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The leaf from the plant that Martin only knew as nataan'snanbo landed on the surface of the otherwise still water with a serene ripple. “Uhh, Martin? Why are you just staring off into space?" Namo peered over to try and meet his gaze, then tried following his eyes to follow his thousand-meter stare, to no avail.

Martin gave his head a small shake. “Don't worry about it. Just… thinking. So: you said there's a chance she was traveling to Fordham? And that's where you're heading, too?"

“Shore am!" Namo replied cheerfully in her playful accent, as if she had forgotten the dread she had been experiencing a moment ago. She had finished her lunch and was just sitting across from Martin, long legs crossed in front of her. Martin stood up and dusted his pants off.

A lead had just fallen into his lap. After many months on the road, scrounging up whatever he could find with no real success, now was his chance to get justice for all the calamity that had befallen him two years ago. He began to formulate a plan in his mind. He needed to get more information—Taverns were a good source. Preferably somewhere accessible, not super fancy, a place where she would blend in. “Shall we get going then? Are you done eating your leaves?"

“Yep! Ready when you are."

With a nod of agreement, Martin signaled for Namo to lead the two of them down the hill, back to the road. The man gave the place a parting glance to try and capture a long-lasting mental image. He wanted to remember the place where the trail began again.

The pair wandered down the long road between Darcyville and Fordham, with Namo singing one of her marches most of the way. Martin had mostly managed to tune her out and instead paid attention to the changing scenery and elevation. They had climbed a slight hill over the past couple hours of travel, and just with the subtle but consistent change in elevation Martin had noticed the oaks and dogwood give way to more pine, fir, what he thought may have been aspen, as well as some entirely alien trees that he didn't recognize: trees with red needles, somewhat similar to a deciduous conifer, but bushier than a larch. In the distance, through the thinner sections of the forest, He could see a mesa jutting out of the earth like a sunken sailing vessel dashed upon the shore of an ocean that had evaporated eons prior. He wondered if the mesa would be snow-capped during the winter; Fordham itself may have been high enough to receive somewhat regular snow. As he entertained himself by considering the scenery, the rogue swore that he heard Namo chewing every now and then, but she hadn't pulled anything out of her pack, so he assumed that it must have been her grinding her teeth...or something.

After about an hour of relative peace and quiet, Namo broke the silence. “Soooo…Martin? What's your favorite plant?"

Martin frowned skeptically. “What, we're just going to make smalltalk now?"

“Smalltalk? Ya mean, like, whispering?" Namo tilted her head to the side a bit, as if to indicate she hadn't heard the word before.

“No, like, pointless conversation. That's what smalltalk means."

“A person's favorite plant is not a pointless conversation!" She exclaimed, offended but undeterred. “You can learn a lot about people by what kind of plants they like."

Martin rolled his eyes. “That sounds like a load of crap."

Namo either ignored him or wasn't paying attention in the first place. “For instance, my favorite plant is… umm… Well, I don't know the name of it in English, but in Kepmuun it's mutokanto. It's a little shrub with lots of little yellow flowers, waxy stems, and leaves that have cute little fuzzy ridges on 'em! When the plant fruits it makes clusters of tasty berries. Well actually, the berries are bitter, but some people like that, don'tcha know? Anyways, when they're boiled and mashed into a paste they have super good… um… things about 'em that help with aches and pains and stuff. I can't remember the big word for it in English. They also make for a nice brewed drink if you like bitter flavors, like I do! But the crazy thing is, there's another plant that looks really similar but this one's toxic! If you eat the berries your tummy will get major upset and if you eat too many you could even die. So you have to be careful when you go out picking 'em. If ya didn't know, one of the ways…"

Shit, once she gets going it's like she can't stop. Martin mustered a strong attempt to tune her out. The sun, white-hot when it bore down on them high in the sky, had begun to sink lower on the horizon, casting a pale yellow glow over the wooded road. Through sporadic breaks in the trees on the right side of the road, Martin could see the sun's path approaching a lone mesa jutting from the earth like a giant anthill. The left side of the road, by contrast, was too thickly wooded for him to see what lie beyond the hill that sloped upward from the road.

