Blom’s bad hip pulsed and flared with the sudden cold. Rain was comin’ too which gave him a quiet combo of pained and pleased. He missed the days when he could stroll all casual-like into a pub or a forest or a lover’s bed and pay no physical cost for it. Those were the days, the days of his youth. He was of an age where he started thinkin’ such thoughts. Try as you might, tryna prolong that sorta life well past when ya should typically resulted in an early end.

Rain lashed down suddenly, tearing like a transparent curtain through the streets of Gilba Gilba and splattering back. The roar was a soothing sound, reminded him of his days in the South O’ Things when he was up against the weather. In the Island Realm these sorta days were trouble. In the Outland Villages, they were trouble of a different sort. Got ya thinkin’ about the past in ways maybe you shouldn’t.

Blom thought of Numariareaana and her long thick hair, the way she skipped through the shallow tide pools in a sorta gleeful way and splashed the water needlessly onto the spots around her. Numeriaianea hailed from the Island Realm and had no wish to leave it. She liked the Heats of the region. Blom had met her on his first week in the south o’ things. Felt like a different life or a dream o’ some sort.

The brutal weather made Blom remember. He remembered Allllllley and the way she looked at him aslant like he was the funniest hunter in the region. Blom never thought he was but he liked that she thought he was and so therefore he was, that’s the facts. He took her to some o’ his most preferred places in the south o’ things, havin’ lived there mayhap two seasons at this point and knowin’ a thing or two about where to spend your days with such a lass as Alllllllley. He was a tall, flashy man back then, interested in the fashions o’ the day and wearin’ em with the confidence of a skilled man. Alllllley loved keepin’ things new and when she offered the Wayward Spirits to him Blom had no moral compunction about accepting. Blom thought of that night often as Allllllley went from short spritely red-haired Islander to a cloud of red mist with waves of sound that defied sensation. Their moments stretched to dockets and stretched to days and then on to farthangs. Allllllley left the Island Realm of a sudden and Blom had no means of findin’ her.

Blom rocked back in his rockin’ seater and warmed his hands on the mug that contained his Tasty Cider. He remembered Karalemiman, with all her contradictions and frustrating attractions. She wrote him long winding letters of crafted lines and innocent promises, promises that seemed real until he expected her to fill ‘em. He was deep in the world of the Wayward Spirits, teetering on the edge of obsession and peepin’ into the dark realms they liked to guard. He showed them to Karallalemeian and she went over too far and was lost to ‘em.

The front door of the Ragged Maiden squeaked open and there stood Jumi Rubigen, wet as the day he was dumped in the river for chuckin’ rocks. “Aye Blom. Just an ale if it please ya.”