Initial Escape

"GO, GO, GO! THEY'RE RIGHT BEHIND US!" 

"I'M TRYING."

My breathing becomes unsteady, and my heart pounds in my chest to a monstrous beat. My eyes dart around the scene, searching for a way out, as shouting and stomping echo behind us. A flat-roofed building catches my attention, and I shift our direction towards it. The others seem to instinctively follow me, evidenced by the footsteps over my shoulder. 

We race up the cold, stone stairs, maneuvering from room to room to evade our pursuers. Upon reaching the roof, I notice there are two buildings slightly lower than the one we're standing on. A single guard manages to catch up with us, shouting harsh words from a little way down the stairwell.

"Well, this is exciting!" Astrid shouts over the wind, trying to lighten the mood.

"I don't find near-death very exciting! See a shrink!" Kurtis responds, eliciting a snicker from me. "You two go that way and me, Astrid and Zenith will go this way!" 

I lead Samson towards the building to our left. I jump knowing he won't do it first; I haven't had this much action in weeks so, the leap lacks finesse. I land safely, stand up, and turn to Samson who has never been on the run before, being a goodie-two-shoes and all. 

"You got this it's easy, I swear! Just don't look down!" Despite my efforts, he does exactly what I told him NOT to do and as a result, he just slides down the roof tiles instead, like a coward. Luckily, I scoop him right into my arms. Samson's surprisingly very light for a 19-year-old Caninian. I run to the nearest and lowest drop I can see and go for it. 

"Tuck your chin!" I warn as I dive, squinting my pale yellow eyes. We hit the ground with a thump, but both of us seem fine, so I sprint to a random store down the street.

When I open the door catching my breath, the doors ring and many creatures glance over at us. My social awkwardness overcomes me, and my eyes widen at the sudden influx of people. I slowly set Samson down and hide behind him although I'm one foot taller than him. 

"What are you doing, idiot?" he whispers to me in an annoyed tone, his tail barely missing my face. I peek at our situation from his side, and I notice that we're in a bookstore.

Why here of all places?

"Just say we're here to get some books." He sighs in response.

"We're looking for the One Spell Away series, do any of you happen to know where that would be? Also is there a coffee bar here, perchance?"

Someone in the crowd beams, "Yes sir, One Spell Away is in aisle two, section O, and the coffee is in the back right corner over there, you see?" pointing in the direction of the beautifully decorated coffee bar, with almost no line.

 I stand back up and readjust my jacket. We thank the elderly dwarf and make our way to the coffee bar. As we walk, I gaze around the store. The paneled floor, stained a cherry red, scuffs of boots speckled across it. Pendant lights hanging from the ceiling, and wood arches in between the tall cases of books. Skimming the beautifully organized shelves, I see what looks like a journal. 

"Hey wait, come look at this. It looks important, right?" I pluck it off the shelf and hold it up to show Samson. It's a dark royal purple leather book, the pages are weathered and it seems pretty beat up; so it's obvious why I would think this. Samson snatches it from me and starts flipping through the pages quickly. Any interest he had drained from his face as he shut the book and shoved it back where I got it.

"Never mind, I thought that this was a book that only Queen Ozvie should have access to. It's a boring book about the Cathedral of Vexva." Samson states with a disappointed sigh as he strides towards the coffee bar. I shuffle behind him, wondering why that would be significant; meanwhile my anxiety spikes at the mention of that cult.

We get to the counter and a stunning Ovisian is handing a cup to another customer out of my view. Samson rings the bell and the lady's head shoots up, she trots over to us, her hooves clopping against the hardwood.

"Hello, my apologies! How can I help you today?" Her eyes shimmer in the fairy lights hanging above us, and her small horns peeking behind her tan curls.

"Yes, I would like a tall macchiato and a…" he looks back at me to order. 

"A lemonade please, ma'am." I request with a wink. Samson's ears turn as he shoots me a confused look.

"A tall macchiato and a lemonade, alright that'll be... seven twenty-four." The barista announces cheerfully, smiling. Samson pulls out a wallet and takes out cash, placing it on the counter.

"Keep the change." He says with a nod. 

