SECOND BOOK OF THE CHRONICLES OF FANTASILIA SERIES
𝘈𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘦. 𝘈 𝘴𝘪𝘦𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘛𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘚𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘴. 𝘈 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘫𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.
Xanthiene Vivenca, af...
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According to Nyxis, manwari poop was pink.
Xanthy laughed at his face back then, claiming any normal bird couldn't have such colorful excrement. As they took off from Depandes, the birds started squawking. It continued until they were well above Elshire and its vast fields of multicolored canopies. Then, the birds crowed their loudest and a wet, splashy sound enveloped the sled. No one spoke. No one even batted an eyelash.
A bird just pooped while flying. Was there anybody who cared about the people below? Xanthy leaned half of her body out of the sled and true enough, she saw a pink goop dripping from the birds' legs.
Do these birds always do stuff like this together? Were they best friends?
Also, Nyxis said that manwari's poop was best for curing abdominal cramps.
Xanthy cleared her throat at his voice running through her head, reciting those useless facts. Gods. She's going crazy.
She shook her head, trying to imitate how nonchalant her friends were about this. Ravalee had her eyes closed, her legs crossed, and her hair tied up in a hurried bun. She wore a simple tunic and had discarded her skirt for trousers. It's a long trip, the brownie had said when Xanthy looked at her strangely before they took off. A thick, burgundy cloak hugged her shoulders nicely.
June picked at his bandaged hand, cursing its tightness. Xanthy had to slap his hand several times before he dislodged something Nyxis worked hard at doing. Reeca sat on the sled's edge with her legs stretched out and propped against a bench where she should have been sat. Considering her bandaged wings, Xanthy told her the first time to play it safe but the varichria shook her off.
Cyrdel sat across Xanthy, beside Ravalee. His hair hung in a loose mop on his head, disheveled and flecked with dust, ash, and bits of clay. Dirt was smeared across his cheeks in unflattering splatters. Dark circles ringed his eyes. In just a day, it seemed like he had aged five years.
"You should stay," Xanthy had said to him before they left Depandes. "You can help your people here."
The prince had shaken his head. "I must go. This is all my fault."
Xanthy shrugged. Technically, it was his fault but no one was blaming him (except his father, maybe, who currently laid in a cot among feverish brownies). Chance happens to them all.
When Cyrdel insisted on coming, of course, that meant Ravalee was, too. They're like the birds that were now driving their sled except that they didn't have pink excrement. Probably.
Xanthy crossed her arms and leaned against the sled's rim. She shouldn't even be complaining. She needed more people she could rely on in this crazy journey. Besides, these people looked like they knew the island inside out more than Xanthy did.
A sigh escaped her lips as she gazed upon the carpet of canopies floating over Diven and Flaron. Up ahead, the foggy mountains of Carleon formed the silhouette. What new experiences awaited her at Drodham?
