The group stepped into a spacious warehouse owned by Rava’s clan, its cavernous interior lit by beams of sunlight filtering through high windows. Shelves lined the walls, packed with crates, barrels, and bundles of supplies. The faint scent of dust, oiled tal, and aged wood filled the air, a reminder of the space’s utilitarian purpose. Workers moved with purpose between the aisles, so carrying heavy loads while others scribbled notes on clipboards or inspected inventory.
Rava led the group to an empty table near the center of the room, her movents precise and deliberate. She pulled a folded sheet of parchnt from her belt and spread it flat, revealing a detailed list of supplies written in her neat hand.
“These are the essentials,” she began, her voice steady as she tapped her clawed finger against the parchnt. “Most of this can be sourced here—standard supplies for clan operations. But so of these are more specialized, and we’ll need to seek out artisans or rchants in the city.”
Vivienne leaned closer, scanning the list with a thoughtful hum. “I’m guessing these enchanted wards fall into the ‘specialized’ category?”
Rava nodded. “Correct. We’ll need to visit an artificer for those. They keep the aetherbeasts away at night.”
Before Vivienne could respond, a burly lekine worker approached, his broad shoulders dusted with sawdust. He carried himself with the ease of soone who’d worked the warehouse for decades. “Twilight Fang,” he greeted Rava with a respectful nod, his voice gruff but polite. “What can we do for you?”
“Jorren." Rava inclined her head. “I need assistance gathering these supplies,” Rava replied, gesturing to the list. “The basics should be in stock, but I’ll need confirmation.”
The worker leaned over the parchnt, his sharp eyes scanning the items. “Aye, most of this we can have ready within the hour. Anything marked with a star—” he pointed to a few entries “—we’ll have to double-check inventory for. Might be running low on climbing gear.”
Kivvy, who had been idly sniffing at a crate of dried goods, chid in, “Better make sure you’ve got enough food too. I’m not risking starvation on this little outing.”
The worker raised a brow at the goblin but didn’t comnt, instead turning his attention back to Rava. “I'll fetch soone to help bring what we can to you.”
“Thank you, Jorren,” Rava said. She glanced at the group. “In the anti, we’ll handle the more specialized items ourselves. Vivienne, Kivvy—work with Jorren to ensure the basics are packed and ready. Renzia and I will handle the other preparations.”
Jorren nodded, motioning to another worker nearby. A younger lekine with an armful of tools hurried over, her expression eager as she awaited instructions. “I’ll take them to aisles six and nine,” Jorren said, gesturing to Vivienne and Kivvy. “That should cover most of what they’ll need.”
Vivienne raised a brow at Rava. “You’re not sticking with us?”
“I trust you can handle it,” Rava replied with a faint smirk. “Try not to wander off and get lost, okay?”
“Funny.” Vivienne shot her a look but followed Jorren and his assistant as they headed toward the shelves.
Vivienne trudged after Jorren and the younger lekine, her tail swishing with faint irritation. Rava's smirk lingered in her mind, and the subtle jab gnawed at her pride. Wander off and get lost? She scoffed silently. As if she'd ever hear the end of it if she did.
The aisles were narrow, lined with crates and shelves stuffed with tools, gear, and odds and ends she couldn’t imdiately identify. It slled of wood, oil, and faint traces of dust—functional, if not exactly inviting. Kivvy trotted along beside her, her wide eyes scanning the rows like a child in a candy shop.
“Aisle six,” Said Jorren, motioning ahead. The younger lekine was already darting ahead, her enthusiasm bordering on reckless. “We’ll grab your survival kits and field tools there. Nine’s got the heavier stuff—camping gear, rations, and the like.”
Vivienne nodded absently, her gaze flicking to Kivvy, who had stopped to inspect sothing on the shelf. “Keep moving,” Vivienne said lightly, nudging her forward with her tail. “We’re not here to window shop.”
Kivvy grinned sheepishly but fell back into step. “There’s just so much stuff! It’s all so... useful-looking.”
Jorren chuckled dryly. “Useful’s the goal. This warehouse is mostly for specialised military supplies, such as recon gear or special operations. The one for most soldiers is several buildings down.”
The group moved swiftly through aisle six, gathering survival kits and a few extras Jorren deed essential—a compact toolset, an extra coil of rope. By the ti they reached aisle nine, the real challenge began. The heavier equipnt piled up quickly, requiring teamwork to load the trolley.
The younger lekine grabbed a small tent, struggling as her knees wobbled under its weight. Her arms trembled, her face red with effort, but she stubbornly held on. “I’ve got it!” she insisted, though her voice betrayed the strain.
Vivienne, watching from the corner of her eye, stepped forward with casual grace. “You’re about to have it on the floor,” she quipped. With one hand, she plucked the tent from the lekine’s grip like it weighed nothing, hefting it over her shoulder before placing it neatly on the trolley.
Jorren paused mid-checklist, his sharp gaze landing on her. “That’s not light,” he said, his tone neutral but tinged with surprise.
Vivienne smirked, brushing off the remark with an air of nonchalance. “Guess I’m built tougher than I look.”
