Colin woke with a start. He gasped in surprise at the dream. It was an odd one: something about people, and something about retaliation. The airship chugged along through the night as rain patted the wood. Every once and a while, lightning would strike some unseen spot in the far off obscured distance. Colin got up from his bed, and stumbled in the darkness to the door to his cabin. He would wait for flashes of lightning to light up the darkness of his cabin, then try to keep the image in his mind.
Eventually, he made his way to a small nook in the wall of the ship, a large round window overlooking the unknown darkness. He sat down in the nook and gently pushed some books out of the way. He sat and stared out the window, pondering something unsaid. He pulled down his sleeve and revealed rows of small, red tallies lining his arm. He looked up again. Only the occasional flashes of lightning lit his face in the window.
Elsewhere, The Wanderer lay in bed. They had heard Colin get up, but decided not to intervene. Besides, they had their own thoughts to occupy them. They missed their city. It was golden and built on three mountains. It was never too hot, too cold, or anything else. It was perfect. Their lover was there, waiting for them. Thier people. Their family. As The Wanderer lay in the bed, silent streams of tears began to fall from their eyes. Images of running with their love through parks and hallways and alleyways and balconies. The Wanderer cried silently, missing a land and love long lost.
---+Later+---
Eventually, both individuals fell asleep. When the sun finally rose, the lightning left, but not the rain. As Colin wiped the sleep from his eyes, he stepped into the kitchen of the airship. It was larger than his room, but not by much. Potted plants hung from the ceiling. A mismatched counter of tiles sat in front of a window overlooking the rain-soaked land outside. The many mahogany cabinets were locked shut, preventing whatever was inside from falling out. The table was large. It was round and polished. It looked like the trunk of a tree was taken from a faraway forest and placed in the middle of this room. The Wanderer leaned against a sink, sipping from a mug.
"Ahhh!" Colin jumped. "What are you doing here!"
The Wanderer sipped their drink. "I figured I should share a breakfast with you." Their voice softened. "It's the last breakfast we'll share."
"Uhhh." Colin panted. "Sure."
"Want a hot chocolate?" The Wanderer opened a cabinet, waiting for an answer from Colin.
"Sure. But I'm pouring it down the sink if you put Polyvule pepper in it."
The Wanderer laughed.
Now, The Wanderer stands next to Colin, watching as the airship slows down to a familiar town. It is small, a stone fountain dominating the town square. Smaller houses surround the town square, protecting large plots of land. A few long winding dirt trails snake away and around the small town. Colin looked to The Wanderer.
"Here. I think you'll need this." They hand Colin a holster and a folded paper. Colin takes the paper, pockets it, and then slips on the holster. It is simple, a long leather strap that attaches to another pleather pouch at the hip.
"Don't use this unless you *have* to. The paper is instructions on how to make the bullets." The Wanderer reaches over and traces the strap. As if by magic, row after row of bullets appear on the strap. Then, they trace it backward, making the bullets disappear. "That's how you see your bullets. Again," The Wanderer stares into Colin's eyes. "You use that gun *only* if you have to. Look for a peaceful way to resolve things, but know that sometimes you simply can't." The Wanderer looks out at the small town as the airship settles in the grass. Colin could not see their eyes. They spoke softly. "Good luck in all your endeavors."
The Wanderer watched Colin walk down the gangplank. He looked over the town that was displayed in front of him, then back at The Wanderer. Then, he turns and runs back up, and envelops The Wanderer in a hug. The Wanderer startles in surprise, then hugs Colin back.
"Thank you," Colin whispers. The Wanderer nods, eyes wetting. After a few moments, Colin pulls back.
"You'd best get going." The Wanderer looked at Colin, eyes glistening.
"I think you're right." Colin smiles sadly, and begins the long walk back to the town. The Wanderer watched him until he was only a speck.
The airship chugs through old lands long forgotten. Ancient towers crumbled around the airship. The sky above is gray and dark. The air is windy and smells of ozone. The Wanderer stands at the bow of the ship, almost in a dream. Of its own accord, the airship begins to slowly drop through the air. It stops in front of a single trail, somehow ancient yet new. The Wanderer sighs and starts walking down as the gangplank extends. They begin to walk through the path, in a daze.
~~~---~~~
