Green Comet

Continuing the serial release of The Plainsrunner under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike license – (CC-BY-SA).

Sage gets shoes and sets off to sell her glider.

Please let me know in the comments whether you’re enjoying this. And subscribe so you don’t miss anything.

rjb

Chapter Seventeen – New Shoes

Exhausted though she was, Sage had trouble falling asleep. She used the flashlight to arrange some blankets on the floor – there was no straw – then switched it off immediately. Fisher had told her not to leave it on, because that would waste the batteries. She guessed that the batteries must be what made the light, in place of fire. She pushed the button a few times, marveling at how that could give her light so easily, then used it only enough to get settled. After that she spent what felt like hours lying in the dark, not falling asleep.

The darkness was complete, with not even the faintest line to show where the door was. She had to consciously blink her eyes to tell if they were open or closed. Especially the side eyes. It was in this strangeness, in a black room in a stranger’s house in the still-mysterious city, that Sage spent her wakefulness thinking about her predicament. Tomorrow Digger, a man she hardly knew, was going to take her out in this strange place and try to “find her something.” Also, they were going to get her some shoes. She had Skylight’s assurance that it was an easy and painless procedure, and also for the best. She said it would keep her feet from getting sore. Flexing them and feeling the residual ache, Sage decided that would be a good thing.

One thing in particular occupied her mind. Her glider had attracted so much attention that her curiosity was inflamed. What made it so interesting? What made it valuable? Even valuable enough to kill her for. And another thing above all. She’d had no idea of its existence until it fell out of the sky, but everyone here seemed to know all about it.

She was mulling all these things in endless circularity when she finally dropped off. She felt as if she hadn’t slept at all when she was awakened by knocking on the door.

“Just a minute,” she said, getting up and feeling her way to the door. She started to open it, then went back and groped around for a blanket. She threw it on and, suitably covered for city eyes, opened the door. Squinting in the bright morning light, she was able to make out Digger standing there.

He said, “You shouldn’t open your door until you know who’s there. If I wanted to rob you, it would be all over now.”

She cleared her throat and spat in the street, then she said, “But you don’t want to rob me, do you?”

“No, of course not.” He glanced at her spit, then told her, “It’s okay to spit here, but barely. Some people might not like it, but enough people do it to make it okay.” He waved an arm toward the center of the city. “Some of the streets we’ll be on today are a little more upscale, and it won’t be okay there.”

She looked at him for a few seconds, then said, “Wear your blanket. Don’t spit. Is there anything else I should know before showing my face in your precious city?”

“Whoa,” he said. “Are you always this grumpy in the morning? And yes, there are plenty more things you need to learn.”

“Grumpy?” she said, anger flaring. She cut it off. She knew she owed him gratitude, not anger, for what he’d done. “Sorry,” she said. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Don’t worry about it. After what you’ve been through, you’re entitled to a little leeway.” He looked at her sternly. “But just a little. Some of the places we’re going today, they’re not going to give you any. All they care about is what’s in it for them.”

She nodded. She’d grown accustomed to a world that gives you no leeway. She’d survived that, and she could surely survive a few city people. She headed for Skylight’s kitchen. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll get cleaned up and we can head out.”

“Sage,” he said. When she looked, he tipped his head at the open door.

“Oh, my ancestors,” she said, and went to get the key.

They were back on the same street they met on yesterday. The difference this morning was that Sage wasn’t carrying her panniers, or her spear. She was going to take her spear, but Digger told her people don’t do that in the city. She shrugged and left it, and now here she was all fresh and fed and feeling better, and they were headed in toward the center of town where the taller buildings were. But before they even reached the next cross street, or before they’d gone one block, as Digger put it, they stopped in at the farrier’s recommended by Skylight.

Feeling extremely awkward, especially when he was working on her hind feet, his breath on her haunches, Sage listened while he talked her through it.

“We caught it in time,” he was saying. “There’s no serious damage. No cracking or splitting.” He patted her haunch, causing her to stiffen. “We’ll have you fixed up and out of here in no time.” He rubbed his hands together. “So,” he said, “iron or rubber?”
She looked at Digger, and he said, “Rubber, Hammer.” Then to Sage, “Iron lasts longer, but it’s for heavy duty use, and I don’t think you’re going to be doing that kind of work. Rubber wears out quicker, but it gives you better traction. Also, it’s better for indoors. Some people don’t like iron shoes in their houses, marking up their floors.”

