Eli hesitated, searching for the right words. "Sled... sky-sled. Mine," he said, gesturing toward the wreckage. "Not-danger. Broken. Unhappy."

  Folly blinked. He angled his ears towards Eli, as if pointing all four towards him would somehow let him hear the sense in what he'd just heard. He tried to imagine a sled that could fly through the sky as easily as he could, but it would be too heavy, too unstable. And the amount of wood it would take... Folly didn't want to consider the cost.

  He saw Suda tilt her head, narrowing her large eyes as she studied the wreckage. "Unhappy?" she repeated. Folly could hear the curiosity dripping from her tone, but there was something else, something she'd caught that he didn't understand.

  One ear swiveled instinctively to Tia as she chirped softly, feathers ruffling as she stepped closer to Eli. She placed a gentle claw on his arm. "Friends?" she asked, her voice soft but probing.

  Eli shook his head. "Friends. Then alone." he said. Tia didn't reply, but pressed her ears flat against her skull in distress at his implication.

  Folly's ears plunged, too. He doesn't mean unhappy, he realized, This is a place of sorrow.

  "... beast?" Tia continued, tentatively.

  "No. Storm." Eli replied.

  Folly felt himself recoil, as if struck. "Shell of the First!" he cursed.

  Suda inhaled sharply. "A storm destroyed metal? What kind of storm...?" she said, seemingly forgetting to use words Eli would understand. She gave a start and, after composing herself, looked back to Eli. She almost replied, but as she and Folly both turned back to look at Eli, they saw his expression.

  His face was ashen, like stone. His jaw worked against itself, as if his thoughts were gristle he couldn't manage to swallow. His brow moved upon itself, claw-furrowed as if attempting to write something upon his face. Folly may not have been able to truly understand what was on Eli's mind, but he knew pain when he saw it.

  A quick glance at Tia told him she'd noticed, too. She was already chirping at him, hoping to serve as a distraction from whatever kind of night was passing through his heart.

  Folly flicked his tail at Suda's ear to get her attention. He tilted his head towards the nearby cluster of wreckage and then began to walk, prompting her to follow him behind a jagged piece of the sky-sled's warped and scorched hull. Folly's voice kept a low tune, barely audible over the faint rustle of the wind through the nearby trees.

  "This isn't just broken," Folly said, running a claw along the edge of the metal. "Look at how it's torn. Torn, like tapestry. No beast or storm could do this. Not even the devouring winds from the Shattered Peaks." He glanced back at Eli, who was now sitting on a rock, staring at the ground while Tia chirped softly beside him. "I don't think we've got the full story."

  Suda's feathers rippled. "You think he's hiding something?" she asked.

  Folly saw the incredulous look in her eyes and added quickly, "Not on purpose. But there's more to this sky-sled than he's got words to say." He clicked a claw on the scorched plating. "And if a storm did do this..." He trailed off as his gaze drifted to the horizon, where the sky met the jagged line of distant mountains. "What kind of storm are we talking about? One that can tear metal apart?"

  Suda's claws tightened against the wreckage. "If such a storm exists, it's not of this world," she said slowly. "Maybe he isn't, either."

  Folly's tail shook with annoyance. "You're sounding like Oreo, now," he muttered, then slowly drew his ears up as he considered what her words were implying. "Where else would he be from? Beyond the Veil?" He clicked his tongue dismissively. "Suda, he's not some spirit or ember. He's flesh and bone, just like us. Look at him — he's as lost as a hatchling in a snowstorm."

  Suda leaned over, peering into a gap in the hull as she replied. "And yet." she said, "he came from the sky."

  Folly opened his mouth to argue, but stopped when Suda pointed wordlessly to the gap. He pressed closer, his vision quickly adjusting to the darkness as he peered into the crevice. Inside, he saw a tangle of thin, colored tendrils, their surfaces smooth and unnatural, like the veins of a creature — only hardened and lifeless. Some were coiled like vines, others stretched taut, connecting to strange, flat plates etched with patterns that seemed to pulse faintly in the dim light. He tilted his head and forced his tail to sit still through his unease. "It's... like a nest," he murmured, "but not one made by anything that breathes."

  He reached out, his claw hovering just above one of the tendrils. "And these markings," he said, voice hushed, "they're too precise, too deliberate. Like the carvings on the Oldest Trees, but... smaller. Tighter." He pulled his claw back and found his feathers bristling.

  "He came from the sky," Suda repeated, almost as if for herself more than for Folly, "In a sled made of metal that even the fiercest winds couldn't tear apart. Until they did. The Veil doesn't send anyone back once they've burned out."

