You glanced at the she-demon, your freezing hand slipping atop hers seeking warmth, and perhaps more. “Miranna” —you were cautious not to give the soldier’s son any undue ideas— “there is something I need to see to first. You go ahead as we agreed, to the enclave; see if you can catch Whiskers there or along the way.”

Embers flared in her eyes as she tilted her head back, fixing the armoured soldier with her gaze. He clenched his weaponless fists and drew a deep breath under her intimidating stare, as if bracing for battle. Miranna wheezed.

“That pest troubles me not: I’m sure you can best him; but are you -sure- you should waste time on this, whatever ‘this’ is?”

With your palm now warm, you brushed her talons and then dropped your hand. “Yes. Please return once you find him, thought, else it’s going to be a long journey for me … if I even knew where to go, which I don’t."

Her teeth clicked as she flashed a grin, her immense ebony wings unfurling like a dark stain against the landscape’s canvas. With a beat, she ascended, stirring another swirl of dust that blew away the green blades of grass that survived the first.

“Will I find you here once I return?”

“There should be a village nearby,” you said, to displeased harrumph of the soldier. “I’ll be there somewhere, but you’ll spot me regardless, won’t you?”

With another stroke, her wings lifted her even higher, her voice falling down like a drumming thunderclap. “I’m not going to lose sight of the he— you, that’s for certain. I shall be swift upon my wings, so you best be too!” Her silhouette dwindled into a speck, together with her laughter.

“So your name is Niklos?” the soldier remarked once Miranna had vanished. “You seemed awfully familiar for a prisoner; even for one forced to serve her?”

“It’s complicated,” you said and paused. “And what is yours?”

“Yuriy, family name’s Tallow.” He reached for the crossbow. “May I have it now?”

You offered it to him, softening your grip, making it it easy for Yuriy to take it. Thought no stairwells grazed those plains, should he attempted to load the weapon, you knew you could grapple and overpower him before that. You pressed your toe into the earth to lift a broken sword he was eyeing, and then, after turning it once in your hand, you tossed it into the bog with the rest of the abandoned weapons.

Yuriy strapped the crossbow to his belt, the leather creaking in response as he scoffed at your throw. “The demon said you could handle me, but I don’t see it.” He gestured with his shoulder for you to follow. “ … Are you not cold like that?”

“I’ll manage.”