Return to the Featherlands

A Featherland Welcome

Morning came nearly as quickly as it took Silvia's strained mind to succumb to sleep. When she awoke, Silvia sat up and blinked as a rose-tinted light crept in from the window across the bedroom. She swung her legs over the side and rubbed her eyes. Silvia changed back into the clothes she came through with, brushed tangles out of her hair with her fingers, and met Paul in the common area of the cabin. A modest breakfast of homemade bread, aged cheeses, and vegetable soup laid out on a small table. Paul was cleaning up his father's area when she walked in.

"Good morning," Silvia said. The previous day's events rushed through her head in a blur. She rubbed another ache out of her eye.

"Morning," Paul said without slowing in his tasks. He gestured to the table by the window. "I made breakfast. It's not great, but you'll need to eat something before leaving." Silvia nodded, only then noticing the churning of her stomach. Through the excitement, she realized that she had not eaten since barely picking at the subpar lunch her school provided the day before.

"Thank you," Silvia said. She took her seat at the table and started on the breakfast. The soup was still warm, the cheese sharp with a delightful crunch, and the bread fluffy and mild. Even without being hungry enough to down it all in one sitting, it tasted better than most meals Silvia could recall in the moment. "This is amazing. You made this?"

"Bought the cheese from a farmer toward the countryside," said Paul. "The bread and the soup though, yeah."

"It's really good," said Silvia, trying not to shovel it all in too quickly. "Thank you." Paul smiled and instinctively turned away to hide it.

"Mom taught me," said Paul. "I mean, she taught us, but dad can't really..." He stopped. Silvia looked to the Elder. He was still sleeping peacefully, though there was slight evidence that he had either shifted or woken at some point since the night before. Paul sighed.

"Well, thank you," Silvia repeated. Paul gave no reply. He was still wearing the torn undershirt and thick black pants from the night before. A slight stubble shrouded his hardened jaw in a gray shadow. His hand was still wrapped in the cloth. He cleaned up a few of the loose papers around his father's section of the cabin. He scanned over each and sorted them into stacks before putting each stack in its own designated place.

"I know I can't stop you from going back," Paul said, his expression distantly haunted, "but don't go right away." Silvia listened as she finished the last of the meal. "Just South of here is Sprite's Hollow, a small camp that the fairy queen runs as a refugee haven." The word 'refugee' gave Silvia pause, but more so did Paul's casual tone when talking about it. "It's just through the Fayewoods. Find it and talk to Queen Diedra. She'll try to stop you, but if you still insist, she can probably help more than I can."

"I don't know about that," Silvia said, half under her breath. She looked down at her empty plate and bowl. "I... I didn't realize it had gotten that bad." Paul huffed tiredly.

"Well, be prepared for it to get worse." Paul picked up Silvia's backpack that she had left by the couch the night before. It had completely escaped her mind.

"Oh, that's... really nothing important," Silvia said. Paul ignored her. He brought it up to the front door and set up leaning upright against the frame.

"You have food for the road," Paul said, "a plant and beast catalog, and the dagger you took from the Assassin. It's in the front pocket." After everything that happened after stepping back into the Featherlands, Silvia had nearly forgotten about the Featherland Assassin. Silvia nodded, disappointed in her own unreliable, unfocused mind.

"Thank you, Paul," she said. She stood. Silvia looked around, taking in a lasting glance at the cabin. She looked to Paul, his eyes downcast. A miserable quiet came over the two. "Then, I... suppose I should be leaving." Paul looked away.