' family wasn't so bad after all. Jet spent a lot of time with Virginia too, mostly ARM practice and things like that, he was delighted to know that his aim, while it had become a little shaky, was nowhere near as bad as he thought it would be. He could live with a little shakiness if it meant that he was still alive.

Before he knew it, another week had passed, and then another. Jet found himself slipping into a routine that shaped the entirety of his day, it was becoming more and more familiar for him to practice. He would wake up in the mornings and help Shane to fetch water from the well, then he would take a walk and take pot shots at cans lined along a neighbour's fence, or at any kind of vermin-like creature he found along the way. He usually came back in time for himself and Gallows to cut some wood to keep the pyre going in the evening, though Jet used that time to go on casual though mostly fruitless hunting trips with Clive. The rest of the time he spent with Virginia, doing various things.

It occurred to him at one point that this long string of tasks for him to do were a good way for him to earn his keep while he recovered in the colony of Baskar, but another smaller and more cynical voice inside his head whispered to him that it was a trap that fate had set up for him, to steal his drifter wings away for good, for forever. When was the last time he had seen the skyline of another distant city? When was the last time he had eaten wild squirrel in the middle of the wilderness over a hasty fire of knotted dried-out driftwood? When was the last time he had killed a monster in the sheer thrill-filled moment of consummated combat?

Too long, too long ago.

He had been splitting wood with Gallows when this thought crossed his mind. Jet had been working with the slow steady performance of an automaton, slicing the wood with one downward swing of the axe and digging it out of the cutting block again, waiting a good five seconds for Gallows to replace the wood before he started again. His thoughts had turned inwards slowly through his chore and Jet hadn't noticed when Gallows had stopped to say something to him and fouled up the procedure they were working on. To be more precise, Jet had swung the axe down while Gallows' hand had been resting on the cutting block, nearly slicing off one of the young Baskar's fingers. One more inch or so and he definitely would have drawn another person's blood.

"Yeowee!" Gallows cried, ripping his hand away and cradling it against his body in shock. "Pay more attention when you're cutting things, you almost took off one of my fingers! I need that one to curse people!"

"Huh? Oh, sorry Gallows. I guess I was thinking too hard about something." Said Jet in apology, prising the small hatchet out of the chopping block. He placed the head of it on the ground and leant on it like it was a walking stick. "Besides, you're fine."

"Yeah, but that could've turned real ugly real fast." The larger man pressed, letting go of his shock and shaking out his hand, like it would relive the imaginary tension in it. "So what's so important to think about that you're willing to risk my limbs over?" Daringly he added, "Thinking about Virginia?"

"Maybe." Jet replied coyly, looking at him square in the eye for a moment before diverting his gaze to the rising sun. It would reach its peak in the sky very soon. The silver-haired boy was glad for the fact that he and Gallows were doing this chore under the eaves of a large and shady tree. The leaves cast odd formations of light and shadow over his friend's face. "Actually, I've been thinking about other things."

"Such as?" Gallows asked, placing a new cylinder of wood upright on the chopping block.

"It's been about a month since I first fainted for some strange reason or another." He sliced, the wood fell into two chunks and Gallows replaced it. "A month since I fell from the sky and was cut outta the drifting scheme of things." Swing. Cut. Replace. "And I'm beginning to get the feeling that if I don't pick up where I left off soon…" He discovered that the sound of the splintering wood was becoming mildly pleasant to his ears. "I might not find it that easy to begin drifting again. I guess it's beginning to freak me out, but not nearly as much as I thought it would be. That freaks me out even more, if that makes any sense to you."

Gallows had stopped what he was doing, so Jet had no choice to pause as well. The Baskar priest studied his friend well. Jet was wearing blue jeans, a black shirt and not much else because it was such a hot and sweaty day. The boy was actually beginning to understand Gallows' usual lack of a shirt, because it could get so damned hot up there in Baskar, but Jet had not gone that far himself just yet. Gallows' mouth curved into a small smile when he noticed that Jet was wearing a wooden Baskar bracelet on his left wrist, it looked like it had been hand carved carefully and it was decorated with dark red beads and two small hawk feathers on the sides. Had Jet begun to embrace the Baskar culture so quickly? Wow.

"Where'd you get that?" He asked, pointing to the bracelet in question.

