68

68
THE ORHERT.
CLEON:
Dressed as a merchant, my guide and I scouted the market not only for goods but for stray pieces of information. My guide, had refused to tell me his name or have any meaningful discussion with me. He just took me to various merchants and stood behind listening to every word I said as though his life depended on it. Even the merchants I discussed with were to scared to talk to me.
I focused on trying to gain their trust, so they would believe I was really a merchant who was just curious about Fawnhide.
At the textile market, I met a man who was the same age as me, and I tried to question him to no avail, however his demeanor gave me some hope that he was somebody I could actually talk to.
“Hey, has this place always been like this? I whispered to him, while we compared the colors of textile.
“like what?” he whispered back, I could tell he was afraid because of the presence of my guide.
“This deserted, and strict.” I said, raising a piece of clothing and handing it to him.
The young textile merchant shook his head and began to package the piece of clothing I had picked up, I saw him stealthily slip a piece of paper into the package and I was filed with instant hope, maybe I was getting somewhere after all.
“Ten gold coins, please.” He said, now avoiding eye contact with both me and my guide who still towered over us in supervision.
“Time up!” My guide said and pulled me up from the floor, I was allowed only a maximum of fifteen minutes with each merchant I met — they tried to make sure I did not bond in any way with any of the citizens.
“Where next?” I asked my guide, who was mute most of the time.
“You’re going home.” He asserted.
Another wasted day, this was the fifth day of my arrival in Fawnhide and I had still not figured out a thing, not even a whiff of a rumor. Jason and Joshua would think I was in some kind of trouble, or that I was dead.

JASON:
As the fifth day dawned without any sign of Cleon, anxiety gnawed at my insides. Jọshụa and I exchanged worried glances, the weight of uncertainty pressing upon us. Cleon was resourceful, but this prolonged absence was unsettling, we did not have enough time to spare. Fear tightened its grip around my heart as the thought of him being captured or worse filled my mind.

“Jọshụa,” I said, my voice laced with concern, “we can’t wait any longer. We need to take action. If Cleon is in danger, we have to save him.”
We needed to save him, and going to Fawnhide only meant war. We would have acknowledged that we sent a spy to their town. The whole thing was taking an unexpected turn, I never intended it to be prolonged or even to result in war — we had just been in one war, it was unwise to run into another, but Fawnhide was desperately asking for it.

JOSHUA:
Jason’s words struck a chord within me, resonating with the same fear and determination that coursed through my veins. Cleon had become more than just a companion on this journey; he was family. The thought of him suffering in the clutches of the Fawnhide pack, Alpha Axle was popular for his inclination to torture and high levels of gruesome mutilation, the thought of all that ignited a fire within me, pushing me to the edge. It was time to leave our cocoons and act, to show Fawnhide why we were recognized as the most powerful pack. We were not going to stay in hiding while our brother was in the clutches of death.
“You’re right, Jason,” I replied, my voice filled with a mixture of resolve and anger. “We can’t stand idly by while Cleon faces danger. If we have to wage war on the Fawnhide pack to rescue him, then so be it. We won’t let them take him away from us.”

CLEON:
My guide Was tasked with making sure I got home and did not divert elsewhere. Back to Mirabel’s house she had already set a table of food for me. As I ate, I thought of what to do, I doubted I would have been allowed to stay more than a week in Fawnhide. The security around me was just to tight, to really do something I was going to have to risk my life more than I already had.
After my meal, I went into my room and opened up the piece of paper that the young textile merchant had slipped into my package, written on it, with hasty capital letters was:
“WE CAN’T TALK HERE, IF YOU DON’T WANT TO DIE.” This note meant that he was willing to speak to me, but he was scared of the consequences it would attract. I made a note to find him again the next day and set up a day for a meeting.
I decided, I was going to wait till nightfall when Mirabel was asleep, then I would slip out of the house and look for signs of the Orhert’s residence.
The darkness of the night enveloped me as I stood at the threshold of a risky decision. The lack of information and the growing despair had pushed me to the edge. Determined not to succumb to hopelessness, I made up my mind to search for the Orhert, to uncover the truth that eluded me.

Just as I prepared to embark on this perilous mission, Mirabel, the seer who had provided me with shelter, emerged from the shadows. Her eyes held a steadfast resolve, as if she understood the depths of my desperation.
“Cleon,” she said, her voice carrying a mixture of conviction and compassion. “I have been observing your quest, and I cannot let you face this danger alone. I will aid you in your mission to find the Orhert.”
“how, how do you know who I am? How do you know my mission?” I was overwhelmed by surprise. She looked at me and smiled a knowing smile.
“I am not a seer for nothing Cleon, I have known you were coming since before you even made up your mind.” She said.
“But why? Why would you help me against your own pack, is that not treason?
“The only one whom I fear to offend is the goddess.”
“You mean the goddess ordered you to do this? To help me?” I asked, astonished at the turnout of everything.