  Folly pulled himself away from the unsettling tangle of petrified not-quite-life inside the hull. He moved to reply, but his sight caught on another section of the wreckage a few paces away. He straightened, ears swiveling forward as he padded over to a section of the hull where the metal panels had been stripped away. The edges were jagged, but not from impact or fire. He crouched low to brush his claws against the surface, tracing lines that were too straight, too deliberate to have come from the fall. "Suda," he called. "Come look at this."

  Suda followed, her talons clicking softly against the permafrost. She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes as she studied the marks Folly pointed to. "These aren't from the storm." she said after a moment.

  Folly nodded. "These are tool marks. Someone took pieces from Eli's sled. Scavengers. But who? And why?"

  Suda thought for a moment, claws to her chin as she pondered. Her ears fell in sync with her wings as she seemed to come to a conclusion. "Tia's report from town!" she said, ears suddenly shooting to the sky as she remembered, "Mountain raiders have been seen here, on the plains."

  Folly grimaced. "This metal... it might be worth a fortune to them, if it's made of more than iron." He turned to Eli who had begun to pace, and then to their sled, carrying everything they owned. "If they’ve been here, if they've taken parts of his sled... they might come back. And if they're from the mountain? They won't care who's in their way."

  Suda's lashing tail betrayed her worry. "Then we don't have time to wonder," she urged. "If raiders are involved, they could be close. We need to move. Now."

  Folly nodded, flattening his ears as he turned back toward Eli and Tia. The two of them hurried over, not bothering to step quietly over the ice-hardened ground. Tia was standing now, her feathers disarrayed as she watched Eli pace back and forth. Her ears flicked back as they filled her in, and she nodded sharply. "We should go. I'll... I'll go check the cart," she said firmly, then turned to cast a softer look to Eli. "What do we tell him?"

  "The truth." said Suda as she stepped directly into Eli's path.

  While she tried to convey the danger through a mix of gestures and broken words, Folly's gaze swept the area, his ears scanning in all directions as he searched for Oreo. The loud blue blur had been unusually quiet, and that alone was enough to set Folly on edge. "Where is he?" Folly muttered under his breath, already feeling his crest rising in annoyance. "If he's not here causing trouble, he's probably off finding it somewhere else." He shook his head, a faint growl rumbling in his throat. "Of all the times to wander off..."

  He didn't have to wait long — a sky-blue streak leapt from behind the wreckage, hoisting a small box over his head. "Eeeeeellllliiiiii, what-this, what-this!?" he exclaimed, trilling excitedly as he approached, only to skid to a halt before Suda's withering gaze. Eli looked at him with a sad smile, but when his eyes passed over the box, he frowned and turned away.

  Oreo's ears drooped, his exuberance faltering under Suda's sharp stare and Eli's somber reaction. He lowered the box, tail wavering uncertainly as he glanced between them. "What?" he chirped, his voice losing its earlier excitement. "It was just... lying there. I thought it might be important."

  Folly stalked over, his feathers bristling. "You thought?" he snapped, trying to keep his voice quiet, failing to mask the edge of frustration. "While we're trying to figure out how to keep everyone safe, you're running off with—" He cut himself off, glancing at the box in Oreo’s claws. It was small, unassuming, but the faint hum coming from it made his ears twitch. "What even is that?"

  Oreo shrugged, flattening his feathers defensively. "I don’t know! It was just... there. And it was shiny." He held it out to Folly, who hesitated before taking it. The box was lighter than he expected, its surface smooth and cool to the touch. Strange symbols were etched into its surface, and a faint, rhythmic hum — so quiet he had to focus all four ears onto it to even make it out — seemed to emanate from within. Folly's ears swiveled, his curiosity momentarily overriding his irritation.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Suda stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as she regarded the box. "We don't have time to figure it out right now." she said firmly.

  Folly continued where she left off, and clicked his claws to draw Oreo's wandering attention once again. "Raiders could be nearby, and we need to move. Now."

  Oreo gasped, then shuddered, his demeanor fully evaporated into dread. "Raiders? Like, from the mountains?"

  Folly nodded, reluctantly passing the box back to Oreo. "Keep it," he said, his tone grudging. "But don't try to open it. And don't wander off again. Understood?"

  Oreo swallowed, then perked his ears as his earlier enthusiasm returned in a flash. "Understood!" he chirped, clutching the box to his chest. "But if it starts making noises, I'm not responsible."

  Folly groaned. "Why do I even bother?" he muttered, before turning to Suda. "Let's get moving. The sooner we're away from here, the better."

  As the group gathered their belongings and prepared to leave, Folly cast one last glance at the wreckage. The scavenger marks, the strange box, Eli's haunted expression — he didn't like any of it. It all added up to a big, stormy din, and Folly couldn't shake the feeling that they were only seeing the edges of it.

