As the sun came out from behind gray-white clouds, drying the rain and exaggerating shadows, Takan smiled. The rain was over, thank God, and he could fly again, if needed be. It was true he could fly in the rain, but it was always such a hassle, drying off your wings, getting waterlogged, having to preen. But the sun? The sun was the killer of water-soaked worries. Takan could breathe easy.

If only he could, though. Being alone on the top of the Wall (important with its Capital Letter, of course) always gave him the jitters. It wasn’t that he’d been attacked in the past, just that some sort of creeping dread always seemed to grab him by the ankles and yank downwards, like the weight of carrying someone when you’re flying—that feeling of falling, that muscle-pumping adrenalin rush getting off the ground—and he could never get over it. It wasn’t likely that animals were going to attack, but it could happen. It had happened in the past. No one could ever rule it out, and birds could fly over the wall. But Takan had his bow, and God knew he had his bowfingers ready. If anything, he was a bit too eager, his fingertips running up and down the waxy bowstring, ready to shoot. And the spears—he had the spears too. So he was safe.

But still, he felt naked on top of the tower. Everyone in the city could see him silhouetted against the half-clouded sky, pressed flat against the light like a doll made of paper. And if he was standing in the wrong spot at the wrong time, a wind could push him off, and it was possible he could drop his bow. It was an inconvenience anyhow, and the thought was humiliating. So he made sure to stand in the non-dilapidated areas when the wind picked up, just in case.

And he was always imagining things—animals and people, people being attacked by animals. Night job was the worst, because half the time it was shadows, and half the time it was actually animals, harmless bugs and bats and tree branches. Spooky, in the best of circumstances. Downright terrifying during Soul Chase’s Eve, when the wildest animals were said to come out. Thank God he’d never had to stand watch then!

And now there were shadows, or perhaps just his imagination, on the dirt—on the dead grass, between the trees. No, not shadows, plural. Shadow. One shadow. And it wasn’t just a shadow—like all good shadows, it was a shadow of something.

It was a shadow of a person. Takan leapt to a lower portion of the wall to greet them. The shadow-maker’s future all depended on what they were. Demon, they’d get shot at. Human, they’d be let in immediately. Angel (though this wasn’t likely, as Takan saw no wings), well then, they’d be interrogated.

As she came into sight—for it was a she, most definitely—Takan could see that she was a human, holding… something. Sometihng he couldn’t pick out, something dark.

“Hallo!” Takan called down. “Who goes there?” Humans were pitied and given hospitality, but what if she was carrying something dangerous?

“My name is Chaza. This is Tentague.”

Such strange names! And the second one—the long one—who? Who was he?

“Who is that? Where?” Takan was confused.

Then she rearranged the thing in her arms, holding it now in her hands. It dangled oddly, all uneven. Then it—

Meowed.

“Lord, it’s a cat!” Takan exclaimed, stepping backwards as a reflex. “No. You cannot come in!”

“But is this Shlivsa?”

“Not to animal demons!”

“He’s no demon. Is it or not?”

“That’s what most call it, yes. But it’s no safe haven for the cat!”

“But I heard that the city of Shlivsa offers safe haven to any humans!”

“Humans. But…” He looked at her. Her hair was long and braided, drenched. The bit of it that wasn’t tied up was plastered to her forehead by the old rain. He couldn’t tell what color it was, because the water had made it darker—it looked half blonde and half brown and partly gold. Multicolored hair—something to be envious of, especially for Takan, whose one-note black hair was not his most striking feature. No, that reward could be given to his green eyes, he knew. Mirrors were abundant in Shlivsa, and Takan and mirrors were not enemies.

“But I am a human.” Her voice brought him back. “Humans get safe haven. At least until the sky’s cleared up. It’s going to rain again!” She sneezed. It sounded fake, but Takan could never tell at things like that. “Just let us in! We’re getting sick.”

It was all up to Takan. He didn’t know what to do. The human looked so pathetic, drenched and shivering and sneezing loudly, and the cat was nothing but a shivering lump in her hands. “Okay, you can come in. But!” He held up his hand to stop her. “But the cat cannot leave the room I put you in.”

“Where’s the gate?”

Takan sighed. “There isn’t one. Now let me get this done before the rain starts up again.” He bit his lip. In all reality he hadn’t realized that the rain was coming back till the human girl—Chaza? –reminded him. So perhaps she was realistic. Down to earth. Whatever the phrase was!

“Don’t move,” he told her. “And if you value the animal’s life, don’t drop him either. I’ll make this quick, and it’s quicker if you don’t talk.”

Already she was following his instructions, standing firmly, silent except for a sneeze, clutching the cat to her chest desperately. Takan jumped off and guided himself so he was beside her. He wrapped one arm around her waist and the other around her shoulders, as he’d been taught, and off they flew. This was terribly unromantic, he had time to think. All of them drenched, the cat literally dripping wet, his hair tangling and flying in his face (he knew he needed a trim!), his wings pumping hard as they could. Not to mention the shivering girl. Well, maybe she’d be indebted to him afterwards. He had probably saved her life, after all!

He decided on the spur of the moment to keep her secret. If people knew about the cat then he could get in trouble. He steered towards the fourth castle, one of the outer towers. No one ever went there, and he could be safe. Besides, no one used towers three through eight anyhow. There was no risk, none at all.

He flew through the huge window (designed for practical angel usage!) and dropped her to the floor. She landed and tottered forwards. There was a bed and a little closet—he’d dropped her in one of the human-accessible rooms, which was lucky—and she flopped down face first onto the bed’s surface. The cat, who’d fallen to the floor, jumped up onto the bed after her.

Takan pulled the shades over the window, signifying that someone was in the room. (People may think it was just another angel, sleeping off a hangover, or one of the human guests. They wouldn’t bother to look.) Then he leapt off the windowsill and enjoyed his favorite part of flying—that rush you get when you’re just opening your wings, when you freefall and see the world falling up, away from you, when you reach out to catch it and you fall, and you open your wings. Takan’s world was sparkling. He knew that those rogue sparkly lights were drying raindrops, or perhaps falling ones, but he didn’t care. He allowed himself to forget about the human girl and soar.