Glider woke up screaming. He sat up with such force that the burlap covers (burlap? Where was he?) on him flew through the air, and landed at the foot of the bed. Heart pounding, head dizzy, he slammed a closed fist on his chest and tried to catch his breath. Poor lad. He’d been through a lot.

  “Where am I?” he said shakily.

  He was in a small room, on a scratchy bed that barely fit, wedged against the walls, with a small door in the corner. It smelled of sawdust, spilled beer, and his own body. Not a great smell, but he’d slept in worse places.

  Glider just about tripped over his feet trying to get off of the bed, his arms had woken up, but his knees hadn’t yet, and he took a slow steadying step, one hand still on the bed. At this point, his knees decided they were fully as asleep as a bear in winter, and he promptly crumpled down to the floor in an untidy pile of knees and lanky limbs.

  He leaned backwards, resting against the bed, and rubbed his forehead with his hand, feeling a strange hollowness in his chest. What had happened? Why was he here? All he remembered was a glide, heading out on a routine delivery mission. Two mail deliveries and a priority ore delivery to a prospector. Soaring together with… a friend? A conflict, or a fight, or a storm? And a sensation in his chest. A horrible sensation. One that hurt a little too much to think about right now. Glider gasped, sucking in air, and shaking his head as if to clear the cobwebs from his mind.

  Again. I felt incredibly sorry for Glider. It isn’t often one flies straight through the manifestation of a dead god’s anger. That does tend to leave a certain shadow on one’s mental psyche. But he didn’t know that.

  “Come on, Glider. You got this.”

  He thought to himself, ‘Be brave. Be bold. Be kind.’ the motto of the very first Glider that he took his name from.

  “Alright, lets get out of here.”

  Glider tapped his knees gently with his hands, trying to convince them to wake up, and lo! They did. Thus healed, he forced himself up to standing, and proceeded to push open the door. As he did, heard a warm bell of laughter, of mixed voices, men, women in a way he hadn’t heard in a while. This wasn’t the raucous laughter of a drunk group - no, this was softer, more good-natured. Glider froze, door half-pushed open, foot in the air. Whatever he’d expected after waking up from the storm, it hadn’t been this.

  “Hey there! You’re awake!” cried the brown-haired woman standing by the bar. She dropped the mug she was cleaning and skipped over to him, pulling the door open and warmly clasping his shoulders. She was quite suddenly, very close to him, her eyes enthusiastically gazing at his with a smile, bright as a button.

  “I’m so glad to see you up and about! I wasn’t sure when you were going to wake up - how are you feeling? What’s your name?”

  Glider paused, slightly overwhelmed by the cascade of questions and energy, and shook his head.

  “I uh. I’m afraid I don’t remember very much. Where am I? What is this place?” Glider swayed and leaned against the door, wincing at his bruised side.

  “Give him some space, Sel. Poor glider looks like he’s had a rough time.” a lilting baritone voice came from behind Sel. The voice belonged to a smiling man wearing simple working clothes, brown trousers and a plain cotton shirt, roughly buttoned over his girth. He was tall, enormous, and looked as gentle as the teddy bear that Glider had hugged to bed when he was seven.

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  If I may be so bold, this man gave off tremendous dad vibes. Then again, I never quite knew my father, but I’d like to think he was half as nice as Hayte.

  He walked over, extending his hand. “I’m Hayte, and this here is Sel. Welcome to the Everlit Inn. I promise I’ll answer all of your questions as much as you can, but first we’ll get some food into you.”

  Glider opened his mouth to protest, then as he inhaled to speak, smelled something absolutely wonderful. His stomach growled ravenously. He swayed again into the doorframe. Next thing he knew, he was sitting down at a well-worn oak table, with two pairs of curious, and enthusiastic eyes watching him eat. He didn’t enjoy the audience, but took one look at the plate of sizzling corn, dumplings, and soybeans, and forgot all else.

  Seconds later, the plate was empty. Glider blinked. He hadn’t realised just how hungry he’d been, but actually - Hayte slid another plate of food onto the table in front of him, and placed down a carved wooden cup of water.