  ────────────────────────────────────────

  While they walked, Tia quickly fell into line beside Eli. She glanced at him, ears swaying back and forth in the most overt expression of sympathy she could manage. "Eli? We're still with you." she said again, her voice gentle. This time, it wasn't a question.

  Eli managed a small smile, though she could tell it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yes. Friends." he echoed in his broken speech, but his attention remained elsewhere. She saw him frown as his mind wandered, likely dragging him through his memories of falling from the sky.

  She didn't fully understand what he'd told her. A sky-sled the size of a town. Fire, in the cold. No winds... or maybe he meant air. More people than he could express to her. Then falling. Whatever he truly meant, it must have been grim, if this was his reaction.

  Her mind returned to that day he first arrived at their camp, how she'd returned from her trip to gather news from town, only to find Suda had captured the world's strangest intruder. She looked up at him again, her eyes tracing the lines of his face, the way his brow furrowed as if bearing the weight of the sky itself. She remembered how he had looked then — ragged, disoriented, and utterly alone. His eyes... they had been wide with a kind of fear she couldn't quite place. Not fear of them, but of something he didn’t yet have the words to explain.

  Tia's ears twitched, and she reached out, gently brushing her claw against his arm. "Eli," she said as gently as she could muster, pulling him from his thoughts. "You're not falling anymore. You're here. With us."

  He blinked. She watched as his gaze pulled away from the faraway place in his mind and refocused on her. He paused for a few moments more, and she could practically see his mind working, pulling her words apart into meaning. "Yes," he finally said. "Here. With friends."

  Tia's feathers fluffed slightly in relief, and she gave him a gentle smile. But as they continued walking, she couldn't shake the unease that lingered in her feathers. She looked around for an anchor, something to steady her against the unfamiliar dread. Her eyes spotted Suda and Folly, pulling the cart. Oreo, flying in the sky, scouting for approaching raiders. Right now, there was only... Eli, she thought.

  Tentatively, worried she might disturb him again, she reached a wing out with two claws outstretched, and wrapped them around his wrist. She stepped in closer, leaning on him a little as they walked. The touch of a packmate — even a strange, surrogate one like him — soothed her in a way nothing else could.

  Eli's stride faltered, a brief hitch in his step as he glanced down at Tia's claws curled gently around his arm. She looked up at him as a cloud of worry suddenly shadowed her newfound sense of comfort; his brows were knit together, and she saw confusion written in his expression, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, as if trying to puzzle out the meaning behind her gesture.

  After a moment of hesitation, he awkwardly maneuvered his soft, flexile claws, brushing them over the feathers on the back of her palm, then curling carefully yet securely around her claws.

  Tia's heart gave a soft, unfamiliar flutter at the contact. She felt the warmth of his grip, the slight tremor of apprehension that wasn't rejection but something else — perhaps the fragility of trust being built, piece by piece. His palm was rougher than she'd expected, the calluses from foreign labors a stark contrast to the soft, smooth skin elsewhere on his body.

  She looked up again, studying his face. The confusion remained, etched into the lines around his mouth and the furrow of his brow, but it was no longer sharp. Instead, it softened into something quieter, more curious. His thumb moved slightly, brushing against the joint of her dewclaw in an absent, thoughtful motion.

  Tia let out a slow breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, her feathers smoothing as the tension eased from her shoulders. She pressed her feathers lightly against his arm, the delicate tips trembling faintly as she felt the passing cloud of anxiety leave.

  Eli looked at their joined hands, then met her eyes. His smile was small, hesitant, but this time it reached his eyes, if only just. "Not falling," he repeated softly.

  Tia nodded, her grip tightening slightly in silent agreement. They walked on, the tundra around them whispering with the wind, but for Tia, the only thing that mattered was the warmth of his hand in hers, and the fragile, precious thread that connected Eli with everyone else.

  ────────────────────────────────────────

  Later, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the flickering glow of their brazier cast their shadows long and thin against frozen ground, Eli busied himself with cooking everyone's dinner. The pack's voices faded into the background as he absently warmed the preserved jerky and cooked flatbreads over the heat, his mind still tumultuously distancing itself from the present.

  The memories of the attack on his ship faded in and out of focus — not vivid flashes, but fragmented shards, sharp and indistinct. The crash. The heat. The suffocating smoke curling around him like living tendrils. The desperate scramble to escape, slipping through his fingers like water. Yet when he tried to focus, the details blurred, refusing to solidify. Faces without names. Screams without voices. His own hands, bloodied, but he couldn't remember whose blood. Was it even his own? He didn't know if it was the trauma, the head injury, or something deeper gnawing at the edges of his mind.