She turned to another crate marked “Reinforced Stakes” and popped it open. Inside were bundles of thick steel rods. Without hesitation, she scooped up an entire set in both arms, her movents steady and deliberate as she stacked them onto the trolley.
The lekine gawked. “You carried all of that like it was nothing!”
“Maybe it was nothing,” Vivienne replied smoothly, her tail flicking in amusent. She turned to Jorren, her smirk sharpening. “Are we done here, or should I carry the trolley too?”
Jorren’s lips twitched, his composure faltering for a mont before he muttered, “Efficient. I’ll give you that.”
The assistant lekine, still wide-eyed, scrambled to grab smaller items, clearly eager to avoid being shown up again. Kivvy, on the other hand, nudged Vivienne with a grin, her eyes sparkling with amusent. “You’re scary strong, you know that?”
Vivienne offered a nonchalant shrug, though her tail swished in satisfaction. “Don’t worry. I’ll only use my powers for good.”
Kivvy’s expression flattened, her deadpan response imdiate. “I know for a fact that’s a lie.”
Vivienne grinned wide, the sharpness of her teeth on full display as her face split open into sothing almost serpentine. Her long tongue flicked out, lazily running over her lips as she recalled the feast from re nights before. “They were traitors to the clan,” she protested, her tone light and unbothered. “I don’t see how that’s evil.”
Kivvy shivered, her grin faltering. “You’re terrifying when you say things like that, you know.”
“That’s the idea,” Vivienne replied, giving the trolley a final shove that sent it rolling toward the end of the aisle with surprising speed. “Keeps things interesting.”
Jorren, who had been walking slightly ahead, glanced back at Vivienne, his sharp eyes betraying a mix of wariness and grudging respect. “Let’s hope Lady Ravanyr appreciates your... enthusiasm.”
Vivienne’s grin widened, sharp and teasing. “Oh, she has. More than once, actually.”
Jorren coughed awkwardly, quickly looking ahead, while the assistant lekine blinked in confusion. When understanding finally dawned, her face turned beet red, and she busied herself adjusting the items on the trolley to avoid eting anyone’s eyes.
As they rounded the corner, the group caught sight of Rava, who was already stationed at a large table. Spread across it were several weapons—sleek and deadly in their craftsmanship. A wickedly curved dagger glead under the overhead lights, alongside a compact crossbow and a set of throwing knives. Rava stood with her arms crossed, her expression cool and composed, though her sharp eyes flicked toward the approaching trolley.
“You’re late,” Rava said dryly, though there was no real heat in her voice.
Vivienne stepped forward, hands on her hips. “Bla your aisles. Too many shiny things to sift through.”
Rava arched a brow, her smirk faint but cutting. “And yet, sohow, you managed to survive. Impressive.”
“Impressive’s my middle na,” Vivienne shot back, her tail swishing behind her.
Jorren, ignoring the exchange, motioned to the supplies. “Everything’s here, Lady Ravanyr. Packed and accounted for.”
Rava stepped forward, her gaze sweeping over the trolley before landing on Vivienne. “Good. Let’s see if you’re as capable of organizing it all as you are of carrying it.”
Vivienne rolled her eyes, but her grin stayed sharp. “Do I look like a quartermaster to you?”
Rava’s smirk deepened, her tone edged with dry amusent. “No, but you’re soone who needs to stay busy—otherwise, I’d have even more reasons to worry.”
Kivvy stifled a laugh behind her hand, earning a sharp sideways glance from Vivienne. “You’re enjoying this a little too much,” Vivienne muttered.
“Guilty as charged,” Kivvy said with an unabashed grin. She quickly darted forward to grab one of the smaller crates, dodging Vivienne’s retaliatory flick of her tail with practiced ease.
Rava’s attention shifted as she reached for the crossbow on the table. Her gaze flicked to Kivvy. “I don’t know what your level of training is, but I figured a dagger is better than nothing. What about this crossbow—could you use it?”
Kivvy tilted her head, considering. Then, with surprising agility, she climbed onto the edge of the table and sat on her knees, examining the weapon with a critical eye. “Nah, too big for . Reloading it would take forever,” she said, shaking her head. “Goblins where I’m from weren’t exactly allowed near weapons, so we had to get... creative. Shiv here, explosive there—give the right materials, and I could whip up so boom sticks.”
Vivienne arched a brow. “Boomsticks?”
Kivvy grinned, a mischievous glint lighting up her eyes. “Throwy sticks with explody bits on one end. Loud, flashy, gets the job done. Doesn’t need much fancy aim, either.”
Vivienne nodded sagely, her expression thoughtful. “Ah, grenades.”
Kivvy blinked, whipping her head around. “What’s a grenade? Another type of boomstick?”
“Sort of,” Vivienne said, her grin growing sharper. “Picture a small tal can filled with explosives. It’s got a fuse and a pin to keep it from going off until you’re ready. Pull the pin, toss it, and boom.”
Kivvy’s curiosity was palpable as she leaned in, almost bouncing on her toes. “Wouldn’t the tal just stop the explosion?”
