The next day.
Evening.
After passing the Elven west border gate, the group was heading toward the Beastkin Nation's first border town.
Buddy strode forward with a smug, bobbing gait, his head held high and his beak slightly open in a cheerful squawk. Javier sat comfortably on his back, enjoying the scenery as the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over the plains.
Inside one of the pekko-drawn carriages, Gorak sat with his girls, his arms crossed and his expression sour. "This beggar said this was supposed to be fast. And yet, it's not that fast at all."
Valcrea agreed with a furious scowl. "He lied to us. These dumb birds are slow. We should have kept our horses."
Gorak's patience snapped. He shoved his head out of the carriage window and shouted, "Oi, beggar!"
Javier glanced back over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "What now?"
