“Works for me,” Crow nodded when Penelope suggested they make their way back to the main road. Slinging his supplies over his shoulders again, he started walking in the direction they had come from. His mind began to fill with unpleasant thoughts about the mission, though he tried hard to ignore them. The myth about the king’s staff stood at the forefront, commanding his attention. Was the rumor about its link to divine right true? If what Hartley had said about the Younisian king’s unearthly protection was correct, it definitely sounded like he had the gods on his side.

[i]But if he does, what does that mean for me?[/i] He swallowed nervously. The king of Brerra had made it sound like anyone who touched the staff would die. He didn’t know how a goddess would kill someone, but he most certainly didn’t want to find out. What he had thought would be a simple palace raid was turning into something much more complex. He sighed. [i]What have I gotten myself into?[/i]

Attempting to distract himself, Crow began eyeing coin purses on the hips of the people they passed by. He knew it would be smart to keep his head down—especially after what had happened in the last town—but he couldn’t help his nature. Besides, he had gotten caught trying to steal from a wealthy merchant. What was the harm in taking money from a few well-to-do peasants?

Casting a brief glance at the other two to make sure they weren’t looking in his direction, he reached gingerly for the purse of a nearby woman. She was looking away, completely inattentive to the money hanging vulnerably from her body. A perfect target. However, his fingers just brushed the edge of the fabric when he spotted something that made him halt in his tracks: a silver pendant dangled next to the coin purse, engraved with a singular eye that seemed to look back at him. Although he had never seen the design before, he somehow knew it must have been related to that detestable goddess, Aeklora. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and retracted his hand, shoving it in his pocket.

[i]Why couldn’t the Younisians have a goddess of mercy or pacifism?[/i] He spat on the ground in frustration. [i]No, they had to have a damn goddess of ‘vision and truth.’[/i] He disliked how much more difficult it was for him to steal in this kingdom. It seemed like everywhere they went, Aeklora was whispering in his ear: “I’m watching you.” He missed when he only had to worry about being caught by human eyes.

“Two or three days, huh?” Crow said after a while. “Is that on foot or by wagon?”

“On foot, obviously,” Hartley scoffed. “We don’t have a wagon anymore.”

“Maybe not,” Crow said, his green eyes falling on a nearby cart filled with hay. It was being pulled by two donkeys, with a farmer riding atop one of them. “But maybe we won’t have to walk.” Without waiting for approval, he took off at a light jog, making his way towards the farmer.

“Excuse me, sir!” he called in his Younisian accent.

“Hm?” the man grunted, turning to look at him. “What is it? I’m in a hurry.”

“I’ll make it quick then,” Crow offered him a friendly smile. “My friends and I are headed in the same direction as you. We’ve been travelling for days and our feet are sore, so I was wondering if you’d be so kind as to let us ride in your wagon for a while.”

The farmer was quiet for a moment, his eyes sweeping over the thief contemplatively until, at last, he nodded, “Fine. As long as you don’t slow me down, you can hitch a ride.”

“I appreciate your generosity,” Crow thanked the man. He hopped into the cart and turned back to wave to Penelope and Hartley, signaling for them to come join him.