Chapter 26: The First Normal Day
The town of Oakhaven was a low-slung collection of clay-and-timber houses nestled against the southern foothills. It was not a place of significance. It had no walls, no garrison, and no history worth recording in a sect’s annals.
For Yul, it was a test of endurance more grueling than the winter blizzard.
He spent his third day sitting on a crate near the town square, watching. The town was celebrating the Festival of the First Harvest. It was an event of staggering inefficiency. People spent hours arranging paper lanterns that would simply burn out by midnight. They wasted precious calories dancing in circles to the sound of rhythmic drumbeats. They shared plates of food with strangers, seemingly unconcerned with the calorie-to-effort ratio of the preparation.
He watched a family—a father, a mother, and two small children—sitting on a bench, eating sticky rice cakes. They were laughing. The father was trying to juggle three stones and failing, dropping them into the dirt, causing his children to shriek with delight.
Yul’s mind moved through the scene like a serrated blade. Father: poor coordination, likely due to fatigue from manual labor. Mother: high anxiety, eyes scanning the crowd to ensure the children don't wander. Children: high-energy, zero situational awareness, prime targets for abduction or accidents.
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It was a nightmare of vulnerability.
"You're making them nervous, you know," a voice said.
Yul didn't blink. He hadn't noticed the man sitting on the crate next to him—a local woodcarver with hands calloused and stained with walnut oil.
"Why?" Yul asked.
"Because you've been sitting there for three hours without blinking, staring at that family like you're deciding which one to gut," the carver said, though he didn't sound afraid. He just sounded tired. "People here like to pretend they're safe. You’re reminding them they aren't."
Yul looked at the man. "They are not safe. They are sitting in an open square. A man with a bow on the balcony across the street could eliminate all four of them in six seconds."
The carver went silent, his smile fading. He looked at the balcony, then back at Yul with a pitying expression. He stood up, reached into his tunic, and pulled out a small, warm steamed bun. He handed it to Yul.
Yul took it, frowning. "Why?"
"Because you haven't touched your rations since yesterday," the man said, walking away. "You looked hungry."
Yul held the bun. It was still warm from the steamer. He watched the man walk toward the family.
"That is not an answer," Yul whispered to the empty air.