Flexible Morals Ch. 02

Phyre ignored the huffiness of his tone and focused instead on the holes in his story. Overall, it didn't make a lot of sense, what with scythe-tailed monsters and swamps that didn't exist. "You made it up, didn't you? None of that actually happened."

"Gah, of all the— And to think that I—" Drop half-growled for a second before the sound cut itself off. When he spoke again, he sounded repentant. "Alright, I'll concede that you're rather astute for someone without any eyes. Yes, I made it all up. I don't like leaving favors unreturned, you see."

"Don't worry about it. Besides, we're almost there."

The town wasn't a very long walk from her home, barely more than ten minutes. It fell into her voice's range as she rose atop the crest of the slope on which the woods wandered. It was quite a decent sized place that had grown during her memory. The town fed off all of the land around it, its homes pulled from the trees and the earth, its goods harvested from the woods or fished from the river. Yet the true value of the town, she knew, came from the iron mine. The mine was what gave Fissure its name. Phyre couldn't see it yet. Her voice didn't carry that far unless she made it and then people would hear, but she knew what it looked like. A big patch of brown where the forest had been peeled back to make room for earthmoving equipment. She felt glad to have never had anything to do with it.

"Goodness, it's a rather big place, isn't it?" Drop remarked.

"It's not that big," Phyre contested as she started downhill towards Fissure's outskirts.

"Pah, that's easy for you to say. See you're built to fit this place. But me, mmm, I could go in there and get lost wandering back and forth for days. It'd take me hours just to cross the street," he made a nervous croak at such words.

"It's lucky you've got me then."

"Still," he went on having apparently not heard her. "I don't see why we really need to come here, seeing as how I could wish up whatever you're after."

"You're not afraid are you?" she asked, turning her head to him.

"Pah, we wishing frogs are born fearless. But that doesn't mean we have to go charging into the great unknown like this."

"It's not unknown." Phyre returned her attention to Fissure as it started coming into range of her voice. The outermost houses looked no different to how she had recalled them moments ago. Towns always grew very slowly. Sort of like a tree or the land itself. "Besides, I have to check on the shop." That was the main reason for their coming here. Phyre bit her cheeks as she faced the thought of how many days it would have been since anyone had been at her family's glassworks. Would people be wondering about that? "If you're so worried, you can hide in here." Without even waiting for his response, Phyre cupped the frog from her shoulder and placed him inside the threshold of her right sleeve.

Fissure was in its usual stages of waking up for the morning routine. Folk were leaving home, most clad in gritty, mining duds or other work clothes that they hadn't bothered to clean lately. Why make the effort if it was only going to get filthy again the very next day? The ones who walked did so at a trudge while the Skytouched swooped overhead on their jagged, airy wings. She watched the graceful creatures and wondered, for a moment, what it would be like to have atohs of her own so that she could join them as they flew on the wind. Beneath them, crowding the main street that Phyre was crossing, were travelers readying to set off. Traders mostly, their wagons laden with whatever iron crafts or goods that they had loaded up on to sell elsewhere. There wouldn't be any glass on those wagons for a while.

Phyre moved on from that thought and stepped briskly down an alleyway that would take her closer to the river's edge where it ran past the town. She had so many memories of standing by as negotiations took place between her parents and merchants from afar. Such normally took place at the shop which had been built on the riverside so that it had plenty of access to water. That was where many of the town's forges were built too. Everything that needed fire was put where it was wettest.

It wasn't immediately clear to Phyre what she was seeing. Almost as if her mind was refusing to accept the reality. For the most part, the street by the river looked as it always had. A cobbled road with an occasional weed poking its head between the stones. Houses on one side, many of which doubled as their owners' stores, workshops on the other. A blacksmith, employed by the mine, who made tools for digging. Then two who worked the more delicate side of metal, then her parent's glassworks, then another blacksmith whose main trade, she had observed, seemed to be arming the town's garrison. Except, this time, the glassworks weren't there. Her voice rose and fell, sweeping the spot where it had been. There had to be something wrong with her vision, that was all.

"That's not it, is it, Phyre?" asked Drop with a croak. "Don't tell me that's the place."

She walked towards the burned out husk of a building that the frog was referring to. All that remained of it were the stone supports for the walls and a few blackened beams. She could tell already that this fire was different. Nothing but the wood had burned, unlike her home. What that meant, she wasn't quite sure. Maybe this one had been accidental, though it seemed unlikely. She reached the spot where the entrance had been and placed a hand upon a part of the walls remnants. "Who did this?" she asked herself.

"Phyre? Is that you?" came a woman's voice from up the street.

Without turning in that direction, Phyre sent her voice to see who was approaching. She recognised the figure immediately as Mrs. Lanis, a long time friend and customer of her family. Phyre could also recall a few faint instances in which either Mrs. Lanis or her husband had come with complaints of a fever or a torn muscle and her father had fixed them up. Though the days of healing had been years ago.

She was rather pudgy as far as Skytouched went, especially around the cheeks. Seeing her approach invoked memories of the baked treats that she sometimes brought around, prepared while Mr. Lanis worked in the mine. It seemed to be a sort of hobby for her, more than a profession. Phyre waited until the woman grew closer but couldn't think of anything to say once she had. Normally they would talk inside the shop. There wasn't a point to that now.

"Phyre, my child, where've you been? We've been terribly worried having seen neither hide nor hair of you since the fire. Niptri and I were terrified that you'd all been inside at the time, though I couldn't think why you would've been. Oh, it does my nerves wonders to see you here and unscathed. So tell me, how is your family managing? Has your father set about finding a new spot to set up?"

For several moments, Phyre could only stare at the woman and try to sort out everything that she was hearing. Despite her best efforts, it was a fruitless venture. Instead she collapsed against the woman as a pain wracked her guts. "Hatra, they're dead! They're both dead!" she cried.