The punch connected solidly with her ribs, actually managing to push Mira back a few steps. A few of the people leaned in hopefully, whooping cheers for their friend. Mira grunted and stepped up to the punch’s owner-the walking stone known as Monk. She grabbed his retreating arm and twisted her body in a half circle, throwing the massive man almost across the entire tavern. The giant lay sprawled on the ground, struggling to lift his massive frame up.

“Don’t just stand there,” he croaked. “Get her!”

The cheers died, turning to hushed whispers. The motley crew did not look too pleased at the idea of attacking a Bloom, especially after witnessing how Monk fared. Mira didn’t fault them, they had probably been riled up by the boulder’s bragging. As sense reclaimed its hold, Monk’s supposed friends began retreating towards the double flap entrance. Mira shrugged, “Works for me.” She didn’t bother to stop them, they wouldn’t try something like this again. Monk, however, needed some more persuasion.

She glided over to the man, finding him having made his way to the wall. He was leaning on the wall, hand clutching at his side. It was a surprisingly pathetic look from the massive man. Mira was tempted to throw a kick his way- he definitely deserved it. However, cruelty left a worse taste in her mouth than alcohol. Monk wasn’t worth the mark on her conscience. She pushed the thought away with a roll of the shoulders and squatted down to eye level. “So I take it you aren’t going to order anything?”

Fear and anger made an interesting mixture on the man’s face. He seemed to debate the worth of his pride versus his life.

He wheezed out, “Think you broke my ribs.” Defiance crossed his face. “Witch.”

Mira rolled her eyes, obviously and clearly to let Monk know the insult didn’t bother her. People loved their colorful descriptions for Tuned- witch, cursed, demon, and so on. She had heard them all. Sometimes from her own father, until they had made their peace. It used to bother her, cutting deep each time. Only Tan, and his mother, treated her like an actual person-instead of like an unchained Sniffer. Tan’s mom, especially, had always made it a point to remind her that her abilities only meant what she wanted them to. Hearing that from another Tuned, especially one like her, had held Mira through a lot.

She looked over Monk, still wheezing haggardly, and sighed. It wasn’t worth it. Pulling him to his feet, she said, “Don’t forgot you’re the one who stomped in here screaming for blood.”

He coughed and winced. “That Chit, Tan. I have no business with you, woman.”

“You came in here screaming some idiocy about challenging my friend to a Rit. What did you expect? A finger in his direction and a pat on the back?”

The question proved too complex for the brick. He just glowered at her. “It’s my right. I can challenge anyone. ‘Specially heretics like him.”

Mira shifted suddenly, and shoved Monk to the wall. Given the man’s penchant for not wearing anything from the waste up, the act was more difficult than it needed to be. Mira would’ve preferred a vest or tunic to hold. In absence of those, she settled on pushing a hand on the man’s sternum. The man squirmed and kicked like a wrestling child. Mira tried her best to ignore it, but then a dull blow caught her calf. Annoyance flashed on her face.

“Stop squirming. I just want to talk.”

The man must’ve heard the fraying patience in her voice, as his kicking subsided.

She leaned close, voice a low growl. “It is your right to abuse our faith and kill Tan.” She paused, trying to turn her tone from feral to stern. “If you do, then you’ll have another Rit to fight-with me. We’ll see how quick you are to a death fight then. Understand?”

Once again, the battle between fear and pride was clear on Monk’s face. “Dun’ be so confident witch. You’re lucky I didn’t bring my pole.”

Mira sighed. Must the man insist on posturing even now. Flipping her scowl into a sickly sweet smile, she leaned in and pulled a stone baton from her belt. Monk shrunk back in terror, he clearly didn’t expect this. Then, flipping her palm up, Mira held the baton out to Monk. “Wanna bet?”

Monk reached out hesitantly. It wasn’t a bluff, but all the same Mira found herself hoping he wouldn’t ruin a baton to test something he knew. Blessedly, some semblance of sense had finally creeped into that thick rock he called a head. Monk withdrew his fingers, and began shuffling out. It seemed there was something wrong with the man’s right ankle. Not my problem.