Hammer started with her front feet – “So you can see what I’m doing.” – and she stood there, clutching the sack containing her glider while he pounded nails into her feet. After the first flinch, she was all right. It didn’t hurt. It actually felt kind of nice. The way he gently but firmly cradled her feet as he worked on them made her feel … Well, she admitted to herself, the attention … She had never had someone pay this kind of attention to her feet before. When it was over and he was done filing and buffing her hooves, she found that she was disappointed.

As they were leaving and she was thanking Hammer, she surprised herself with how shyly she spoke to him. Then he winked at her and said, “It was a pleasure, dearie. Come back any time.”

She stumbled out onto the street, feeling the strange new detachment in her feet. She picked them up and down, turning in a circle while she stared at her shiny new hooves. She stomped experimentally, enjoying the sense of protection her new shoes gave her. Even the sound was different, the clattering a lot more muted.

Digger smiled indulgently and waited.

“He didn’t even ask me what I had to trade,” said Sage as they walked. She continually looked down at her feet as they lifted and fell.

“Don’t worry. Hammer and I have an arrangement.”

“Another one of the people you helped before?”

He nodded. “That’s right. Otherwise we’d have had to pay him.”

“What would he have taken in trade?” Sage couldn’t think of anything she had that would be appropriate.

“We’d have given him money,” said Digger. “There’s not much barter any more.”

“Money?”

“Yes,” he said, pulling some coins out of a pocket in his grey blanket. “When we buy and sell things, we use these. They’re kind of like tokens, with different values.”

“So, you’d have given him those in return for putting these shoes on me? That doesn’t seem very even.”

“It wouldn’t be, if it was a straight trade. But he can take the money then and buy other stuff.”

They walked quietly while she thought, then she said, “Ah! The money. Those tokens. They’re always worth the same. And everyone agrees on what they’re worth.”

“That’s right.” He was impressed by how quickly she got it.

“And a lot easier to carry around, too,” she said. “Where can I get some of this money?”

He laughed. “There’s work,” he said. “You work for someone and they pay you. Or you could do like Rat and Snake and steal people’s stuff to sell for money. Or you could sell something valuable of your own, which is what we’re going to try to do today.”
“Something valuable of mine?” She looked down at the sack holding her glider and stopped dead.

He stopped beside her and said, “You need money to get started, and that’s a valuable item. I think we can get you a good price for it.”

“But it’s …” she started. “It’s my glider.” She looked at him, her eyes pleading.

He was firm. “It’s the only thing you’ve got that’s worth anything.” He paused. “Well, maybe except for that necklace.” He ignored the shocked look on her face. “And you might get something for that spear.” Her eyes got even wider. “But the point is you have to sell something, and I might have a buyer for it.” When she didn’t answer, he said, “What else are you going to do with it? Carry it around everywhere?”

She stood for a long time, then her face set hard. “Right,” she said, hefting the sack, “let’s go sell my glider.”

Continuing the serial release of The Plainsrunner under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike license – (CC-BY-SA).

Sage gets a meal and a bed.

Please let me know in the comments whether you’re enjoying this. And subscribe so you don’t miss anything.

rjb

Chapter Sixteen – Dinner

Dinner was good. In spite of her misgivings, Skylight was a good host, as was her husband, Fisher. Their son Star was also good. He was polite and hardly stared at Sage at all. For a boy his age, that is. He was about half her age – just about to leave true childhood and enter that transition phase before adulthood – and she remembered how she and her friends were then. When a stranger came to the village, they stared unabashedly, but Star was making an obvious effort to not do so.

Sage was impressed and thought she would make an effort, too. “This is nice,” she said. “Thank you.”

Skylight just nodded, chewing, but Fisher said, “You’re welcome. We’re glad to help.” Star watched, alert.

“This is more than simple help,” said Sage. “Taking a stranger into your nice home.”

Fisher said, “Whenever Digger needs us, we’ll be here.”

Sage wondered if he was aware of what his wife had been saying earlier, but she didn’t ask. She did say, “Digger seems like an interesting man. How did you meet him?”

In the silence, Fisher and Star were looking at Skylight, and she was frowning at her food. Sage felt the discomfort acutely, and tried to ease it. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s none of my business.”

Skylight nodded, but Fisher said, “It’s all right, Sage.” Then to his wife he said, “It’s okay, Sky. It’s your story and it’s all part of what makes me love you.”