Jet looked blank, but then followed the invisible line from the end of Gallows' finger to the bracelet he was wearing. His mind made a connection. Jet raised his arm and looked at the bracelet in contemplation. "This thing? One of the kids from the colony said that they carved it for me, they said that the little pictograms on the wood are supposed to make me heal better and feel stronger. I don't know if it's really working or not, but I didn't expect a kid to give me something out of the blue." He was going to say that he thought the people of Baskar were being unnaturally nice to him, but he unconsciously bit his tongue. Jet didn't feel right about badmouthing or doubting the people who were trying to help him.

Even if Jet didn't believe in the healing powers of the ornament, Gallows felt hope in the fact that Jet was wearing it out of appreciation for the child's gift. He was still experiencing and learning things about people and the world, even now.

"Can I see that?" Gallows asked, standing up and beckoning to Jet. Obligingly the boy placed his hand in Gallows' palm, the beads rattling slightly against the dark rich wood. The Baskar inspected the pictogram carvings carefully, and as he went further into understanding it, he had to press his lips together to keep himself from laughing out loud. The bracelet did indeed bear a healing charm upon it and a prayer for him to recover… but it also said that Jet had cooties as well.

Kids these days.

Gallows let go and turned around, suppressing a snort of laughter. "I think you're being protected from evil real well, Jet." He managed to giggle out. Yeah, that was right, protected by the Guardian of Cooties!

"You laughing at me?" Jet demanded, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"Nope!" Gallows cried, crouching down again and placing some more wood on the chopping block. "C'mon, let's get back to finishing this. Did I mention that you're making my life real easy for me since you turned up and started doin' half my chores?"

"You'd better shut up about it or I'll start to charge you." Jet replied arrogantly, swinging his axe particularly hard down upon the wood. It was hewn cleanly in two but the extra force caused them to fly apart in opposite directions. Gallows was not expecting this and was squatting directly in the piece of wood's trajectory. He was smacked in the face and uttered a startled squawk before keeling over and falling down onto the grass, twitching and attempting to curse.

"Uh…" Jet mumbled. "Sorry again."

xxx

It was the middle of the night.

A girl was waiting at the boundaries of Baskar Colony for a caravan that would arrive at the crack of dawn, one that would be carrying imports from other towns along the Midland area. This was not what interested her, in truth she was waiting anxiously in the muggy twilight for the one who was driving it, her large friendly hulk of a father. The girl was still sleepy but utterly delighted, as she had not seen her father for almost an entire season, and he was the last little bit of family that she had left in the world.

She huddled into herself and her dark woven shawl, though it was a sultry morning, she was still mindful of the mosquitoes and other nasty bugs that were zooming about and through the drab air. She just hated those awful things.

From the distance she could hear a low humming in the air, almost becoming a dull roar. She discounted it as the blood rushing through her ears due to her excitement.

So, because of ignoring this sound, she was not prepared at all when she was taken.

The only thing that alerted the world of her departure was the long, loud, outlandish scream of fright that cut through everything around her, like a hot knife through melting butter.

And the silence that came after was frightening, deafening.

xxx

Jet pushed his way through the steadily thickening crowd of milling, upset Baskars. Virginia, Gallows and Clive were following close behind him in a single file. Halle was standing upon the large flat council stone with her walking stick supporting her aged body, Shane standing quietly by her side. The throng of people was bubbling with frightened exclamations and accusations of each other, but Halle and Shane were the only ones who were silent. The Maxwell Gang had succeeded in pushing their way to the head of the crowd, and when this occurred, the old grizzled elder of the colony sucked morning air into her lungs and screeched;

"QUIET!"

The area around the council stone became as noiseless as the dead. You could have almost heard a pin drop if you tried. Halle coughed. "That's better." She said, in a much lower tone of voice. "Now let's talk about this one at a time. Leo, you can go first."

A veritable giant of a man ascended to the council stone. He was broad-chested and tanned to bronze by the bright Filgaian sun. His hair was an amazingly thick bramble of golden mane. He did indeed look very much like a lion, in appearance, if not in spirit. He appeared to be distraught and scared, yet moderately furious. "I come back from a season of hard thankless work, only to find that my one and only daughter has been kidnapped by a monster, a fiend! Who could have allowed this to happen! Speak!"

A chorus of voices rose up against Halle's wishes.

"A demon, it must have been a demon!"

"The weaver's son has had his eyes on her for quite a while! It could have been him!"

"The loss of a maiden means another drought!"

"The Guardians are displeased with us!"

"ONE AT A TIME!" Halle crowed again, creating a blissful silence once more. The folk who had risen their voices looked down at the ground in shame. Unexpectedly the old woman smiled sunnily, towards Clive who had risen his hand up into the air like a young schoolboy who knew the answer to a teacher's complicated question. "Go ahead, dear."

