Yaro coiled to sleep. She ignored the putridity around her, the odor of rotting trash and the feeling of slime and sharp objects under her. Her cloak and mask were stored away safely in her holder while she covered herself with a thrown away blanket. No one would look for her in a back alley, not even the homeless roamed here.

She did hate the smell, this was true. She had lost her acclimation to the stench from a year or two of cleanliness. The amount of time she spent with her Atho had been lost to bliss. She much preferred freshly baked bread to moldy and half eaten. What a waste of food, cities were where the wealthy could indulge themselves and the poor could survive off their scraps 

The city: she hated and loved it. Hated because of all the people. Loved from nostalgia and practicality. All cities danced to the same music. Melodies of business, excess, bustling, stark wealth and poverty. Loneliness. Despite the amount of people, it was easiest to move about in a city, especially compared to more rural settlements. When she was younger, she’d thought to leave for some cursory town where the protectors were few and far between. But, in their place guarded tight bonds between people. She could not penetrate those bonds to get to the bread, nor could she assimilate.

Everyone else hated the smell of rot and refuse. She would be safe for the night. Safe as she could be. The best place to be was just outside the city, away from the populace but not into the wild. Just as far as the intermediary's domain reached. She’d also tried living in the wild, far from any settlement. That fantasy did not last long. She had to leave.

Tonight she would sleep just outside the poorest district. The city’s name was irrelevant. She would be gone by the morning. Her leg, at first thought to be repaired by then, protested further travel. Besides, most creatures weren’t nocturnal. The stars provided a perfect time to sleep. She stared into the blackness. She guessed what the shadows made, a box here and the wall over there. She couldn’t see them. She knew others would be able to see her if she weren’t completely covered.

So she pulled the blanket over her head. Her bright scales wouldn’t see the light of day or night for days to come. She hoped it would be mere days, maybe a season. She needed her sleep for the hunt. There was no room to allow for the full warmth of unconsciousness. She reverted to sleeping with one eye open. Even in her home with Natrai, she would sleep with one eye open.

It was after she lived with Natrai that she became nomadic. The first few years were the hardest. She fled from town to wilderness to city to city. No where welcomed her. No one remotely accepted her. She lived in filth, hardened further by the cruelty of the world. Natrai hadn’t accepted her fully either, but she had a kind of domestic life with her. Regular contracts, regular sleeping, if frequently disturbed by a drunkard of Natrai’s band. After that, she’s not sure how she survived.

Not even reaching an age of maturity, whenever that was, she was forced into vagrancy. She wasn’t afraid, that had been beaten out of her years before. The experience drove her more stone-like still. Days consisted of travel, foraging or hunting, and observation. The travel was the best part. Hot summers were a joy on her skin and scales; the summer cast the world in obscuring viridity. Food was plentiful, either from a farm, from the wild beasts being brazen for breeding, or on the off chance that a dumpster became filled with overstocked food. And, it was the time most people were active and the time where cover was most plentiful. When not traveling or procuring food, she would stow away in a brush and watch people go about their daily business. She watched their habits, learned about them. She found, even with the thousands of eccentricities of an individual, they were fairly predictable in a group. She could exploit predictability.

The winters were cold and miserable. She remembered the first winter, spent huddled in one city. She could not travel, not by land and not by sky. The snow weighed on her winds and her bare feet lost a toe to gang green. Finding food proved difficult too. Beasts were hidden in the snow or hibernating somewhere. The city’s food was stockpiled and kept inside homes, where she was prohibited entry. That winter was spent in painful hunger.

To add insult, she discovered why Natrai kept her away in a locked room. It wasn’t to keep her in, but to keep everyone else out. She discovered this by another discovering her. She scratched the scales on her shoulder. Their bright colors against the colorless skin was an eye sore at best. More so when the entire world is covered in a downed quilt of white. She saw it clearly in her mind, the hunger that drove her to peek through a lone building's glowing window. She couldn’t remember the smell that dragged her over, nor the sound of her feet against snow. What she did remember was being chased away. Death nipped close at her heels in the form of the denizens of the home. No bushes were around to hide in, the forests were bare. She’s not sure how she got away, or how she made it through that first winter.

From that winter, she learned that she could not just hide in the shadows. She had to hide in plane sight, to walk the streets for warmth and food. She was chased out, with her disguises improving each time. Simple was better, yet so many aspects could give her away. She continued wandering long after she stopped growing. That was, until she didn’t have to any more.

