THE RED HUNTER

Chapter 19. Tírna Mago

No one is ever alone as the smoke of darkness in one's mind fumes to consume one's self.

Tírna Mago was a small town just on the other side of the Daeson River, where the four huntees often spent their days on leave. Only this time, it was most likely the last they would visit it together. They knew the town like the palm of their hands, its wide streets, its stray cats, its people.

It was a magical village, especially when its people, the nicest Oryan had ever met, gathered around the statue of Thymio, god of crops and plants, when each season of crops began - sowing, watering, and harvest. The pubs and taverns were constantly packed with adults and even elderly dancing to the lute and tambourine. Garden pots had flowers all year round, bringing a soft sweet fragrance to the streets.

The four huntees - nay, Hunters - agreed that one last visit to Tírna Mago was due before leaving for their new life.

Roseia, the owner of The Garden Pub, the only inn and one of the only two taverns in Tírna Mago, greeted the group, when they arrived in the afternoon, after nearly four months of not seeing them.

"My favourite Hunters!" She opened her strong arms wide once the doorbell announced their arrival by the afternoon.

The woman, in her mid-forties, wore her brown hair in a somewhat messy updo pinned around the head with white flowers, certainly picked up from the long flower pots outside the inn.

"Roseia! My favourite host!" Jera greeted.

"How've you been?" She asked, freeing Jera from her tight hug.

"Oh, you know, training, missions, killing, deaths... And finally becoming Hunters. The usual life at Vandraad," he answered with a grin.

"Oh, my goodness! You made it! I'm so, so proud of you!" Roseia almost screamed.

"Hi, Roseia," Oryan greeted with a smile.

Roseia kissed the top of everyone's head and Oryan could swear the woman was fighting off a tear.

"My little kids... You look all so strong!"

"All the better to keep the skadvig out of your inn," Jera winked and returned a wide smile that Roseia returned.

Bringing her hands together as if praying, Roseia announced, "Your rooms are free, sweeties. Go ahead."

After leaving their bags in the respective rooms, the group met again at the hall, only lit by oil lamps and the sun from the one window at the end of the corridor.

"So, Jera...," Oryan smirked at him while going down the stairs. "Are you paying a last visit to the lovely Gweänel?"

All snorted and Jera rolled his eyes but couldn't contain a smile despite the clear efforts. Gweänel was a beautiful girl around their age whose hazel eyes always brightened at the sight of him.

"As a matter of fact, I am," he lifted his chin and scratched his neck in an attempt to look casual and uninterested.

"Well, you better do a good job," Yunfrid leaned to Jera and laughed.

"Well, I'm off as well. Meet you back for dinner?" Ev asked in a suspiciously casual tone.

The other three changed glances and burst out laughing.

"Well, well, well, mister Undrvurd, are you seeing someone?" Jera asked provokingly.

"What if I am?" Evandyr suddenly seemed ten inches taller as he filled his chest and straightened his back threateningly.