“Fine. Just ‘member you won’t always be here.” He scanned his eyes over the empty tavern and chuckled at a joke only he heard. “Seems like that’ll be sooner rather than later.” It was with that the man limped out, smiling like he had won a crushing defeat.

Mira crashed down on a stool and rested her elbow on the table. Hopefully, that would keep the fool off Tan’s back. She prayed it would, as her threat was also no bluff. Mira really hoped it wouldn’t come to that, and not just because it would likely mean Tan was hurt. She hated Rits. Even their original use seemed questionable to her. There was a reason the lords in the Inner Ring had done away with the practice generations ago.

Mira cursed herself when Tan walked into the tavern a few hours later, surprisingly early. Mira had procrastinated cleaning up the tavern, expecting Tan to stroll in only a couple minutes before the guests did. Apparently, Mira’s scolding had made Tan feel guiltier than she intended. A few days after Gerald’s death, he had come in, looking only slightly less worn, and offered to start working at night to help pay off his tab. It was a sweet offer, though completely useless. Hands, wasn’t what she was lacking. Customers and ale on the other hand, would’ve been nice. Still, Mira missed spending time with her friend, and working at the tavern stopped him from drinking all her ale-which did end up saving her some money.

“What happened here?”

“Some fools came in and got a bit too drunk.”

“Hmm.” Tan surveyed the mess. “Still, new guests is good right?”

“Somehow, I doubt they’ll come back.”

Tan laughed. “Scared ‘em off, Mir’?”

Mira masked her unease with a laugh of her own. She didn’t like lying to Tan, but there was no use in bothering him with Monk’s idiocy. Quickly, she tried to veer him off the path. “You’re here early.”

Tan shrugged. “Trashing hasn’t been so good lately. I heard Chits and pretty much ran out.”

“Anything good?”

“Found some bits of metal. Pretty useless, but I think there’s a lord buying metal for a slice every stone. Almost have enough.”

Mira found it ridiculous that metal sold for such a measly price. Metal weapons were prized by keeps for their ability to harm Tuned. However, forges were far and few between, so only some lords even bothered to buy metal. She stood and replied, “Better than nothing. Going back tomorrow?”

Tan looked away, looking a little embarrassed. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something about that.”

Mira quirked an eyebrow, a welcoming half-smile on her face. “Out with it.”

“Well, it’s hard to go too deep without Chits all over me. I was wondering if you could take a day to come down with me.”

Mira groaned. Tan had brought her to the caverns once before. She enjoyed being underground, there was a connectedness she felt there, but it was not worth the disgusting slime. She had thrown away the shift and pants from last time, finding them unsalvageable. It always amazed her that Tan wore the same leather vest to the caverns each time. The thing reeked, to the point where she had banned it from her tavern.

“Tan. We’ve talked about this.” It made sense he would ask her. Animals seemed to avoid hunting Tuned, especially Blooms, if possible. Even plants only or trees only hunted them if pressed. There was even an old story about a crazy Bloom living in the caverns with Chits as his only friends. It did not do much for their already-tarnished reputation. The request was more troublesome than dangerous for Mira, but she still hesitated. This was not how she wanted to spend a day with poverty clawing past her flap.

“Please! It’s trashed out in the areas I’ve been. I’m sure we can find some amazing stuff deeper.”

Her smile soured to a pout. “You know people pay a lot for Tuned escorts.”

Even when asking for a favor, Tan couldn’t resist. Mira regretted the quip as soon as she said it, knowing the direction his response would take.

“I know things are rotted, but you don’t need to think about escorting yet.”

Mira could feel the blood rush to her face, her amber skin turning clay-like in color. She groaned and threw the nearest object- a stool, in this case- at him. He, at least, had the care to catch the stool, bending low with the weight. He set the stone seat down gently, straining noticeably. After which, he proceeded to promptly collapse over the thing and laugh maniacally, probably thinking he was the wittiest man in the world. Mira rolled her eyes- the joke wasn’t even that funny.

“That’s not what I meant.” She muttered, giving him her best death glare. “Fool.”