The ring slipped from smoke into her hands. She brought it to her eyes, though she could see nothing in the utter darkness of the rank blanket. She knew it was there. If that kak of a humi had done anything to it, he would be sure to burn. She thought the best way of doing so, of track him to his home, trailing him over several days, observing his habits. When he was asleep, all comfortable in his home, she would strike. She would tie his- nothing could happen to her ring.

She cursed lightly, gripping her wrist tightly. Her stupidity was immeasurable. What if something had happened to her ring? It was beyond her how she could have let him even touch her ring. She would be indebted to Yon for her actions. Anything could have happened to it outside her grasp. Even if he had done nothing intentional, he could have dropped it and dented it. Someone could have walked in on them and, under the confusion, stolen away with her ring. So much could have happened to her ring, her only way of finding her Atho.

No. Those thoughts were pointless. A life of what ifs served no purpose. She needed to act, to make sure her future included her Atho.

She ran her ring through her fingers. Though she could not see it, she knew its form better than her own. Though that was not too difficult. The ring reminded her of the Saykzuyg, the torus around the planet that provided illumination for both day and night. The one side, most like her ring and by extension her Atho, was whole and bright. The other side, how the ring could have ended up, what represented her, broken and dim.

Materialistic ideals were pointless as well. What would happen if the farseer did take her ring? She did not need it, it held no use to her. All one needed in life was food and shelter. Food was fleeting and shelter could be either found or made anywhere. And as for others, her Atho, they were an animate object, life. The ring was inanimate, despite what the farseer proclaimed about lingering souls. The ring could not feel, it could not hurt nor could be hurt. It was a piece of metal, simple and inert. Yet it held such sway over her, to the point of obsession. She resolved to return it to her Atho when she found them. To remove the unneeded feelings and weight of it.

She clutched it. She forced the tears closed in her eyes. They would not leave her as everyone else did. Not her tears, not like Natrai had. She would sleep.

She would sleep unsound and be woken late into the darkness. Though she’d slept fickle, somehow both eyes were closed. The pulling at her non-stunted horn dragged her back to cognizance. With a swift move, she grabbed the throat. She wasn’t fully aware of herself until after she felt a warm trickle on her fingers. She couldn’t see who she grabbed, but felt three presences, all stunned then angry.

After crushing any vocalizations the person could make. She threw her assailant to the ground with a loud thud. The creature was heavy and dense, likely a solumkerd. The other two definitely could see her, she could hear it in the way they shuffled to surround her. That and their shouts of aggression, promising to gut her.

She ran towards the one more afraid. She summoned the flames to her hand, to further intimidate them and to see what she was doing. If they did not move out of her way, she would overpower them. She kept the flames dim, yet the exposed skin still felt the sudden intense heat.

The humi, face shouting in absolute horror, dove into a heap of rubbish. She tore past them, their anguish sickening from being so close. She assumed anyone awake from a block away could have felt it. She needed to leave. She ignored the crunching sound of something she tripped on. She ignored the pain in her leg. She could not ignore the many tiny hands grabbing at her tail, back, and wings.

Her flames illuminated the alley before her, she did not have time to turn around. She ran, slower and slower as more hands dragged at her, the more her leg yelled at her for ignoring it. It couldn’t have been beings themselves, the things grabbing her, but more likely to be some sort of trick the third assailant conjured. She was held. It wasn’t the right leg. They were reading her thoughts.

“Murderer! Monster!” came their voice, swallowing the dank hallway. The typical responses of those who witness her.

Yaro lashed at her back, feeling the stinging of her own flames against raw skin. Where they hit her scales did not hurt. The white pain only lasted an instance. Her back was mostly calloused from the years. What she noted was that the weight seemed to leave wherever she hit, but came back with more force and numbers. She didn’t have time to figure them out.

Breaking out to the street, she spread her wings wide with a clap. The hands lost their grip at the sudden gust, she heard them whiz through the air and land in splashes all around. She had already been found, no use in trying to hide.

She took to the air, but not to the sky. She would be found, quite easily, up there. She did not have the time or energy to climb into the thermals. Flight would require the use of her reserve in her flame sac. She’d hoped to save it in a pinch. A long rest would be required. Now, she had to go below, into the caves. She had to leave.

Entrances to the city below were everywhere, ease of access for the public. She dove for the nearest one not even a block down the street. The cushion of air on the stairs kept her aloft before she broke into the cave system proper. Cave dwellers saw no distinction between day and night, they slept on personal schedules.