He considered that, if his understanding of the local landmarks was accurate and they continued at their current pace, they might make it into Fordham shortly after dark. That would be welcome; he had eaten only a bowl of quick oats and half a can of mystery meat, and was looking forward to some warm tavern food and, arguably more importantly, a drink to take the edge off the day.

“…and then one of my brothers can't use it because he developed an allergic reaction. Swelled right up like a tata'sno'on doing its matin' dance! Don'tcha think it's so interesting how different people have different reactions to the same plant?" When Martin didn't answer, she grew indignant, walking in front of him and turning around, but continuing to walk backward down the trail. “Hey! Are ya even listenin' to me?"

Martin made eye contact with the scorned faun woman. Her face was scrunched up in a rather cute scowl, and Martin had to repress a smirk with how difficult it was to take her seriously in that moment. “Oh, yeah, definitely. Some plants are medicinal and others are poisonous. Fascinating." He stepped past Namo, continuing on the path.

Namo rolled her eyes but is otherwise undeterred. “Well, now you know about my favorite plant, even though it's more like three plants, but now it's your turn. So! What's your favorite plant, Martin?"

There's really no way out of this, is there? Martin thought to himself. Martin considered for only a moment, but the decision wasn't hard: beer and whiskey were beautiful, wonderful products resulting from plants, after all. “I'd probably say either corn or wheat."

The frustration upon Namo's face all but evaporated and was replaced by careful deliberation. “Hmm… I s'pose it makes sense that a monuunkep would favor a monuunkep plant…" She placed a four-fingered hand on her chin, deep in thought.

“What's that supposed to mean?" Martin said, not sure if he was just insulted or not.

She ignored him again, and her look of scrutiny was replaced, as quickly as it had appeared, with one of elation. “Oooh! I see, I see! I think that you're a very simple person, in the sense that ya don't like unnecessary frills or style that isn't important to function. You also have an eye for solvin' problems in ways that are practical and useful in lotsa situations. Even though ya might not seem so at first glance, you're a sturdy companion to the people ya trust and tough enough to survive even the harshest conditions. Wow, I knew it was good idea to—"

As she expounded on his perceived virtues based solely on a half-joke answer to a stupid question, Martin resigned himself to a long next few hours.

The pair began to see signs of civilization that heralded their imminent approach of Fordham. The signs were relatively subtle at first: they began to pass people more frequently on the road, though most were traveling on horseback, and they could see side paths begin to branch off of the main road more frequently, some of which with simple farmhouses visible at the end of their respective side roads.

As the sun sank lower and the chatty faun and the taciturn human grew closer to the town, the unpaved path abruptly shifted to a well-maintained cobblestone road, complete with sidewalk. As Namo alternated between singing and talking at Martin, he could hear the distant sound of the commotion characteristic of a large town. The forest had thinned considerably, and the forest litter of needles and leaves along the side of the road gave way to grassland and, eventually, lawns in front of amateur-constructed but nevertheless impressive log cabins, some of which were multi-story. Gas lanterns had already been lit for the evening, as the sun had almost disappeared below the horizon of the mesa to the west. The smell of pine and cedar sawdust thickened in the air, and were it not late in the day, the hapless thief could imagine hearing the activity associated with sawmills that produced both the log cabins he saw as well as the sawdust he smelled. The man had not visited Fordham before, but knew enough of the area to know what to expect: the logging town was divided into an affluent northern district and a more impoverished, literal “skid row" central district, which still harbored much of the remaining sawmill and lumber industry that had made Fordham one of the largest human settlements on the continent of Sinoe, on which he had lived his entire life. Because they were approaching from the north, the forest thinned as the pair witnessed, essentially, the better side of what Fordham had to offer: in addition to the well-lit, paved roads and log estates, they began to pass brick masonry construction, some of which were adorned with elaborate wood-paneled façades and carefully manicured front gardens. The activity on the street was quieter than he anticipated based on the ambient noise, but still noticed a mixture of travelers of varied socioeconomic standing as well as the local, well-dressed crowd, likely on their way to attending soirées, wine-tastings, or whatever things rich city-folk did. As was typical for most human settlements, there was not a faun in sight, and Martin could swear that he noticed Namo catch some curious glances, and occasionally stares, from a few of the townsfolk as they passed.

