Page 9 of Forged Flight

Maybe it’s because I see something of myself in her. Left broken and alone, forced to survive on her own.

Except she isn’t alone anymore.

Because Micah found her.

And Micah…

He’s something else.

After shrugging on my coat, I tuck my sketchbook beneath my arm and step into the crisp morning air.

Thistle Grove is only just waking. Shopkeepers prop open their doors, merchants argue over produce deliveries, and somewhere down the street, a wagon wheel slams into a pothole hard enough to earn a string of colorful curses.

Fallen leaves scatter across the cobblestone streets, crunching beneath passing boots, while pumpkins and neatly stacked hay bales decorate nearly every front stoop in preparation for the annual Pumpkin Moons Festival.

In just three weeks, the village will be overflowing with visitors, all eager to watch the twin moons turn a vibrant shade of orange.

According to the ancient scrolls, the celestial event marks the night the harvest goddess found her soulmate—the one she lovingly carved from a humble pumpkin before breathing life into her.

Personally, I think it’s just an excuse for extravagant masquerade balls, pumpkin-spiced lattes, and outrageously overpriced autumn decorations.

But I digress.

The little café on the corner is already busy when I step inside, the scent of roasted beans and fresh bread cutting through the lingering chill outside.

The bell above the door jingles.

“Morning, Lucan!”

Bruna looks up from behind the counter, her broad bovine face splitting into an easy smile, tusks and all. The towering minotaur barely glances toward the coffee pot before reaching for a cup. Years of routine have made the exchange almost automatic.

She slides the steaming coffee toward me. “Good morning, Lucan!”

“Morning.”

I fish a few coins from my pocket before hesitating.

Does Micah like coffee?

“Actually…” I say, clearing my throat. “Can I get another?”

She pauses only long enough to blink before reaching for a second cup. From the kitchen comes the unmistakable sound of something clattering onto a counter.

Bruna’s wife, Sera, barges through the doorway with wide crimson eyes. The hellborn clasps her hands together and bounces on her toes with excitement.

“Oh, stars above!” A grin stretches across her face, exposing pointed teeth. “Lucan, did you finally find a mate?”

I stare at her over the rim of my cup. “No.”

“No?”

“It’s just an acquaintance.”

She narrows her eyes. “So you’re just… being friendly?”

I huff. “Yes. Is that a crime?”

She laughs. “It’s incredibly uncharacteristic of you.”