Her booming entry brought all eyes to her, and those expressions soon gave to the expected: shouts, panic, chaos. Being run out of town was an art. One would expect chasing, torches raised and spears thrown. The first few minutes were left in anarchy, mobs took time to form.

Yaro, if she played her posts on point, would escape before either mob or protectors could catch her. If she didn't, detainment and beatings would ensue. No one had yet been brave, brazen, or broken enough to kill her. Yet.

Prisons could be escaped, snares cut, and people tricked. But all needed effort. And time. She had the patience for neither. And murder, well, she was just an animal. An animal hadn’t the cognizance to do anything but defend themselves. And she hadn’t murdered, this time.

She flew faster and faster, her wings strained and her flame sac rioted for freedom. Flying may have come easy to one born to fly, or one acclimated, or one trained. She was none, yet it was too useful a tool to not utilize. She flew over the ducked heads of solumkerd, humi, and drake who hadn’t run at the sight of her. The turmoil she left with each flap of her wing created ripples behind her. It wouldn’t be long before they grew wise and came after her.

Into the tunnels she fled, past homes, down carved streets, deep into the webbed mess that was the underground. She could see, barely, from the lights the underground purpose. Anyone here would be used to the darkness, or only need enough light to not stub their toe.

She noted the pain in her leg and the weight of hands on her back had both vanished. She veered down the tunnel turning left. They must have been tricks of the mind, by the third figure. Take the tunnel ramping up. She knew she had fixed her leg, it was only swollen now, no fractures could have remained. Take the tunnel descending down. She would have to spend some time, during her walk to the next city, restrengthening her mental gate.

Just like the city topside, the caves followed the logic of reclaimed ruination. All of Sornata held them; all of the great city waited ages for prey. If she kept going in one general direction, she would soon exit civilization. She only needed to get past the echoes of shouts and the flaring of fear. Further into the web of ancients. Further into the caves. Further from hate.

The screams of those who witnessed her form, in time, died with the light. But, she could not stop. She needed to go further, past the boundaries of intermediaries. They could track her, they would take time away from her.

To her constant ire, she wasn't able to see in darkness. Without the light of others, she had to create her own. Her flames still were in her hand, but too dim to be of use. She had to brighten them, to risk burning them again. She had to create her own light. She wrapped small flames around her hands, just enough to see what was ahead of her, but not enough to see the turns too far ahead.

Even with the added light, the turns, splits, curves, and offshoots caught her off guard. She would try and take as many turns as possible, weaving her way further down, up, and any way that would confuse her potential pursuers. The clean pristine walls became more unkempt. Vegetation became the new law; moss, vines, and other subterranean plants lined the walls. The air stung her eyes, spores from mushrooms and floating plants pelted her. 

Teal plants danced to her flames and completely overwrote the exposed stone walls. Yaro hurtled through plants, burning the ones that tried to bite at her. She hoped they did not catch alight, as that would be an easy way to track her. She was unlikely to start a cave fire, considering how moist the air hung. Still, she couldn’t let them consume her, not that they were the norm down here. Most plants left her alone, though she could not tell the difference between grove hunters and tenders. Carnivorous plants were the least of her worry.

With the shouts gone, she hazarded glances back every now and then. Every clear view of the network behind slowed her flight, she would need to stop eventually. She needed to spend her sensory perceiving aura’s around her. Too much concentration for her, and a bit pointless. The city’s around this part of the world were too close together. If there were a dangerous creature, they would know to be afraid of something coming from civilization. If they were intelligent enough. The unintelligent ones, most were afraid of fire. Fire’s bright. Fire burns.

With the realization that she was breathing, she paced her breaths. Too much air in her lungs meant too much flame sifted. Too much flame sifted could spell disaster for her internals. She slowed further, to a casual flap of the wings every few seconds. It remained mostly to her flame sac to keep her aloft, to be spent doing so. Her wings would keep her moving through the plant-lined intestine of a cave.

The sounds that permeated the cave whistled and muffled. Creatures scuttled, she could feel obvious auras in the earth all around. It was slightly overwhelming. It had been too long since she’d gone underground. Her hands ached from cramps, her wings strained with each lurch, her flame sac created too much pressure. She wanted to stop, to take a break to recuperate. She could stop, she thought, she must have been far enough away now. Not yet. She had to move, to continue away. She could not, would not, be captured this time. She had

to be far from people. She had to leave.