Jet found Halle's fancy towards Clive particularly disturbing. Clive didn't seem to notice, though, and if he did, he hid it well. The green-haired sniper calmly ascended to the council stone himself and spread his hands a little, in the beginning of a crudely devised speech. "I am sorry," He began, "I am not a true member of this society, but I feel it is in my responsibility to speak like this. I am a drifter and the eradication of large monsters is my specialty, as you can see from my ARM here." His shrugged his right shoulder a bit, drawing attention to the large ARM slung over it. "Let's be rational here. Mr… uh, Mr. Leo, how did you come to know about the disappearance of you daughter?"

"I saw it fly right above my head, right above my own caravan! It had her in its hairy arms, flying off towards the mountains. She was screaming, my little girl was screaming! It's going to take her back to its lair and eat her!"

"Winged monsters usually have their dominions in large cave systems." Clive said knowingly. "Are there any caves around here in Baskar?"

Virginia spoke up. "Um, I'm not from around here either, but I remember seeing big caves up and around the Zenom Mountains, near the Fallen Sanctuary. Does that sound right to you all?" She received a sea of murmurs and agreeing nods.

"And that is south, in the direction that the monster took this girl. The pieces seem to fit." Clive assessed, folding his arms. He placed the next query for Virginia to decide. Looking down at her, he spoke in a quieter voice that was meant only for the Maxwell Gang. "So, what are we to do now? Leader?"

The drifter leader pulled herself out of the crowd. She did not climb up the council stone, but stood level with the mob of people standing in front of her. Gallows and Jet looked at her in expectation. "Time is the most important thing here." She announced, "And if nobody acts now and acts fast, then that little girl will wind up dead! I'm going to volunteer my team to go after the monster! Perhaps we can save her! Please, allow us to try."

Halle offered a crinkled smile. "We would be in debt to you." She rasped.

Virginia looked at the old woman resolutely. "We'll mobilize right away. Clive! Gallows! Come on!"

Clive hopped off the council stone, adjusting the strap of his rifle ARM. Gallows already had his Coyote ARM with him. Jet was still up in the front of the crowd, and as the three drifters pushed their way through, the big Baskar grasped at Jet's pale hand. "You're coming too, right?" He asked eagerly.

Jet was confused at himself for shrinking away and trying to back into the crowd of townspeople, behind another Baskar that was taller and broader than he. The only reason he failed at this was because Gallows had grabbed onto his arm. "But I…" He breathed. "I can't…"

Gallows looked bewildered. "What? Why not?" He asked, letting go.

Because I'm not a drifter anymore, Gallows. I've pretty much signed myself away to this lifestyle and my ARM is too rusty to fight again. Because I've become a person that I would have hated a year or so ago, a cowardly citizen, a person too scared to fly. I might as well accept it, Gallows my friend, when a migratory bird crashes, sometimes it crashes for good.

The boy was going to say as much as he could of that thought that his pride would allow, but Virginia's voice spoke over his, cutting him out. She was deciding his fate without him having any say in the matter, and that, somehow, made Jet mad. "No. He's not coming. Jet is in no condition to fight." He could almost imagine her adding; "And besides, he'll only slow us down."

Jet felt like he was going to say something to her that he might regret later on, but that was when something caught his eye which caused the curse and accusation to die in his throat. He glanced towards the giant of a man named Leo, the father of the missing daughter. He was talking to Halle frantically, perhaps displeased with the poor-looking rescue party that had volunteered their help. He was gesturing wildly with his hands, a carved wooden bracelet rattling against other items of jewelry that he wore, feathers swaying in the wind. Although the pictograms and some parts of the design appeared different, it looked just like the one he was wearing himself.

So the girl that had been kidnapped had been…

That did it.

The rest of the Maxwell Gang had left without him, slipped away whilst he had stared like a dumb oaf at the man upon the pedestal. "Damn you, Virginia." Jet swore, tearing his way through the crowd and towards the Carradine household, where his hand guard, his scarf, and his Airget-Lamh had been put away. "I'm not dead yet." He growled, feeling a demented sensation of righteousness flow through his body once more. It reminded him of the old days, the days of Jet the selfish bastard outlaw.

The boy bit his lip hard when he flung the cottage's door open, it felt like there were two of him now, Jet the mundane citizen, and Jet the outlaw. That was good, there was a version of himself there to man each wing, to help him fly.

Jet had fallen from the wasteland sky, and yes, he knew, there was a good chance that he was dying inside.

His wings had been broken, mangled and torn.

But even if they had not healed, regardless, he was going to fly.