Skylight looked at him and her expression softened, but she still said, “It’s not my story any more. That’s the past, and it can stay there.”

“Aw, Mom,” said Star. “I never get to hear.”

“Come on, Sky,” said Fisher. “The boy deserves to hear, and so does Sage. Your stories are so much alike.”

“But it’s not fair to you, Fish.”

“Never mind that,” he said. “It’s the story that brought you to me, so it’s a good story.”

Sage saw Star looking at his father. She saw the pride. When their eyes met across the table, she smiled at him. He got flustered, but he was smiling too.

Skylight was quiet, looking at her food again. Finally she nodded. “Okay,” she said, and started her story.

Skylight’s story was like Sage’s, in that they’d both left their villages and come to the city. Unlike Sage though, Skylight hadn’t been banished. She had left voluntarily. She was young and in love, and she ran away with her lover, Starlight. They were going to the city, looking for freedom and excitement. Like Sage, they followed a river, which joined hers just above the waterfall.

“But then he went and got himself killed,” said Skylight, fighting tears with anger. “He was protecting me from a day runner, and it killed him, and …”

Fisher picked it up for her. “They were almost here by then. Sky doesn’t have much memory of the last two days, but somehow she survived and made it. Digger found her and took care of her, then we met and that was the happiest day of my life. Then Star came along and our family was perfect.”

“So you’re not from the villages?”

“No. From down the coast. I wasn’t making a living fishing down there, so I came here.”

“You didn’t end up in the slum.”

“No. It wasn’t this bad then. I was able to find work, and I was doing all right.” His face clouded. “Some people tried to take advantage of me, but I got the advantage of them instead.” He smiled, but it wasn’t pleasant. “That’s when I changed my name to Fisher. Not long before we met.” He smiled at Skylight, much more pleasantly.

Sage looked at Star, who was looking at his parents with wide, shining eyes. She thought of his name, and of the name of Skylight’s lover: Starlight. She didn’t know it was showing in her face, and she was flustered when Fisher spoke.

“I see you’re wondering about the timing,” he said. He waved her down when she protested. “We’re not certain who is Star’s father. It could be me, or it could be Starlight. We’ve never done anything to find out. It’s not important to me. I couldn’t love him any more than I do.” He nodded at the love in the eyes of his family. “I insisted that we name Star after Starlight, because without him I wouldn’t have the two people who mean more to me than, well, any of that.”

Everyone ate quietly for a while, then Sage said, “Fisher is right, Skylight. Our stories are a lot alike.”

“Other than the fact that you did it alone,” said Skylight.

“You were alone for a while, too.”

“Oh sure, a couple of days. How long did you say you went?”

“About a month,” Sage answered.

Skylight nodded. “And that necklace you were wearing. Day flier talons, weren’t they? You didn’t just find those, did you?”

“Well, no,” said Sage. “I had to kill a day flier.”

Star was looking at her, mouth open, eyes wide. Skylight said, “Had to kill a day flier, eh? Only the one?”

“Yes,” said Sage. She pointed at her ears, both with the scars of day flier attacks. “It kept coming after me, so I had to make it stop. Killing it was the only way I could think of.”

They were quiet, to let her go on, and she realized it was her turn to tell her story. So she told them how she killed the big flier, and how it broke her spear. How she didn’t want to have to keep repairing it, so she learned how to scare them off. How she took the talons and the beak, both to honor her dead adversary, and for some more primitive reason that she didn’t really understand yet. She explained why she felt she had to eat a bit of each day runner she had to kill. She told them about all the fish she ate, and about meeting the traders. She made them laugh when she said how she challenged the big one. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” she said.

Chuckling, Fisher said, “You were near the end of your string. You must have been by then. But Tiny’s too stupid to notice something like that.”

“Tiny?” said Sage. “You know him?”

“Yes,” said Fisher. “Well, I mostly know Street. He’s a good man, as long as you don’t cross him.”

“He seemed all right to me, once things settled down.”

“He is all right, as long as you’re on his good side. From the sounds of things, I’d guess you are.”

“He said he knew my father, and respected him.”

“That’s okay then, but not enough by itself. If he likes you, it’s because he respects you, not your father.” He watched that sink in, then said, “He’s the only one Tiny will listen to. It’s lucky for you he was out on Street’s crew, and not someone else’s.”

“Or lucky for him,” said Sage, before she caught herself.

He laughed. “Or him,” he agreed.

