Anton Cook has been staying in Percival for over a month. He has come to understand the customs and practices of the country. It was about time he took his leave.
In front of him stood a young lady cloaked in a black cape, her face hidden behind a fox mask. Despite the vibrantly colored night surrounding them, her mysterious presence seemed striking, yet always out of reach.
He found himself clenching and unclenching his hand, feeling the cool night air brush past his fingertips. A hint of her warmth lingered with him.
He was unable to decipher the expression behind her mask, but he was certain that her face remained unchanged. To her, he was just another vaguely familiar stranger.
It seemed as if everyone in the world was merely a passerby to her.
"Safe travels," she said. Her voice was calm, pleasantly serene against the backdrop of the evening.