“Ey, wake up. Demonfolk gal, we’re at Fort Logger.”

Sollar groaned, and wiped her eyes. She winced and whimpered a bit as she had accidentally rubbed some coal dust directly into them.

A splash of, admittedly warm, water hit her directly on her face. The Demonfolk girl’s eyes shot open to see that Serclow had splashed her with the small bucket.

“And that’s why you don’t sleep in the coal pile,” he muttered. “Anyway, let’s get out. Fire’s gonna die soon on this Traction Hauler, so it’ll be chilly. We’ll be movin’ over to the cabin.”

Sollar tilted her head.

“Go into cabin?” she asked. Another unfamiliar word.

“A cabin. You don’t know what a cabin is?”

The Demonfolk girl shook her head no.

“Alright, whatever. Just follow me.”

Serclow hopped out of the opened side door of the Traction Hauler. She could see that Tila, the Human woman, was already outside and examining the Traction Hauler. Meanwhile, the Snow Spirit that Sollar had met at first was no longer steering the front, instead he was glancing over the rear of the Traction Hauler.

Sollar took a look back, to see that the Traction Hauler had apparently been dragging a few large wooden tree trunks behind it. Mud was splattered all over the timber, and was even making its way into the chains that wrapped around the logs.

“Think we’ve dragged back more mud than timber,” Flaker said. He rubbed a single finger across the dirt-coated chains, turned his finger up to examine the grime, then wiped it off on his shirt. “And I’ll have to clean it all.”

“We’ll leave it for tomorrow,” Tila said. “The sun’s almost down.”

She was still examining the Traction Hauler. Sollar shifted her attention from Flaker to the woman, to see what she was looking at. It seemed she was paying some attention to the unusual gear system that was located on the oddly-shaped wheels of the Traction Hauler.

“Oi, Serclow. Take a look at this, think some of the gears are gumming up from all the dirt and muck,” Tila said. She glanced over at the Demonfolk man, expecting him to say something.

“As you said to Flaker earlier, ‘leave it for tomorrow’,” came Serclow’s immediate response. “I’m beat. Maybe you should’ve been shoveling some of the coal instead.”

“I run the valves and pipes that make your coal-shoveling useful,” Tila retorted.

“Whatever. Let’s get something to eat.”

Serclow gestured to Sollar for her to follow him, as Tila stepped over to a particularly medium-sized cabin that was within the area. The Demonfolk girl, as she walked forward, looked around to see that the area was lined with several wooden walls.

“So many walls...” she whispered.

Tila opened up the door, and proceeded to light an oil lantern to hold in front of her.

“I’m gonna get the fire started,” Tila said. “You, get the food.”

“Alright,” Serclow replied. “I’ll be breaking open a new barrel of salt pork. That alright, Tila?”

“What of the salt beef?” the woman asked.

Serclow’s face twisted in disgust. “Today was a hard day, I’d rather eat the pork.”

“Whatever. The salt beef isn’t going away, we’ll need to use it up at some point.”

“The salt beef is better used for stews,” the Demonfolk man replied. “We haven’t made a stew in a good while, now that you mention it...”

“Stew?” Sollar asked. “I like stew! It’s usually salty.”

“...Yeah, no really?” Serclow asked. “Give me a moment, I’ll be grabbing the salt pork from the storehouse.”

The Demonfolk man stepped out, before turning back to Sollar.

“Oh, and you. Sollar, stay inside. Tila’s gonna get the fire up, it’s gonna be a bit chilly ‘til then.”

Sollar nodded, then stepped inside. She glanced around the sparsely-furnished cabin, and noted that it seemed to be one room only. There were a handful of beds to one side, and a few tables and chairs scattered about.

The Demonfolk girl’s focus on the room was interrupted when a hand gently pushed her to the side. Looking over, she could see that it was the Snow Spirit who was making his way into the room.

“Flake-ar?” she asked.

“Yea?” the Snow Spirit asked.

“Why is your hair and skin this weird white blueish color?” Sollar asked.

Flaker stopped in his tracks. He didn’t expect such a question, so it took him a good ten seconds to think of a response.

“That’s because... uh, I’mma Snow Spirit,” he replied.

“Why are you a Snow Spirit?”

“Uh, ‘cuz I was made that way,” he replied. “Like how you’re a Demonfolk.”

“But why are you different from me?” Sollar insisted. She was insisting on a question that Flaker didn’t really know how to answer, so he just shrugged.

“Well, I ain’t the right person to ask,” he admitted.

“Then who is?”

“An Snow Spirit expert? I don’t know.”

Tila spoke up. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know, Flaker.”

“You don’t needa say that again,” Flaker replied.