"Those will be right out for you! What's the name of the order?" Glancing at Samson through her thick eyelashes holding a pen and paper. 

"Samson. Thank you." He answers, then hints to me to find a table. 

"If you would have me, I'd like to take you out-" My smooth talk is rudely interrupted by this golden annoyance.

"Go find us a table, would you, Roxley?" He demands more than asks, narrowing his eyes to seem as aggressive as he can. He's not, but I oblige.

I gaze around the room for a comfortable place to sit and notice two plush chairs sitting across from each other splashed with color, waves, and patterns all over them. Sandwiched between them is a rounded stained-glass table with black metal framing.

I drift towards them in awe. I squat down to admire their seam-work and all of a sudden hear a voice behind me. 

"What did you drop?" I glance over my shoulder and Samson is standing there with a puzzled look on his face, with our two drinks in his paws. 

"Oh! No, look at these chairs and this table! Aren't they such beauties?!" I chime with the largest grin on my face, my spaded tail thrashing about excitedly.

He shakes his head and sets the drinks down.

"Yes, indeed they are but we need to relax. We were just running for our lives; I think we deserve a moment before having to go back to that. Besides, I'm exhausted from having to run, jump, and dive off rooftops all day." He reasons, lending his paw to me. 

I begrudgingly accept his helping hand and sit in the chair he set my drink in front of. 

He's tired? He barely did anything!

I shuffle in my seat, getting comfortable in the soft chair.

"So… this weather hey?" he mutters sipping on his coffee.

"What about it?"

"I don't know how to do small talk with poor people so I started with something you might worry about." He pauses and takes a drink. "But… you clearly don't do small talk so I'm going to shut up."

I chug my lemonade, a petty grin spreading across my face.

He glances at me as he's taking his sweet time with his drink.

"How are you done already? I'm not even halfway done!" He groans, setting his cup down with a gentle thud in shock.

I chuckle hearing this, standing up. I shift all my weight to my left leg, setting my hand on my hip as my tail whips around impatiently. He shoots me an irritated look, before continuing his coffee sipping. 

I stand there for what seems like forever when he finally looks back at me with an empty cup in his paw.

"Oh thank the gods, you're finally done after all this time. Hurry, let's go." I groan walking to the front of the bookstore.

"Wait, where are you going? We need survival guide stuff, none of us know how to live like this. I'll go get them." He says scurrying away.

 I stand there in disbelief that he thinks, that I don't know how to survive without a roof over my head. He's the one who called me poor, he should know that I do know. I shrug and before I know it, I see him shuffling back with about 3-4 books in paws.

"Do we really need that many?" 

"We're going to be living out in the wilderness, of course we do! We need to know how to live, and what to look out for."

I complain our whole way to the cash register, which isn't long but it's still a distance.

"You can pay for all that right?" I ask because he didn't seem to have much cash on him when he paid for the drinks. Don't question how I know that. 

"Uhm, I think so."

We get to the counter and the Caninian cashier with pointed ears and a long muzzle asks us the usual customer service things.

"Alright, that'll be $32.26. Will you be paying cash or card?"

"Oh shoot, I can only afford up to $16.20…" he hands me the hardback book, "Go put that back. I'll pay for these two." He says turning back to the cashier. 

I stride to a random aisle and shove the book onto a shelf. On my way back, I snatch a stranger's wallet from their back pocket and shove it under my jacket. When I get to the counter, Samson is waiting for me. 

We walk out of the bookstore, carrying the bag of books, suddenly realizing how late it is.

"Man, what time is it?" I ask a bit shocked.

"Time for us to find a place to sleep."

"Already? The night is young." I turn to him, then remember where he came from. "Right. Mr. Rich-boy can't stay awake past 20 o'clock." I snicker at my comment.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I can't believe that you can."

We roam the streets for a hotel or something, as I unashamedly pickpocket some people along the way, for about ten minutes before spotting a tavern.

We enter the pebbled-wall building with our tails trailing behind us, and a silky-furred shepherd is leaning back in an office chair with his paws behind his head.

"Hey, welcome! How many?" He asks, sitting up and grabbing a notebook and pen, setting it on the counter.

