Greykin Mountain

| 31 | Missing

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Jackson wanted to keep as far from the red-roofed building as possible. So, he followed the road forward and to the right.

          He wasn't met with evil, skeptical stares or surrounded by a flurry of wary murmurs. The occasional person glanced at him for a moment, but their stares didn't make him feel as though he was being sized up. He felt like the new guy at school, and that was better than feeling like a lobster in a restaurant tank.

          But then he saw why everyone here seemed so relaxed. Waiting in line by a cart selling fresh pastries was a man in full leather armour; he had a rifle over his shoulder, a silver sword at his side, and the same symbol on his back as that which was on the flag hanging over the red-roofed building.

          And he wasn't the only one. Jackson spotted another armed man sitting on a bench with a cup of coffee, and another on his way up some stairs between two houses.

          Jackson tried to remain calm—not one of them was looking at him, so he was fine. He was fine...right?

          With a deep, quiet exhale, he made his way across the icy road and onto the concrete sidewalk. He needed to find a pharmacy, but he struggled to concentrate when he came to the street corner. This place wasn't as rustic as the last places he'd been to. Not just the cars...but there was an internet café across the road, public telephones beside parking meters—there was even a store selling flatscreens. If it weren't for all the snow, this place might just remind him of home a little.

          He looked down at his bag of trading items. If they were selling flatscreens and had internet, then the people here were probably looking for money, not goblets and wine bottles. And he knew just where to get it.

          Before he crossed the road, he looked to his left and right, and once he was on the other side, he made his way up the street towards a pawn shop. The store's window displayed all kinds of things from antique furniture to silver weapons and humongous gemstones. This was the right place.

          As he pushed the door open, the bell chimed, and the bald man behind the counter stopped cleaning his register and stared at Jackson from across the room.

          "Morning!" Jackson called.

          "Mornin'," the man replied.

          The store smelled musty with a hint of wool and tobacco, just as Jackson had suspected it might. Old clocks, vases, plates, and very old-looking books made up most of the store's inventory. To the right, a tall, glass cabinet displayed all sorts of weapons, modern and old. And on the left was a long, wall-height shelf lined with at least fifty different animal trophies...but he didn't recognize a single one, save for the huge wolf head.

          He tried his best not to shiver and headed over to the counter. "I've got a few things for you," he said to the man as he opened his bag.

          The man leaned over the counter with a curious look on his face and watched as Jackson pulled each item out. His eyes got bigger with each reveal, and when Jackson was done, the man tapped his chin. "Hmm. Where'd you get this stuff?"

          "I came across a ruin while I was out there," he said, closing his bag.

          Looking him up and down again, the man nodded and fiddled with his ginger moustache. "You outta arrows? I got arrows—"

          "A-actually, I was looking for cash."

          He nodded and pulled out a notepad. "You ain't from around here, are you?" he asked as he started writing, glancing at each item.