After a brief silence, Skylight said, “There’s another difference in our stories, Sage. I went for love and adventure. Why did you leave your village?”

The silence became sharply deeper, and it was suddenly uncomfortable around the table. Star looked around with wide, uncertain eyes. Sage realized, to her surprise, that she felt shame. She felt tongue-tied by it. Even though she knew in her own mind that the elders had banished her not because she deserved it, but for superstition, she still felt shame. She pushed it down and stood up straighter. Clearly, she said, “I was banished.”

Star was shocked. His mother was from a village and he had heard her stories. Her village also banished people, and in the stories they always deserved it. He moved closer to her and she put a comforting hand on him.

Sage looked down, not meeting their eyes. She prepared to leave the table, only hoping that they would still let her use the little room to sleep in. She could leave tomorrow and find somewhere else, if anyone would have her. She was stopped by Fisher’s voice.

“Banished for what?” he asked.

Sage just wanted to leave, but she told them the story of the glider. She told them how it came down out of the sky, and how, when she told them, the elders banished her for it. She waited for them to kick her out of their home.

“That’s typical,” said Fisher. “Villages tend to be very superstitious places.”

“That’s right,” said Skylight, patting Star reassuringly. “Narrow, closed minds. Believe me, I know.”

Sage looked up to see them smiling at her. Even Star was smiling, with plenty of glances at his parents to be sure they still were.

Skylight said, “I saw that glider on your pack. You’re pretty brave to carry something like that in the open. There are plenty of people who would try to take it away from you.”

“Some of them did,” said Sage. “Digger showed up before I had to hurt them.”

They didn’t question her statement or assume that it was an empty boast. They didn’t doubt that she could have hurt them if she had to. “Lucky for them,” said Fisher.

“Digger said they would have killed me if they had to.”

“He’s right,” said Fisher. “They probably would have. Or tried anyway.” He grinned at her. “I wouldn’t have liked their chances.”

Sage grinned back and everything was okay again. They finished dinner, spiced with good conversation, until she had to plead exhaustion. Before she left Skylight told her about a good farrier who could put shoes on her, and Fisher gave her something called a flashlight. He also walked her to her room and stayed until she was safely inside, the door securely locked.

Continuing the serial release of The Plainsrunner under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike license – (CC-BY-SA).

Sage learns more about the city.

Please let me know in the comments whether you’re enjoying this. And subscribe so you don’t miss anything.

rjb

Chapter Fifteen – Digger

Sage almost smiled. “Some welcome,” she said.

The man said, “They were probably after that,” pointing at the glider lashed to her right pannier.

She skittered away, and he pulled his hands back, saying, “I won’t touch your stuff.”

She relaxed, with some effort, and apologized. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m still …”

“I know,” he said. “You’ve been through a lot.” Somehow he seemed to be talking about more than just the fight.

“Yes,” she said. She looked back down the street, her mind full of events that made this one look small. Then she turned back and lifted her spear, intending to sheath it. She saw him flinch, though he tried to hide it. As she put her knife away, she said, “Don’t worry. I have no reason to hurt you.” She looked up the street, thinking about where she would go now.

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve met some who haven’t been as … calm as you. Some of them are too far gone to help.”

She thought about that. “You meet people like me all the time?”

“Yes,” he said. “Well, no. Not ‘all the time.’ And not like you either.” He looked down the street toward the slum, then nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Usually I leave the orientation speech for later, after you’ve settled in, but I might as well do it now.” He gestured up the street. “Shall we walk while we talk?”

She hesitated, but only briefly. She’d decided to trust this man, even though she couldn’t say why. She set out, starting with a limp as her feet reminded her that they hurt.

He noticed. “Sore feet?” he asked. He nodded again. “We get a lot of that with people who come down off the plains. We’ll see about getting you some shoes as soon as possible.” He tapped the street with a front hoof. “It’s the hard surface. Your feet aren’t used to it.”

She was going to ask him how he knew she’d come from the plains, but instead she said, “Shoes?”

“Yes,” he said. “You put them on the bottom of your feet and they protect them from the hard streets. See?” He stopped and lifted a foot to show her.

She didn’t know what to say, so as they started walking again she just said, “Shoes.” Then she asked, “How do you know where I’m from?”

“Your blanket,” he said, indicating the crenelated pattern around the edge. “That’s your clan’s design, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said, looking at the blanket with new eyes, comparing it to his plain grey one.

“And also you can just tell. The people who come off the plains look different from the ones who come from up and down the coast. You can see it in their eyes, and in the way they carry themselves.”