  “Eat, drink - your body needs it! You’ll feel better, and more yourself.” Hayte almost beamed in delight at seeing Glider’s appetite.

  Moments later, Glider was relaxing back against the wooden chairs, briefly content with the delicious hot meal, and the cool cup of water. That had been… wonderful. Still though, he should probably figure out some things.

  Glider paused awkwardly, and stuttered slightly.

  “Uh. Uh, well. Thanks for the food. It was delicious. So delicious. The most! But.. where am I? Last thing I remember I was gliding, and a sudden storm rolled in. I must have hit something or maybe a spell hit me?”

  Never let it be said that Glider was eloquent. But… he was earnest. And that counted for a lot.

  Sel piped up eagerly “You’re at the Everlit! We’re the best island around these parts, apart from maybe Nissin. But we’re nicer!”

  Hayte chuckled, a fluting, lilting noise, and rested his bulk back into a chair opposite Glider. “Sel’s direct but not wrong. I like to think we’re friendlier than the lot over in the big city. This is the Everlit Inn, on Everlit Island. My name is Hayte, and I help run the inn with Sel, a daughter of one of my close friends.” He paused for a second, then continued.

  “About three days ago, we found you in one of our soybean fields, unconscious with debris all around you. I was out farming, tending to the ginger plants, tying them into proper little stems and all of a sudden I stumbled over you - soaked to the bone with a nasty bump on your side! Don’t have much in the way of healers on Everlit, but we took you home, looked at your wounds, put you in a bed, and here you are.”

  Hayte sighed, shifting his weight slightly, as the chair creaked. Glider realised that it was a sound of puzzlement, the innkeeper’s brows creasing over his brown eyes. Still, he radiated a warming paternal energy, as he put one hand on the table and looked earnestly into Glider’s eyes.

  “I’m very glad to see you awake and well, but I’m very confused. What happened to you? You look like you’ve been through one of the Winter Storms, but we don’t get there for months!”

  The patterns on Glider’s planet are odd, in that they some follow fixed meteorological patterns, and some defy any categorisation or reason. Storms exist and follow defined paths, rain comes and goes in regular patterns - with one notable exception - but the wind is unpredictable and uncontrollable without the help of windeels or magic. The Winter Storms are a set of three storms, each which freeze a path throughout the skylands, predictable and defined. The islands themselves travel on fixed paths, perhaps some unexpected gift from Air, and occasionally cross paths with the storms, entering Winter for a while.

  Glider shivered briefly. “I uh, I don’t quite rightly know what happened, but some bits are coming back to me now. I was taking a delivery, one out here to Everlit? I remember flying a long way, stopping at some islands, the storm, sounds and voices but… ” he placed his hand, fist over his heart, feeling an ache in his chest.

  “But that doesn’t make much sense, does it?” Haytes warm voice poured over him. There isn’t a storm nearby for months of travel, and we haven’t seen any signs of weather changing. Odd, and strange. Might be some windeels or other creatures playing some tricks on you, or maybe that crash you took really disoriented you. Not to worry. I’m sure you’ll be well and healthy in no time.” He leaned back slightly, then turned to Sel.

  “Sel, would you fetch the Glider’s pack from the storeroom?”

  Sel jumped up eagerly, dashing to a small doorway behind the bar. She emerged moments later, clutching a brown pack, lashed and surrounded by a long length of twine. Glider recognised it immediately - a standard Glider’s Guild issue travel pack, designed for lightweight travel and mild weather conditions, with minimal enchantment or expense. It was a staple for Gliders everywhere.

  He opened his pack, still feeling a strange hollowness inside him. It was his pack, he even recognised some belongings, a spare uniform, a seal of delivery, but something was still missing, it wasn’t his compass or his sigil, those were thankfully still there but…

  He suddenly stood, proceeding the last few comments that Hayte had made. Crashed. Storm. “Hayte.” His voice shook, wavering and uncertain. “Where’s my glider?”