A wandering caravan has attracted a small friend that ensures that even the worst days still brings at least one smile. A small group of Cykets had decided to make their homes in the wagons and travel with the merchants.
https://peakd.com/fiction/@internutter/challenge-04153-k135-to-breathe-clouds-of-joy -- Anon Guest
[AN: For those who don't want to look into the archives, a Cyket is a tiny gryphon-like creature that feature parts of a cygnet (baby swan) and a small monkey. The down from their shed fluff creates joy in other creatures]
Life on the open road is sold as the ultimate freedom. It's not as glamorous as the adventure books like to say it is. There's constant suspicion from landed folk, traveling in the rain, caravan drama, and of course, long stretches of stultifying boredom. There's hygiene issues, people "creatively borrowing" from others, affairs of lust, people not talking to others, waifs and strays joining with dreams of adventure and then learning about the muck.
Only the truly determined stayed beyond the next village. Well. The determined and the desperate.
Generally, the traveling wagon trains were full of traders, entertainers, and weirdos who didn't fit anywhere else. So it was no surprise that one of this train's tagalongs was a singing Wudzgaad.
Ze was on the larger end of "middling-sized", almost twice the size of the regular, middling-sized folk. Ze could match the pace of the wagons afoot, with ease, and could play a cello like others might play a violin. But like most Wudzgaad, ze did not have much in the way of possessions.
Ze did have antlers, though. Bedecked with flowering vines that always seemed to be moving. Even when Ze wasn't. Even when there was no breeze to stir the leaves and petals.
The caravan called hir 'Woody' since Wudzgaad didn't often have names, and welcomed hir in their usual way.
"You can travel with us," allowed the wagon-king. "Don't make trouble and help where it's asked, you'll get along fine. You can start by making sure there's enough for dinner."
Woody said, "I'm safely omnivorous," and resumed hir wordless singing, More of the plant life doing the work of hir clothing bloomed and fruited. The harvest, that night, added to the camp's stew kettle.
The weirdest thing, in this traveling train of freaks and weirdos, was that the frictions and frustrations of normal life just... faded away. Grumpiness evaporated. Misery dissolved. Arguments fizzled and snuffed. People were usually tetchy by camp-time, but this time? Nary a grumble.
True, some still patted their rumps back to life as they disembarked, but they weren't irritable about it. Everyone was weirdly in a good mood. Which was abnormal for the evening. People were even polite about where they were setting up for the night.
It wasn't just the Wudzgaad song, 'king' Albrecht was certain. So he took his bowl of stew seated on the same log as the living mountain of a Faekindred. "What are you doing and what happens when it wears off?"
Wudzgaad had disturbingly unusual teeth. "Technically, I am doing nothing. It's my little friends." A gigantic paw of a hand delved into the leaves on hir antlers, and brought out a truly tiny creature. Even tinier on the palm-pad of hir paw. A Cyket. "Careful. They're delicate."
Albrecht prided himself on being strong in multiple ways, and sometimes bragged that he hadn't shed a tear since he was ten. Yet he felt his eyes watering at the sight of a small miracle yawning and stretching in the bowl of an immense palm. "People would kill just to see one," he breathed, tentatively letting the Cyket sniff his outstretched finger.
Gods. It was so soft.
"I will defend you and your little friends to the death," he vowed.
Another unnerving smile from Woody as ze put the creature back into hir canopy. "I knew you were good people. And in answer to your question, nothing bad will happen if I have to leave. Things will return to... normal."
Albrecht's worry about that return was a minor niggle in the back of his mind. He would deal with that if it came to that. Not before. He did say, "Thank you," before returning to his share of stew.
[Photo by Timon Wanner on Unsplash]
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