I wasn’t having a fun time. Ezra was nearly a foot shorter than me, so I had to stoop as we dragged our charge through the Salvaran forest. My back ached already. The sleeve of my beige shirt felt unpleasantly damp and cold against my flesh, stained red from the self-inflicted cut. I dutifully masked our tracks as we traveled. At first, the going had been slow as I painstakingly recreated the texture of the surrounding snow. But I quickly got the hang of the process, and we made good time now – as good as two mismatched-in-every-way travelers could while carrying an unconscious third, at any rate.

Ezra plied me with a question, their tone oddly amiable after the stormy start to our current partnership. I met the purple-eyed gaze, and again I felt unsettled at their appearance. A face typically has countless small features – pimples, freckles, moles, scars, angles, curves, and minor asymmetries. For example, I have a faint, thin scar just left of my nose, and my left eye is an ever-so-slightly lighter shade of blue than my right. I’m sure there are dozens more details that I just don’t care about. But Ezra… none of that. The tan face sported no identifying marks of any kind, almost as if it had been crafted rather than concocted in a mother’s womb.

I pulled my eyes away to keep from staring. “Right now, we’re just moving,” I answered shortly. I hesitated. “I’m… looking for somebody. I know she lives in Salvar. Don’t know where.”

I shifted the zealot’s weight to ease the burden on my back. It didn’t work; I grimaced. “I have a hunch that our Shining Example of Salvaran Faith may be able to help me find her.” I didn’t really want Ezra in my business, but they had a right to know why we were carrying this lump around until he woke up from his unsolicited nap.

When Ezra pressed me for my name, a grin split my face. “I’ve been called worse things than ‘Rebel.’” I knew little about my new acquaintance, but I had noticed a preference for manners and decorum. I was sure that my impolite, unhelpful response would rankle. I’d like to say that my snark was all in good fun, but I was also sore about having to lug Wheezy through the forest. I didn’t like somebody else tossing their mistakes onto my pile. I had blundered enough today on my own.

I was admittedly curious about my mysterious companion as well. But I knew I wasn’t likely to get answers if I didn’t give them. Eventually curiosity won out over petty resentment, and I sighed. It had been an entertaining joke while it lasted.

“My name is Atzar,” I said. “Your turn. I found you in the Salvaran backwoods, alone. What’s your story?” It was as good a place as any to start.