The three of them walked back the way they came.
The buildings on either side of the street cast long, slender Shadows in the sunlight.
But Aidele's steps were a bit lighter than before.
By the time they returned to No. 12 Golden Oak Street, it was already noon.
Old Finn was sorting through accounts behind the front hall counter. He didn't even look up at the sound of the door opening.
His withered fingers flicked the abacus beads, creating a crisp, clacking sound.
"Back?" he asked, his voice hoarse, as if talking to himself.
"Mhm," Aidele responded. Without another word, she headed straight for the courtyard.
Old Finn raised his head, his cloudy eyes sweeping over the temporary badge on Ian's chest before glancing at the little black bird peeking out from his shoulder.
The corner of his mouth twitched, looking like a smile, but also like a helpless, self-deprecating sneer.
Then he lowered his head and went back to his abacus.
Ian paid him no mind.
