Kirra

sitting next to the Jezebel

It began to rain.

A gentle patter, at first; Kirra hadn’t bothered to put her hood up as she and her familiar, Payne, wound through the twisted streets of Laketon on-the-moor. Dingy, even dark maybe, but nothing to bother her with. It’s not until they pass the outskirts that Kirra’s hands part her cloak to draw the heavy, shadowed cap over her honey-colored hair. As the last charcoal rays of daylight slip below the horizon and Payne’s heavy, unshod walk puts distance between them and Laketon, Kirra feels her mood sour along with the oncoming weather.

Payne: “On to the next town?” The roan-and-white spotted stallion asks, telepathically. “Today’s been hard, I know. You can sleep and I’ll do the leg work.”

“No, no ‘next town’, Payne.” The slumped over woman mumbles aloud. “If we keep doing this, where does it end? Homeless forever? Hermits in the woods?” She exasperates, shifting her position atop his bare back. The only sound to follow her worries is the constant crunch, crunch, crunch of Payne’s steps; he knew better than to try and reason with his rider. Kirra was always the one to rush to conclusions, to open her mouth without thinking and Payne? More or less her sanity in the shape of a horse.

The main road curves aside, drawing the pair into further darkness while the flat layout changes slowly to gentle hills.

Payne: “You can trap well enough, and I can find forage for myself … the woods don’t sound so bad.” Her mount thinks, the humanistic roll of his shoulders beneath her thighs all he can manage in the way of a shrug.

“As if sharing my most private space with you wasn’t enough,” Kirra laughs aloud, a boisterous sound that echoes around them, “Now you want us to live outside our heads together, alone, indefinitely?” She muses, shaking her head. Payne only snorts in reply to her jab - they both knew it could be done (had been done, before) but the isolation would take a serious mental toll on Kirra’s health.

Payne: “Yes, how could I forget your overwhelming need for social acceptance and attention?” He grumbles mentally, “Silly me.”

Kirra sighed and drew her arms around the thick section of his lovely neck. Poor Payne, always so offended. In his mind, he should be the most important thing in Kirra’s life, and when the female fairy had slipped into a bought of depression so deep even he couldn’t rouse a laugh from her, Payne’s worries and overbearing nature had turned into resent. “You know that no fairy could’ve pulled me out of my own head like you did, m’love.” She whispers into his wet mane. “Now find us a good spot to sleep, would you?”

The bluish sabino crow-hopped and Kirra clung to him with a lighthearted chuckle. She knew what he was feeling, that she was being bossy, but it doesn’t stop him from jumping the ditch on the roadside to take them on a straight path right through a dark olive grove. Even in this weather, the disjointed group of wandering fae located here had managed to keep a bonfire high and bright. For that, both Kirra and Payne are grateful as they ease to a halt just a few feet away from the pit.

No one really questions them as Kirra dismounts, and why would they? All are passerbys here, none need to engage in conversation or explain themselves. A few unknown faces nod Kirra’s way when she comes to take an open place at the fireside, Payne nudging around for a bite to eat in her empty pockets. “Song in exchange for a morsel to eat, anyone?” She pipes up, extending her weary palms towards the open flame.

It’d worked on occasion, perhaps tonight she’d get lucky and find a fairy or two that appreciated the arts.