It was while Martin was thinking about how Namo was likely perceived by the humans they were encountering as a novelty that he realized that she had grown silent. He was thankful for the reprieve from her incessant chatter, but as they approached a market square, which was closed for the evening but nevertheless had people of all sorts milling about, it was too soon for him to celebrate. “So, um, this is my first time visiting a human settlement." It was clear from her hushed tone of voice, in stark contrast to her loquaciousness earlier, that she was nervous about the ordeal. “What are humans in big towns like?"

Martin felt a modicum of sympathy for the faun. “The same as anyone else really, but also different in some regard depending on where you are. For instance," he said, gesturing to the prevalence of local wood products and structures, “Fordham is an old logging town. There are lots of rough-and-ready logger types here, but also quite a few wealthy, snobbish folk here, depending on which part of town you're in. That's the old money and the people who own the mills." Martin realized he was vastly over-generalizing the character of the people of the town, but it served to explain his point. “But other than that I'm sure it's a place just like any other: rich, poor, everything in between."

“Well, that's good to know. Still, I just don't wanna stand out if I don't have to." She scratched her arm.

“I hate to break it to you, but you're a faun in a human village. Like it or not, you're going to stand out. The fact you can speak English well will certainly help though."

Namo's countenance brightened. “Oh, for shoot. Really? You think I can speak English well? That's so nice of ya to say!"

“Well, there's the whole accent thing, but that's not a problem, necessarily. It just shows that your first language isn't English." Martin idly wondered how she learned to speak English so well in the first place if she had never so much as set foot in a human settlement before.

They continued through the large but otherwise unassuming market square after Martin stopped to ask one of the less wealthy-looking townspeople loitering in the square for directions to the Central District. The haggard man pointed toward a broad staircase leading from the marketplace to the southwest and told them to cross the river. The pair heeded his directions and crossed the Pinuntuu River. Once they arrived on the other side, the wealth disparity was much more apparent. Gone were the fanciful estates with elaborate woodwork and masonry. Instead, shabby cottages, farmhouses, and even lean-tos dotted either side of the corduroy road used for hauling logs and planks to and from the sawmills.

Martin chimed in given the change of environment. “So, this part of town is probably a bit rough. Do you have someone you were planning on staying with? I'm going to see if I can find a place with dinner and a bed."

“Um, well, I don't know anybody here, and I'm worried I'll get lost if I stay alone." The telltale signs of Namo's nervousness had reappeared. Her drooping ears, close-set stance, and the fact she was tightly clutching one arm around the wrist pretty unmistakably illustrated that she was feeling uncomfortable.

“I'm sure you'll be fine. You can just ask someone for directions, can't you?" Martin turned and began to continue toward the cross street that the footbridge pointed toward.

“Wait!" Namo exclaimed. “Please, let me come with you."

“Hey, Namo, don't worry. I know you're capable of handling yourself. The folks up in the Northern District back where we came from will be happy to help you, I'm sure."

“Well, yeah, I'm sure they would, but it's nice to have a friendly face to talk to. Please?"

More like talk at, Martin mused. He considered his options for a moment. Keeping her around might serve to loosen some tongues on account of the fact she was a different species. She might also remember more of her interaction with Fadina if she stuck around. But ugh, it would mean having to put up with her incessant chattering. “Okay, fine," he acquiesced after a moment of weighing the pros and cons. “I'm warning you though - if you get shivved down here by some two-bit thief because you look like an easy target, don't blame me."

“I can handle myself in a fight, don'tcha know? And besides, I've already dealt with one thief today. I am sure I could deal with another."

Martin had no choice but to admit that the faun had a point.