Tearha: The Number 139

Chapter Six: Forger

Solar powered flying cars hovered overhead in park. One down the street descended with the press of its driver's remote, a blinking red spotlight shining down from its underside as it did so. The crowd on the pathway parted from the landing zone, allowing the car to touch ground. Hall-walled skyscrapers lined the neighbourhood and zooming cars painted up the further skies.

Coat fluttering, dark brown hair still a waking morning mess, he jogged through the sea of people and pushed out of the crowd to an empty alley. "Tier! Sorry! Sorry!" he called as he neared the man leaning against the alley wall. "Guys took me drinking yesterday and I overslept."

"Oho..." Tier stepped away and towards him. Tier wore a green singlet and muddied cargo pants, his face edged and rugged, his hair dirty and jumbled. "So it's fine for you to be drunk and late but when I do it, it's 'irresponsible'." He air-quoted.

"I said I was sorry." He pretended to scratch his neck to prevent Tier from seeing his face. "Besides, I only do this once a year or something. You do it every other week."

Tier clicked his tongue and exclaimed, "Bah, whatever. Here!" He tossed a small brown bag.

"Is this drugs?" he replied uncertainly, slowly opening the gift. "I'm not trafficking for you."

"Don't be a fucking smartass, kid. It's just your birthday present."

From within, he pulled out a pocket watch. Engraved on the sleek titanium case were the symbols of the language he made up for his tabletop role-playing game nights. "It's my name." He looked up to Tier, as he had done his whole life. "You learned my language."

Tier ruffled his hair. "I love you too, nerd. Now be a good little brother and bugger off. I've got work to do."

***

Eyes fluttering open, The Watcher ran his vision across the orange dawned sky that filtered through the branches. Gentle snowfall had happened through the night and his teeth were clattering from the cold. A layer of snow covered his face and he shivered and shook it off. He found his hand within his coat, holding onto his pocket watch. His thumb ran over the engraving, reading it like Braille. Sitting up, he swung his legs over the log he slept on. The campfire before him was but embers, and Nadier was nowhere to be seen. He breathed a breath of white mist, body shaking from being frozen.

From his side, he picked up the last of the prepared firewood and threw it unceremoniously into the flame. He stretched his hand towards the ember and focused, preparing to wrap the campfire in a time bubble, but without the shell that prevented friction. The wood spontaneously combusted, flame-tails spiralled up three meters into the air, twirling and dancing with the sun – no, twinrise – before dying back down to a steady fire.

"Too much oomph there," The Watcher criticized himself.

"Neat trick." He turned to see Nadier coming in from the forest, three grey furred rabbits with horns dangled from his belt. "Breakfast?" He pointed to the animals. The elf had obviously gone hunting.

"Sure. Never had those before though." The Watcher asked, "I'm guessing jackalopes?"

"Yeah. How did you know?" He untied the prizes of his hunt and settled down in the snow opposite. "I thought you didn't know anything about this world?"

"Guess some things just translates."

"I've been meaning to ask you about that." Nadier pulled out his dagger, rolled up his sleeves, and casually began skinning the animal. "How are you able to speak modern tongue so well?"

"Probably like the jackalope. Just translates from world to world, I guess." He got to his feet and stretched. He looked to his palm and realized he had subconsciously took out his watch. He returned the accessory to his coat. "Where I come from, it's called English."