“Hungover?” Tallo asked smugly when the group reconvened in the morning. Kimba’s skin was sucked dry of her usual glow, her eyes dull and shoulders slumped forward.

“The fuck you care for?” Although the words were aggressive, her tone wasn’t. Tallo let her words go with a satisfied “hm!” It was a familiar taunt, not unlike the one my Weft said to me when they claimed to know better. I didn’t like the feeling it brought out.

That seemed to be the end of their conversation for quite a while, though. The troupe ate in silence, gathered their horses, and began to walk out of the bustling city of Grulas. Kimba, although walking slower than usual, still had her head on a swivel. Tallo tried to ignore this, but he kept looking where she did, trying to see whatever had her on edge.

“What’s going on?” Fulmosk asked quietly when he finally seemed to notice their morning meandering wasn’t quite normal.

“Nina, Rin,” Kimba called sharply after about a mile of walking the horses. “Take the front.” The streets got a little more crowded as the morning continued. The cobblestone less even, the buildings closer together.

This didn’t feel like a natural city to me. The front seemed different from the back. In one entire building, I could see the end of a thread and start of another. Sloppy work. Rushed. An excitement buzzed in the air, and it didn’t come from me. Did the passersby see the fringes of the threads, the way the dye didn’t take in some and took too much in others?

But another sudden bark from Kimba gave me a little more clarity.

“Tallo, how about you take off your cloak and pack it away?” Her attempt to sound casual didn’t work.

“Why?”

“Just do as I say.” As she said this, I looked around to the crowd. Blurred faces sharpened, and their gazes lingered mostly on Tallo. When he finally noticed, he was quick to shrug off the cloak and throw it over the horse he led. His tunic, though, of a paler blue with dark blue embroidery around the seams, didn’t do much to stop the stares.

Kimba mumbled to herself. As she slowed, Rin and Nina seemed to sense this, and corralled Fulmosk and Tallo toward her.

“Split up. We’re drawing too much attention. Rin, scout ahead and we will see you at the city gates. Here.” Kimba gestured to Tallo’s hand, then to Rin to indicate for her to take both of their horses. “Nina, take Fulmosk to the south edge and then go to the gates. Tallo and I are going shopping.” While Rin took off without another word, Fulmosk hesitated.

“Why are you going shopping? We just—”

“Kid,” Nina said through a sigh, “I’ll explain when we look a lot less like what we are.” This seemed to be explanation enough, though, as the redhead nodded to Tallo and pulled his black steed to branch off to a side street. I didn’t initially notice it, squished between two fruit vendors. Now that I looked at it, it seemed like an afterthought—more sloppy planning. What was my Weft planning? Or rather, not planning? Stories had a tendency to get away from me and create themselves when I made the cartoon. Is this what happened to my Weft, without me there to show them how to fix it?

“Buying me terrible clothes?” Tallo guessed with a flat tone. Kimba almost looked like she wanted to smile, but decided not to answer, and instead waved him back the way they came. Tallo attempted to cover the designs on his tunic by crossing his arms, but no matter how much he tried to fold in on himself, he didn’t look smaller. He kept his nose too high, looked around too comfortably, and didn’t cower behind his protection detail. All of this was highly noticeable by the people of Grulas, for whatever reason.

Kimba led him through a scrappy door under a sign with a needle and thread. And, as expected, the young man behind the counter jumped to attention.

“Yes! Can I help you?” called the storekeep as he took stock of Tallo. Kimba grit her teeth. Those prying, blue eyes were looking for the coin that afforded his fine clothes, no doubt.

“Hey! What’s the largest traveling cloak you’ve got?” she asked with a wide smile. Tallo frowned at her. It took until she dug into her cloak pocket and loudly clinked her coins together before the owner looked her way.

“Oh! Um, what size?” He blinked, as if coming out of a dream, and began to look at the hangers of various previously worn articles of clothing. Brown, bland, obviously mended. Perfect for looking unimportant.

“I said the largest.”

“Ah. Um, let me see what I have in the back.” The storekeep gave a flash of a smile, then tapped his dirty fingernails on his counter in an odd pattern before he made his way to the back door of his shop. Kimba grumbled.

“What’s going on?” Tallo asked quietly. He regarded her expression, examining the fold between her brows, the way she pursed her lips. Rather than the smug disdain he thought he should feel, I could sense his excitement, his curiosity. He finally got to see what four hundred gold got him…but hungover.

“You stick out like a noble at a farmer’s market, and we’re in a town far from the capitol and close to the border. What does that say to you?” She didn’t take her eyes off the door, though.

Tallo considered her words. “Lots of guards,” he started slowly. Now she flicked her eyes to his, impressed.

“Not wrong. Not where I was going, but not wrong. What else attracts a lot of guards?”

“Yes, back here!” called the shopkeep as he opened the door. “Let’s see if it’s the size you’re looking for!”

Tallo frowned at Kimba, shrugging. “Cutthroats, I guess. But—” His guess was interrupted by the back door slamming shut.

“Help!” he cried, muffled. Kimba sighed and glanced behind them.

“Yes, Tallo,” she said as she started toward the door with her dagger out, “cutthroats.”