Vivienne shook her head, her tone slipping into sothing almost teacherly. “Nope. You use thin tal that’s designed to shatter when it detonates. The explosion blasts the fragnts outward, turning them into deadly little shards. Whatever you hit gets the worst of both.”
Kivvy’s face lit up in awe. “You know, sotis you think like a goblin.”
Vivienne tilted her head, her grin widening. “I think she just complinted .”
Rava cleared her throat, cutting through the banter. “We can try to source the materials for your ‘boomsticks,’ Kivvy, but only for ergencies. Noise like that in the wilds with a group this size? It’s a risk we can’t afford.”
Kivvy deflated slightly but nodded, muttering under her breath. “Fine, fine. Ergencies only.”
Rava turned her attention to Vivienne, her voice calm but pointed. “I take it you won’t be needing any weapons?”
Vivienne puffed her chest dramatically. “I am a deadly weapon!” she declared, her voice dripping with mock nace as she threw her arms wide. “Behold!”
Rava barely spared her a glance, her expression unamused. “Mhm.” She turned away, continuing her checklist without acknowledging Vivienne’s cackling. “Renzia, do you require anything?”
The mannequin, as silent as ever, stepped forward and pulled out her slate. With asured movents, she began to scribble in her neat, deliberate handwriting. She turned it toward Rava.
I do not need weapons. I have my needles. I would like a sewing kit for repairs.
“That sounds reasonable,” Rava said, nodding as she made a note on her list. She glanced over the supplies with a critical eye. “We’re nearly there. I still need to visit an enchanter for warding rods, and we’re short on powdered cold iron for the talismans. Once those are secured, we should be ready to leave.”
Jorren stepped closer, his tone brisk. “I’ll prepare the transport crates. Shouldn’t take more than an hour to finalize.”
“Good.” Rava’s gaze swept the group, lingering briefly on each of them. “Finish organizing the rest of this. When I return, I don’t want to hear that you’ve gotten into trouble—or broken anything.”
Vivienne placed a hand over her heart, feigning hurt. “You wound , Lady Ravanyr. I am the picture of restraint.”
Kivvy snickered. “She said trouble and breaking things. Restraint wasn’t ntioned.”
Rava gave them both a long, unimpressed look before walking away, leaving Vivienne to flash Kivvy a toothy grin. “You’re lucky she likes you.”
“Lucky? I’m indispensable,” Kivvy retorted, grabbing another small crate for the pile.
Renzia, anwhile, quietly reorganized a stack of tools, her movents eerily precise, as though she were guided by unseen strings. Her featureless face tilted slightly toward Vivienne, who caught the motion and raised a brow. “What? You got sothing to say, Renzia?”
The mannequin remained still for a mont before shaking her head and returning to her task, leaving Vivienne to mutter, “Cryptic as always.” Her gaze lingered on Renzia for a beat longer, the oddity of the mannequin’s quiet presence tugging at her curiosity. But the mont passed, and she turned her focus back to Rava.
Vivienne strode up to the warrioress and reached up to tap her shoulder lightly with the tip of her claw. “When are we leaving exactly? I’ve got a couple of things commissioned—actual clothes this ti, the kind that don’t disintegrate the mont I, uh, find a fight.”
Rava paused, her brow furrowing slightly as she thought. “Tomorrow, ideally. Though, perhaps we should wait another two or three days to get everything in order. I’ve been considering your suggestion about pulling the wagon. We’ll need to get a harness fitted for you.”
Vivienne tilted her head, trying to mask the flicker of excitent that the idea sparked within her. There was sothing strangely appealing about the thought of her wolf form being put to practical use, though she’d rather gnaw her own tail off than admit it outright. “I’ll stick with the wolf form, then. Tonight, I’ll work on shrinking it down a bit. Less monstrous, more manageable.”
“Good idea,” Rava replied, nodding her approval. “Aim for roughly the size of a quocha. Slightly larger would be fine, too.”
“A... quocha?” Vivienne echoed, tilting her head further, her confusion plain. The room seed to collectively pause, every gaze snapping to her as though she’d just asked if water was wet. Kivvy, in particular, looked as though she were physically holding back from making a sarcastic comnt.
Rava raised her paw to shoulder height to demonstrate. “It’s a canine beast of burden. About this tall at the shoulder and four to five tis as long. Common enough in the borderlands.”
“Oh.” Vivienne’s lips quirked upward in a genuine smile. “Thank you, darling. I’ll do my best.”
Rava simply returned her gaze, her expression unreadable. “See that you do.”
With that, she turned back to the group, her focus shifting to the remaining preparations. Vivienne stood there for a mont, allowing the silence to settle around them. There was sothing strangely comforting about it. No need for teasing, no need for extra words. Just the quiet hum of a task nearing completion.
Vivienne stretched, feeling the familiar warmth of anticipation building within her. In a few days, they’d be on the move. It had been a while since she’d been on the road, and despite everything, there was sothing she couldn’t shake—a sense of purpose. She let her gaze wander over to Kivvy, who was adjusting one of the crates, and then to Renzia, who had already started to gather her things in her usual silent way.
Tonight though, Vivienne would experint.
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