  Now, with time to think and the initial shock faded, the raw distress and panic of those fractured memories had dulled into something different — frustration. It gnawed at him in a different way, a restless agitation that sat beneath his skin like an itch he couldn't scratch. It felt like there was something important hidden in the fog of his mind, hovering just out of reach, like a word on the tip of his tongue that refused to form.

  His pack was his anchor, grounding him in the present, their presence a constant reminder that he wasn't in danger anymore. But in that moment, that safety only gave his mind room to spiral inward, chasing fragments he couldn't catch. The harder he tried to force the memories into focus, the more they slipped away, swallowed by a gnawing haze. It was like standing at the edge of a dark abyss, knowing something vital was down there, just beyond the light.

  The sharp sting of pain snapped him out of his trance. He'd burned his side of his palm on the edge of the metal pan, the skin already pink and angry. He hissed through clenched teeth, pulling back instinctively.

  Before he could properly react, Tia was there. She didn't scold him, or press him with concerned questions like he half-expected. Instead, she reached out and gently tapped the tip of his nose with a single claw.

  A soft, almost questioning chirp escaped her throat. It wasn't mocking — just... gentle. Grounding.

  Eli blinked, startled. The absurdity of the gesture mixed with her wide, earnest eyes tugged a small, involuntary laugh from him — a dry, breathy sound, but genuine. She nodded, seemingly satisfied with the reaction, then took his burned hand carefully in her small claws, inspecting it with the solemn concentration of someone examining an ancient artifact.

  Tia rummaged briefly through one of the packs, eventually producing a large, hollowed-out scorpion shell filled with some kind of ointment as well as a clean plant-fiber rag. She gently rubbed it into his burn, easing the sting with its cool, soothing touch and a gentle, tingling relief. Once she was done, she began to wrap the rag like a bandage around his hand with earnest care, her crest rising and falling in what Eli had learned was her personal tell of quiet focus. When she finished, she gave his hand a gentle pat, as if sealing the bandage with approval.

  "Safe," she asserted.

  Eli swallowed the lump rising in his throat and nodded. "Yeah. Safe."

  ────────────────────────────────────────

  The night truly set over them after they finished their meal. By the time they were ready to sleep, the cold had already begun to creep into the edges of their small camp despite the fire's warmth. Eli settled against a bundle of leathers under a makeshift lean-to supported by the sled's sturdy frame. To his surprise, they didn't just settle near him — they settled on him.

  Oreo was the first, unabashedly flopping against his side with a contented trill. Folly followed, draping himself with casual nonchalance across Eli's legs like it was the most natural thing in the world. Tia nestled close to his other side, her small frame pressing against his ribs, and finally Suda, after a brief pause, tucked herself at his back, her warmth seeping through the layers of fur and fabric.

  "Cold," Suda muttered, as if that explained everything.

  His heart was too full, the ache of grief mingling with the warmth that had been slowly building between them since the moment he arrived. It wasn't just the heat of their bodies against his or the comforting weight of their bodies pressing near — it was something deeper, woven into the quiet, unspoken gestures that had carried him through the day. The way Oreo's tail flicked lazily, occasionally brushing against his arm. Tia taking his hand in hers, as if to anchor them among his thoughts. The subtle press of Folly's claws against the fabric of his pants as he pressed him to try something new. Even Suda's curt mutter, her stoic exterior softened by the simple act of choosing to stay close.

  For the first time in what felt like forever, Eli didn't have to brace himself against the sharp edges of loneliness. Their warmth seeped into the spaces where fear had lived; the grief was still there, tucked quietly beneath the surface, but it no longer felt like it was swallowing him whole. Instead, it sat alongside something new, fragile but steady.

  Belonging.

  It was strange how something so simple — a pile of tangled limbs, soft feathers, and the faint scent of smoke — could feel like home. Stranger still was how natural it felt, as if this closeness had been part of his life all along, quietly waiting for him to catch up. The rise and fall of their breaths, the warmth bleeding through layers of fur and fabric, the gentle weight of this strange, new alien family around him — it should've felt foreign, temporary, like something fragile enough to shatter with a single wrong thought. But it didn't. It felt easy. Right.

  The realization settled over him, softly as the furs around his shoulders. His own certainty surprised him — somewhere along the way, without even noticing, he'd stopped feeling like an outsider trying to survive.

  As he lay there, surrounded by the steady rhythm of his pack's breathing, he found his thoughts drifting — not to the wreckage, not to the shadows of memory, but to the present. To the warmth pressed against him. The quiet comfort of being there.

  And with that thought nestled in his mind, Eli drifted into sleep, cocooned in warmth, friendship, and the simple, silent promise that he wasn't alone.

  No end of chapter sketch today.