It was a lot to think about. She caught herself slowing down, and picked up her pace again. “Do you get a lot of people like me?” she asked. “Plainsrunners?” Maybe she could meet them. Maybe she wouldn’t have to be a stranger here.

“No,” he said. “Maybe one or two a year. Mostly they’re from coastal villages. More like hundreds a year there.”

“Do you think I could meet some?” she asked. And, “Why do people come here?”

“You already have met one,” he said. “I came here fifteen years ago. As for why people come here, there are many reasons. Some of the coastal villages are very poor, and people come here looking for a better life.”

“Do they find it?” Sudden hope made her voice tremble slightly.

“Not most of them, no.” He pointed behind them with his thumb. “Most of them end up back there.”

She glanced back. “That’s no way to live.”

“No, it’s not.” He looked at her and shrugged, then continued. “Some people come here for excitement. They get bored with village life and come here looking for more.”

“Do they get it?”

He shook his head and jerked his thumb back over his shoulder. “Then there are the people like me,” he said, “who have been banished by their villages and have nowhere else to go.”

She was shocked and she stopped dead. “You were banished?”

“That’s right,” he said. “Like you.”

That really shocked her. And she also realized that her voice had been filled with accusation and condemnation. Her upbringing, with its indoctrination, showing through even here. She automatically condemned him, even though he was no more guilty than her. She looked at him and saw him smiling. She could tell that he knew what she was thinking, and that he didn’t blame her for it. Feeling awkward, she asked, “How did you know I was banished?”

Still smiling, he said, “You don’t look like the type of person to do that for the adventure.” Glancing at her ears, which still had the slowly fading scars, he said, “It has been quite an adventure, hasn’t it?”

It had. It still was, really. As she thought about it, she was looking around at the deserted streets and the dark buildings lining them. Up ahead she could see some light and the occasional movement, but here it seemed deserted. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Why is this part of the city so empty?”

“That’s a good question,” he said. “It doesn’t have a simple answer.” He stopped and turned to look back, and she stopped with him. They had passed a couple more streets and now had five between them and the slum. The buildings down there were less than ten meters tall. They got higher until some of them were as much as fifteen meters where they stood. “This is an older area,” he explained. “These buildings were mostly factories and warehouses.” He saw the query in her face and said, “Where things are made and stored.” He saw her frown and said, “We do things differently here. There aren’t many artisans left. Everything is mass-produced.” He could see that it wasn’t getting much clearer, so he decided to keep going. “Anyway, these buildings were getting old and losing their value. At the same time, the slums were growing and making things worse. Nobody wanted to buy property in this area, and as more businesses closed, it got worse and worse.”

Sage could follow that in theory. Nobody wanted to be here anymore, so there was nobody here. Except for a few predators like Rat and Snake, that is. But then, who did they prey on if there was nobody here? And another thing. Why were people living in slums when there were all these empty buildings here?

When she asked him that, he said, “The good people of this city don’t want those outsiders – they call them undesirables – getting any closer. Also, if they try they run into people like Rat, who want this place for themselves.”

She shook her head. “What a waste,” she said. “Wouldn’t it be more efficient to share what’s there?” She looked at him, incredulous. She was beginning to see why her people didn’t like the city, but this was more subtle than the simple evil she’d been taught.

He nodded. “Yes it would, but you won’t get anywhere trying to change it. There are some powerful people here who like things the way they are.” He noted her dissatisfied frown, and said, “We won’t fix it tonight, anyway, so let’s get you settled.” He started up the street toward the light. “I’ve got a place where you can stay for a few days, until we find something more permanent.”

She walked with him and thought, then her frown went away. “This is your way of changing it, isn’t it?” she said. “You can’t change the whole thing, so you do smaller things.” She walked a little farther, then asked, “Did anyone do this for you when you got here?”

He shook his head. “No, but things weren’t as bad then. It was easier to find your way, if you didn’t mind hard work. Now it doesn’t matter how hard you want to work, there’s nothing here for newcomers. That’s why I do this. So people can at least have a chance.”

He stopped walking and pointed at an open doorway on their right. They had moved into the populated area while they were talking, and there were a few people around now. They were interested enough to look at her, but they didn’t stare at her as she did at them. So, these were city people. They didn’t look that different. They were still interesting, though, as were the lights. Lights on tall poles, as if they were big torches, but they weren’t burning. They were giving off light without burning. She’d heard about that in stories, but had assumed it was exaggeration for the sake of the tale. Now here it was, actually happening. Sage decided she had a lot of thinking to do about everything she thought she knew.