“I know,” he replied cheerfully. “But seriously, Mir. I need your help.”

Mira appraised the man, piercing his muddy violet eyes with her own emerald gaze. The laugh from before lingered, etching an echo on his lips. He still looked like the resident of a trash heap with his prickly, unkempt stubble and his stained cloth shirt. But he looked the part of a happy resident. The constant tension had eased, and his laugh had weight behind it. Tan was more affected than most by Gerald’s death, almost wanting to carry the blame on himself, but he was distracted from his grief more easily each day. Sometimes, the visage slipped back into that of raw hurt and pain, but those wounds would heal. Mira could take solace in this. If he wanted to distract himself into trashing, she would help him do it.

“Fine,” she groaned reluctantly. “But you owe me.”

“Two thirds of what we find is yours.”

She leaned back and whistled. “I would’ve taken half. Still would if that suits you better.”

“Don’t worry about it Mir. I’d prolly waste whatever I earn on your ale anyway.”

She let out a singular laugh in acknowledgement-he wasn’t wrong. Then she pursed her lips, thinking she had forgotten something.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “And you owe me a new shift, pants, and vest. I’m trashing whatever I wear.”

Tan scoffed. “Don’t be a child. You can wash it out. I do.”

Mira eyed him with mock disdain. “No Tan. You try to wash it out. There’s a difference.” She folded her arms in front of her chest, looking as stern as she could manage. “Non-negotiable.”

Tan threw up his arms, exasperated. “Fine, have it your way. But you’ll have to take it out of my cut. I’m…” He paused, trying to find the right words. “…avoiding the Tents for a while.”

Mira frowned at that. She wanted to protest, or let him know there wouldn’t be any trouble there. She wondered if he didn’t want to go to the place Gerald had died, or if he was worried about running into unfriendly faces. Maybe it was a bit of both. Mira knew she shouldn’t try to push him so quickly. He needed his own time to heal.

Her nature urged her to speed growth along- creating life and vibrancy. It didn’t just apply to plants, though most assumed it did. Her instincts screamed to take the man’s hand and lead him to the Tents, forcing him to confront whatever trauma he held. She wanted the old Tan back; like a farmer yearned to see his crops grow tall and hearty. The vestiges of regret and guilt hidden beneath each smile and laugh hurt to look at- a deep ache that spread from her stomach. But, that was her burden, her faults, and she wouldn’t push them onto Tan.

She had let silence creep across the room for just a bit too long, and Tan begun shifting uneasily. His eyes glanced over each part of the room except for her.

“Is that all right, Mir?”

Mira’s features softened, like arid ground being watered, and she let out the breath she was holding. “Yeah, Tan. I’ll live.” Then, in part to break the awkwardness that had settled, she added, “It’ll wbe a really nice vest though. Maybe one made of turren hide. Ooh! And a nice silk shift. Yeah that’ll work just fine.”

Tan chuckled. “Sure, good like finding that in the Tents.”

Tan fell to his backside with a grunt, his baton’s still clenched in his hand. He snarled and slid back as she leapt at where he was just a moment ago. Perspiration ran down his face in thick streams, the exertion and heat beating on him like hands on a drum. Mira eased up as he clambered to his feet, exhaling in relief that she hadn’t gone too far. She set her stance, legs slightly apart with the knees creased, and hands floating around her hips, ready to rise to attack or defend. Tan had risen a few strides in front of her, frozen in place. Past experience told her that he was looking for an opening.

Stillness set into them both, as the sun’s rays seemed to cut a swath between the two. Tan was standing firmly in the sunlight, the yellow-red orb shining violently against pale, cloudless skies. It was a day where the sun stood in stark contrast with the rest of the sky, the vivid colors made brighter by the lack of any surrounding features. Mira, thankfully, stood protected under the shadow cast by the tavern. She hoped the shadow would help mask the delight creeping across her face. Sparring was everything that she loved about fighting minus the guilt that came with violence. It let her stretch and flex her abilities. More than that, it was still a thrill to Mira, a novel way to break the daily routine.

