Moon

Partnered with Scorpius.

***

To the thief in the night—

After I caught your deft hands rifling through my gear, you told me the world is cold. I hear many words in a day, thief, but yours have stuck in my teeth. I've been chewing on them since we parted.

Some days, I feel a chill carried across the sea from your homeland. It reminds me of the day I met my dear familiar, Pawking—I found him, bruised and broken-winged, in the wake of a blizzard that ruined half our month's harvest. In spite of our desperation and our toil to recoup our losses, we chose to nurse the pup back to health. And you ought to have seen how much of a rascal he was back then! At the very end of my wit with him, he ran off, a farming hoe in his jaws like a stick in a game of fetch. Now, and I am not too proud to admit it, I very nearly let him run off, knowing his recovery was far from over and his antics would surely lead him to his end. I had no obligation to this infernal pup, no duty—yet I followed him. At the end of his tracks, I found him running circles around the members of a neighboring clan. One of them held the hoe in their hands. All were laughing at Pawking's ridiculous show. With my apology for bothering them, I mentioned my urgency to return to the mills, and so with Pawking running on the ground below, they followed us home to help. In the garden shed after the day's work was done, they gathered a bed of hay for Pawking, and that is where he sleeps still.

The world is often cold. This is why we light fires, thief. This is why we till the fields and keep the storehouse stocked. This is why we weave blankets and huddle beneath them together.

Mages are pragmatists, and I take no umbrage with the ways of the thief. A deft hand is but a tool, to be wielded with careful consideration. There are times when theft is necessary to set broader plans into motion, things that must be purloined from safe clutches in order to reach their true purposes, as the wind steals the blossoms of the dandelions so that they may grow on their own. This is why I write to you now. You're a glint of moonlight on the clouds, thief, a true sight to behold. If you desire, you will find a home in our clan. You will find us in the shade of our mills, or under the stars. You may find a greater purpose for those deft hands when they aren't so occupied with securing your next meal.

Safe travels,
Orion of Respite