Someone came out of the open doorway, drying her hands on the hem of her blanket. Sage had a thought: why is she wearing her blanket? She’s not carrying anything. But then she was speaking. She lifted her chin at Sage and said, “Is this her?”

“Yes,” said Sage’s escort. Then after asking her name, said “Sage, this is Skylight. Skylight will be your host for the next few days.”

“A few days?” asked Skylight. “I thought you said one or two at the most.”

“One or two, or a few. What’s the difference?”

“The difference is there’s a difference,” said Skylight. “I planned on a day or two.” She looked at Sage, who was waiting politely, then back. “Listen Digger, you can’t do this. If you meant a few days, you should have said so.”

Digger? thought Sage.

Digger smiled at Skylight. “If I had said that, would you have agreed?”

“Maybe I would and maybe I wouldn’t. The point is, you need to tell the truth so a person can decide.”

“No, Sky. The point is, Sage needs a place to stay. A couple of days or a few days. It won’t kill you.”

Skylight frowned at them, then snorted and turned to go inside. “Just a minute,” she said. “I’ll get the key.”

As soon as she was gone, Sage said, “I don’t want to cause any trouble. I don’t have to stay here if she doesn’t want me.”

“Yes you do have to stay here. There’s no place else at the moment, and you’re sure not going to find something on your own.” He looked at the doorway, smiling. “Sky just likes to act tough, but she’s really glad to do it.”

“She sure had me fooled.”

Digger laughed. “She’s glad to do it because I helped her the same way when she arrived ten years ago.” He smiled at her. “You’ll be doing the same soon enough.”

“Ah,” said Sage, nodding. Then, “Digger?”

“That’s my name,” he said.

“But not your Plainsrunner name. It’s your city name, right?”

“That’s right,” said Digger. “Because that’s what I do. I dig around, looking for ways to help people. I try to dig up places for them to stay, or find work for them to do.”

“I get it,” said Sage, and at that moment Skylight came out holding a big key. “Come on,” she said. “It’s around the side.”

She led them a short distance down the quieter side street to a big, rough door. She rattled the key in the lock and pulled it open. It showed a small room. It wasn’t much, but it looked dry and it would be secure. Sage would be able to take off her stuff and store it here. What a relief that would be after all this time.

“It’s not much,” said Skylight, “but it’s a safe place to sleep for a day or two.” She lowered a brow at Digger.

Sleep, thought Sage. This is where I’ll be sleeping. She’d assumed she’d stow her stuff here and sleep inside. But she didn’t let it put her off. It might not be much, but it was better than a lot of the places she’d slept in the last month. “It’s lovely, Skylight,” she said. “Thank you.” She stepped inside and began to remove her panniers.

“Yes, well,” said Skylight, handing her the key, “there’s no light in there, so once you close the door that’s it. You’re in the dark.” She turned to go back. “You’ll come inside to clean up and whatnot. We’ll be eating dinner soon.” When she got to the corner she stopped and said, “You keep that door locked at all times.” Then she was gone.

Sage, her head out the door, said, “Well, she seems nice.” Then she finished taking off her panniers and began to remove her blanket.

Digger spun away and said, “Whoa. Leave that on.”

“What?” she said, with her blanket half off.

Still facing away, he said, “We keep our blankets on except in private.”

“Why?” she asked. “It’s not cold.”

“We just do,” he said. “It’s a city thing.”

“All right,” she said, shrugging it back on. “You city people.”

“You’re a city person now too, Sage.” He saw her stop, and then nod. “Okay, you go inside and have dinner with Skylight and her husband and their son. And like she said, keep that door locked.”

“Right,” she said. “Even when I’m sleeping?”

“Especially then,” he said. “Okay. Are you good? Do you need anything else before I go?”

“I don’t think so.” How would she know?

“Okay then. I’ll be off. I’ll come by tomorrow and check in on you. Maybe I’ll have something figured out by then.”

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Thank you, Digger.”

“Sure.” He started to leave, then stopped and said, “Maybe you should take off that necklace, too.”

She looked down, reminded that it was there, and when she looked up Digger was just turning on to the other street. She looked back down, then lifted the necklace off over her head. As she hung it over her spear, she talked to her glider. “Well,” she said. “Here we are, I guess.”