She waited patiently. Tan was at the clear disadvantage here. His tricks and experience wilted in the face of her natural abilities. They used to spar in the past, until Mira got sick of his frustration at that fact. Now, as her blood rushed with intent and her face flushed, she wondered if that was a hasty decision.

Luckily, Tan had insisted on making sure she wasn’t too rusty for the caverns tomorrow. Mira personally thought he relished the challenge. He was like a Chit on the hunt with these things, chasing them until exhaustion.

Mira called out, playfully. “You going to stand there until it’s time for opening?”

He gave her a venomous impression of her own death glare and bent down, slyly cupping his hand around the soft soil. He yelled back, hoping to distract her from the motion. “Don’t get cocky!”

Tan charged and swung his hand filled with dirt at her. He had no problem playing a little dirty to win a spar session, and he was emboldened by Mira’s durability-she had learned this the hard way before. She raised a hand protectively over her eyes, waiting for the feeling of the dry soil hitting her hand. Nothing came. She lowered her hand, looking with confusion.

It was then that a dry cloud hit her face, particles settling in her startled open eyes. Mira recoiled and let out a noise that could only be described as a shriek. “Damn it!”

She couldn’t stop herself from bringing both hands to her face and rubbing at her tearing eyes. Tan didn’t accept this as a sign of defeat and collided with her. The full force of his momentum, concentrated on the point of his shoulder, met her sternum. Mira was pushed back several steps, each one a failing attempt to regain balance. She fell back in a perfect reflection of Tan’s earlier plummet.

She continued to rub her eyes, rasping greedily for the air Tan had knocked out. Her vision eased back to a watery blur. Tan’s outline eased over to her, strutting more confidently than a noble lady in a new dress. He squatted down with a grin splitting his face. “Guess this one is my win, Mir.”

She grunted in response. Then, on a whim, she grabbed one of his nearby ankles, and pulled-hard. Tan’s feet came out from under him and he landed flat on his back. Laughs interrupted the fool’s wheezing breath. Mira relented and said, “We can call it a draw.”

The coughing response came back, still punctuated by chuckles. “I never said that you couldn’t knock me on my ass. That claim was decidedly one-sided.”

Mira rolled her eyes. The fool had taken her silly boast as a challenge. She rose and offered the still-downed man a hand up. “Whatever, Tan. Have it your way.”

They made their way back inside, Tan practically glowing from his ‘victory’. She would let him have this, at least until he got too annoying about it. When they stepped inside, Tan was still advocating on the validity of dirt as a combat tool. Mira had the good nature to at least pretend to care. Inside sat Naran and Timbe, waiting expectantly.

“Took ya long enough. What kind of tavern doesn’t have anyone serving ale?”, Timbe said, his jovial face contradicting his words.

“A closed one.”, Mira retorted flatly. “Do you two even read the etching outside?”

“We’ve come around midday before.”, Naran challenged.

“Clearly you fools have taken my pity as an open invitation.” Mira scowled as she went back and began pulling out three cloudy mugs. She looked over each of the men with mock sternness as she began filling them. Her second to last barrel was dangerously empty, but three mugs wouldn’t be the difference. Besides, though she would never admit it aloud, Mira enjoyed the company and consistency they brought.

Tan stiffened when her false look of severity went to him and then rankled, indignant. “Don’t look at me. I work here.”

“So you don’t want this ale?”, Mira teased.

That was all the invitation Timbe needed. The man’s hands dropped from his own mug and greedily stretched towards Tan’s. Tan rushed to its defense, joining the two at the counter in a heartbeat. He was surprisingly quick when it came to defending his beloved, caressing the mug gallantly, protecting it from Timbe’s wicked reach. Mira half-expected him to begin crooning to the mug, but instead he just brought it to his lips and drank deeply.

“Hands off!”

Timbe threw up his hands in defeat and settled down with his own mug, as the entire group laughed at the display. Mira went back for some dandelion root, deciding to join the drinking, in a sense. As she came back, she saw the three idiots embroiled in a heated argument on whether an archcat could hunt a Chit. Mira rolled her eyes, and joined with her own response. Sure, they were idiots, but at least these were her idiots.