Travelling has always been my favorite thing to do, but this… this is exhilarating.
Last night, the pale one- Ulki- almost caught my con before I could start it. My heart had been beating so hard at the thought of flying that I thought it was going to burst through my chest! Ulki could hear it though; I guess he isn't called the King's Ears for nothing. I had to make myself sound breathless, which I was from the thought of flying, and thank them profusely for their help. Stupid marks. If they ever catch on to my deception, I'll quit the con life and become a farmer.
Not.
I love this life too much to give it up. It's like a drug for me. Some people smoke weed, get high, come down. Others drink alcohol, get drunk, get hung over. Still others cut themselves, scare themselves, fight, whatever. Some of these things are okay too, in their own right, but none of them get me high or drunk like a good lie. The thrill of being in control behind the scenes, of tricking people, of maybe getting caught- that's what gets me high.
And also, apparently, flying.
Wind whipping through my hair, the ground so far below me, the wonder of the fact that I am hundreds of feet in the air- this is what I was always looking for, when I was a kid. All of the jumping off things and out of trees and riding over waterfalls… this is the feeling I was trying to capture. It's just like my dreams.
I think my grandmother must have given my mother impressions of what it was like when she flew, which my mother then passed to me through her Curse. Mother could show me things that I'd never seen, that she'd never seen, and make me feel things I'd never felt. Even though I have "wings" of my own, I'll never be able to fly with them. I used to consider that my Curse, until I found mine- though really, it was Curses in my case.
Even among freaks I'm a freak.
Wait- why can't I breathe?
I look down at Janaff- he actually volunteered to carry me- and tap on his head. I signal that I need to talk to him, and he proceeds to land. Quite a process, actually, since we're so high up. The others follow, probably concerned as to why we would be stopping.
Once we get to the ground I feel fine, and everyone looks at me strangely. I feel the blood rushing to my cheeks again- Goddess, it's a wonder that I make it as a con!- and I start to think that maybe I should have just not said anything.
Oh for Altina's sake, just spit it out!
"I couldn't breathe."
"Oh- sorry about that! I guess I flew too high for you. You aren't used to this, are you?" Janaff asks.
No, as a matter of fact, my grandmother did not ever conceive that I may need to know that there is no air for me to breathe waaaaaay up in the big blue yonder when she inadvertently transferred her memories of flying to my mother who then gave them to me!
I shake my head.
"Sorry 'bout that!" he repeats, "I'll just fly lower from now on."
I immediately feel bad about my internal burst of anger. I wish he could talk to me in bird form- I love his voice. It makes my skin feel warm, and it gets so cold up there in the wind. If he could talk to me while I was flying with him, I wouldn't freeze up there.
"You don't have to do that. I- I saw a caravan not too far from here. I can see if they're going the same way, and travel with them instead."
… What on earth? I can't seriously be feeling bad for these marks? I don't feel anything for anyone unless it's hatred- with the exception of Jessob. I love Jessob more than I love myself. Wait, never mind- I love everyone more than myself. I love Jessob more than-
Huh. I'll have to think on this one.
"Not sure that you'll want to travel with them, but we'll fly you over anyway," Janaff chuckles. My guard is up instantly- the way he said "them" is strange…
It takes about five minutes to fly ahead to the caravan, which is the equivalent of too much walking. If they had actually made me walk here, I would probably have given up halfway.
It's a small caravan. There's three men and two women, a mix-and-match bunch. Only the Goddess know if they're a proper family, but I would guess not. I'm still wary of them as we land beside one of the wagons, something about the way Janaff talked about them is making me feel paranoid about meeting them, let alone travelling with them.
"Ah, Tibarn," one woman greets the hawk king, "It's a pleasure seeing you here. I wonder if you've seen Ike…?"
Whoah, hold on- Ike? This lady must be nuts! If she's talking about who I think she's talking about, then she's living in a wacky made-up world. Nobody's seen Ike for a couple of years now. Apparently, he and his tactician ran off across the Desert of Death and were most definitely not planning on coming back. Ever. For any reason.
"No, Aimee, I haven't. He's gone for good this time. I've spoken to his sister- she got a note the night he left saying he was leaving Tellius to see what else was out there. He didn't feel that he was needed here anymore."
Right. Well. I had the same information at my disposal, and he has it from what I take it is an infallible source. Good.
Also, this lady's name is Aimee, and she's definitely a nutcase. Not so good.
"Well, hello there dear," she says as she looks at me. I shy away, because I most definitely do not want an insane person to decide that they don't like me. That would fit well in the "not so good" category along with "Aimee is a nutcase."
"Yeah. That's actually why we're here. Her name's Katja, and she's heading to Daein. She has a brother there, and she can't travel alone. I would take her, but we're behind schedule to meet someone, so if you're heading the same direction-"
Aimee cuts Tibarn off midsentence.
"Of course! I understand. Well then! Katja, is it dear?" she asks. I nod, and shuffle back a step, almost standing on top of Janaff's foot.
"Well, Katja, I am sure no one will mind if you travel with us! Come, I'll introduce you everyone before we get on with supper."