"Two. Me and her." Samson quickly responds, gesturing towards me with his head, rather than the paws he has in front of him.

"And your names?"

"Samson and Roxley."

"Alright, here's your key. Second floor to the left."

"Thank you, sir." Samson slides the remaining five bucks he saved from earlier onto the counter as we walk away.

We head up the stairs, and into our room. It's nicer than where I've been sleeping so that's a plus. I flop onto my bed and make a sort of snow angel out of the covers. I sit back up and look towards Samson who's staring at his bed in disgust.

"What's the thread count on this duvet? It looks so thin! And what is wrong with this singular, flat pillow? Shouldn't there be eight pillows?! I'm calling corporate, this is unacceptable. The bed is so small, it's more like a sleeping bag." He complains pacing back and forth, rubbing his temple with his claws.

I shudder at his rich-kid behavior.

"Come on, at least pretend to be normal. Don't contact corporate, you'll just be wasting their time. This is called a twin bed, and the thread count shouldn't matter, it's a damn blanket."

Samson scoffs and lays on his bed uncomfortably.

"Go to sleep, we can plan everything tomorrow," I say, my back facing Samson.

Samson's "ew" s, and "ugh" s continue for a few hours before he finally falls asleep. Only then did I actually sleep.

The morning comes and the sun's rays stab at my eyes, as I groan sitting up and stretching. Aside from Samson's whining, that was the best sleep I've had in a long time.

The door creaks open with struggling grunts from Samson. He stumbles in holding a bag of something.

"What…What is that?" I mumble half-awake.

"It's breakfast. Do you like bagels, 'cause I got lots of 'em."

"Oh," I say rubbing my eyes. "Where did you get them, and with what money?"

"Downstairs, they offer complimentary breakfast. I got a lot of bagels and wafers."

I gasp.

"I love wafers, gimmie 'em."

"Alright, alright, let me get some plates and silverware."

He trots back downstairs to get them, while I sit there with a grin on my face. I get out of bed and sit at the small table we were given, waiting excitedly for good food. I yawn, stretch, and look out of our single window. The trollies filled with people pass, and the crows of Dranorsae echo in the far distance. I notice an unfamiliar silhouette atop a brick building before I become distracted by Samson's quick footsteps on the stairs.

"I'm back with tableware." He happily expresses, entering the room.

Samson places the plates and silverware and opens the bag of food. He takes his fair share of food from the smaller boxes, and I do the same.

"Did they have syrup?"

"Yes, there should be some in the bag." He responds gesturing towards the bag with his paws. I grab the bag and search it as if this were a crime scene.

"Aha!" I pronounce, yanking the syrup pouches out of the bag.

We eat in silence, and he has several plates of bagels with cream cheese, as I finish only three plates.

"Alright, so what's our plan, genius?" Samson asks promptly, glancing at me through his reading glasses. I nod with a chuckle.

"We need to contact the others and figure out where we will meet up. For now, we should focus on getting actual clothes. We look suspicious in pajamas. Well, more you than me 'cause' I'm poor and sleep in my normal clothes."

"Fair enough." 

We finish eating and check out of the small tavern. As we walk down the street, I let out a sigh.

"Too bad we had to leave, that place was really nice."

"I'm still offended that there was only one pillow for someone as noble as me," Samson complains, with his paws behind his head, and his tail thrashing with frustration. I laugh for a while, then decide to summon my able-scroll and open the GMS to search for an affordable clothing store.

"The nearest one is two and a half miles away," I groan, dismissing the able-scroll with a wave. "It'll take us all day to get there!"

 "How? We have a driver to escort us, right?" I chuckle at his spoiled and pampered behavior.

 "No, we have to walk there, you douchebag." He blankly stares at me in obvious confusion. "Oh, you poor soul, you have to use your legs for what they're meant for? Damn, guess you'll die." I scoff throwing my hands up sarcastically. I giggle between sentences, he's just such a spoiled brat. I pause and stare in confusion when I notice his eyes are watering. Is he crying over having to walk? This man-child is making my soul hurt. He pouts a little before wiping his eyes.

 "Alright," he sniffles. "Let us go."

I snicker at his insanity. Yeah, he's stupid.