She turns and walks away, not bothering to check if I'm following her.
I sigh and look at Janaff.
"Well, thanks for flying me this far." I mean it this time when I thank them. I've found that I've actually taken a liking to the group, especially Janaff. If he wasn't a mark, I might have been his friend instead of… well, not.
"No problem," he answers me. Goddess, for someone who's over a hundred, he sure trusts easily! It almost makes me feel bad.
Almost.
"Don't be in too much of a hurry to say your goodbyes." I whip around to see Aimee standing only a few yards away. She must have stopped walking to wait for me. She's lucky I wasn't on edge when she did that! Crazy lady…
"You'll stay the night, won't you, hawk king? Your people don't see well in the dark, and they must be tired from their flight."
I look at Tibarn expectantly, waiting for his decision. Surely he can see as well as I do, if not better, that they all are exhausted. Especially Reyson, although he tries to stand up straight and look like he's fine. I have to give it to him, he's tougher than I would have expected for a heron. Living with the hawk tribe for however long must have hardened him. He's still not as hardy as the rest of the group- not sure whether I should count myself or not, he's still a laguz, after all- and he definitely needs to rest. Something tells me, though, that if Tibarn decides to fly on, he won't complain.
If for no other reason than pride, I expect Tibarn to refuse Aimee's offer.
"Sure, we'll stay for tonight. Besides, is we could pick up some olivi grass from your bargain section, it'll be well worth it."
As I recover from the shock of his unexpected answer, Aimee gives him a smile and motions for us to follow her. I had Tibarn pegged as one of those guys who needs to maintain a tough reputation to hide behind.
Note to self: underestimate Tibarn? Don't even try it. if I had made a mistake like that in a battle with him, I'd be dead very, very quick.
Aimee leads us to a fire in the middle of the wagons. She introduces me to the others; Illyana is the one with purple hair, Jorge is blond and his twin Daniel has brown hair, and Muston is very… hairy. Except for the top of his head, which is bald. Definitely an odd group, this. Also, why am I fixating on their hair?
I'm offered food, which I accept. I haven't eaten a proper meal in three days, the healer- I think his name was Rhys- told me I should wait for a bit before eating. Since, you know, my stomach had a knife stuck in it and all that. As a result, I'm hungry. Very hungry. Eat three platefuls of food in an hour hungry.
Although, I get beat by that Illyana girl- she had six plates! Then dessert!
Settling down is harder though. I wasn't worried about poison- poison doesn't affect me the way it does some people. Well, most people. Well… everybody else.
The mat is comfortable, and I have a good amount of privacy, which I guess is the problem. The privacy, that is, not the mat. The fact is, the amount of privacy I do have is enough that if someone wanted to kill me, no one would see them. Not in the middle of the night anyway. But right now, anybody could come around and see me changing, which is another problem altogether. Honestly, I think I would prefer having my throat slit than these people figuring out what I am.
I pull of my shirt and look at my back in the mirror that hangs on the wall of the wagon. My wings are still there, of course, mocking me. They're black, like a raven's wings, but mine can't help me. Mine can't make me fly.
The wings are my Brand. My mother had one, my father had one, and now I have one. Mother's Brand was also large, but hers was easy, a tawny, spiralling pattern on her right side. She didn't have to worry, because if she was tan- and she was almost always tan, even in winter- you couldn't even see it. Mine… it's hard to hide. I can't wear tops that show my stomach when the weather is hot, and I've never been to a proper healer before, not until Tibarn & Co. rescued me at least. It's weird, because even though my grandmother was a raven, my grandfather was a Branded. Beast laguz of some kind, probably a cat. That's my mother's side of the family, my father… wolf laguz and beorc mix. He was also Branded, and his Brand was on his wrist. Like a bracelet, mother always told me.
I never really met my father. Everything I know, I know from my mother. She told me about his habits, how they met, that he was a "good man." She told me that he worked hard to take care of us. And because she I was young, and I was clueless, and because she was my mother, I believed her.
Turns out it was all bullshit. Lies, just like the ones I've gotten so used to telling. My father left us. He was never around, never came to see me even once, and sure as hell wasn't working hard to support us. The only thing that I know for sure isn't a lie is his hair colour. It's brown. Mother had a lock of his hair braided in with her own, and she never took the braid out. Her hair was blonde, though she died it black for some reason that I never understood. Not that it matters, 'cause she's dead. And if my father was even a fraction of the man that she thought he was, he would have saved her.
As I drop off to sleep, this thought is the one I keep in my mind.
If he was any kind of a man at all, he would have saved her…
Author's Note: I will be using the term "mark" a lot. Actually, Katja will, but you get the idea. Anyway, a mark is a person who is being conned. it's from the old circuses and midways, where anyone who could be taken advantage by a carnie would be slapped on the back, leaving a dusty hand print or a stain on their coat, thereby signalling to other carnies that they were good targets for cons. And sorry if I was leading you on with her wings! Some of you already know that I am going to do another story at some point about the bird tribe laguz, but this is not that story. Although one of my favorite bird laguz will be making an appearance in this story, and no, he has not appeared yet! Do with this information what you will.