Sollar finally decided to step into the room, as Tila prepared the fire. She pushed a few of the still-warm coals around with a hot poker, then threw in a few handfuls of dry grass. They quickly ignited.

“Flaker, give me a hand here,” Tila said. She grabbed a hammer with one hand and began smacking at the legs of a half-broken wooden chair that was laying next to the fire.

The Snow Spirit gave a few lazy steps over, and glanced at the chair.

“You’re not doing it right,” he said.

Tila looked up at him, from where she was crouched next to the fireplace. “I’m not?”

“No. You’re supposed to do it like this.”

The Snow Spirit picked up the chair by its backrest, and then brought it over his head behind his back.

Then, he brought the chair down and proceeded to smash it on the floor.

Tila shielded her face as pieces of wood splintered from the debris that used to be a chair.

“...I’d complain about you ruining the floor, but this place is a dump anyways,” Tila muttered. “Warn me next time, at least.”

“Won’t be. Tired already,” the Snow Spirit replied. “I might go take a nap.”

The Snow Spirit yawned, then stepped away. He slouched onto an unbroken chair next to one of the tables.

Tila rolled her eyes and began picking up after Flaker’s mess. She tossed most of the smaller wood chips into the growing flames, and then threw in a few of the more sizable pieces.

Meanwhile, Sollar bounded up to Tila and glanced at the shattered pieces of the chair on the ground. She looked nearby to a disorganized pile of damaged furniture that had been piled in the corner of the room.

“Can I break the chairs, too?” she asked, pointing to the pile.

“Uh, what?” Tila asked. “You want to break... chairs?”

Her eyes followed to where Sollar was pointing, and she blinked at the assorted broken pieces of furniture.

“We’re using that as firewood,” the Human continued. “You can break them if you want, sure. Just don’t toss them at me.”

Sollar was grinning ear to ear. “So I can break them?” she asked.

“What did I just say? Yes, you can.”

The Demonfolk girl bounded over and immediately grabbed one of the chairs. She mimicked Flaker’s earlier motion, bringing the damaged chair over her head before bringing it down on the ground.

While Flaker shattered the chair into a few pieces, Sollar put so much force into her own attempt at disassembling the chair that the wooden chair, quite literally, splattered.

This time, Tila really had to shield her own face from the flurry of wooden splinters that flew in all directions. It only lasted a moment, the Human woman lowering her arm to see what had just transpired.

There was a little pile of wood fibers and sawdust where the chair had landed. Sollar was still holding onto what remained of the back of the chair, in her hands.

“Sollar! Do it more gently!” Tila exclaimed. She ran the fine sawdust through her fingers. “I can’t toss this into the fire!”

“Oh. Oops. Sorry,” Sollar said, her voice meek. “Let me try it again.”

The Demonfolk girl dropped the remains of the prior chair, which clattered to the ground. She picked up another chair, this one missing two of its legs, and held it up. She didn’t bring it over her head, but rather raised her arms to smash it against the hardwood floor.

The wooden chair broke again, but this time it smashed into several small pieces rather than turning into wood splinters.

“Yay! Is this good enough?” Sollar asked. Her wide-eyed gaze met Tila’s.

“...It’s fine, yeah,” Tila muttered. She picked up one of the pieces and tossed it into the fire. “Mind doing it a few more times?’

“Okay!”

Sollar did the same thing, picking up another chair and smashing it against the ground.

“I step in and the first thing I see that girl is doing is smashing chairs on the floor,” Serclow said. The Demonfolk man had stepped back into the room, with two small barrels over each of his shoulders.

“It’s fine. Told her she could smash it into firewood for us,” Tila replied. “You bring the food?”

“Yeah, some salt pork,” Serclow replied. He closed the door behind him and stepped in. “I also decided to grab some beer, too.”

Another chair was smashed apart, courtesy of Sollar. Tila and Serclow glanced over at her for just a moment as she joyously disassembled yet another piece of broken furniture.

The Demonfolk man rolled his eyes then stepped in, kneeling down to place both barrels on the ground. He pried open the barrel with a cast iron crowbar that was on the table nearby.

“Want a drink?” he asked, to nobody in particular.

Tila nodded. “I can do with one, sure.”

“Me too!” Sollar added.

Flaker remained quiet in his chair. He had placed an old straw hat over his head, making it difficult to tell if he had already fallen asleep or not.

Meanwhile, Serclow dipped a wooden mug into the barrel to get a cup of beer. He then handed it over to Tila. However, the man raised his eyebrow at Sollar’s request.

“It’s beer. I’m not sure you’ll like it,” he stated.

“What’s ‘beer’?” Sollar proceeded to ask. “Something good to drink?”

She sounded so hopeful that both Tila and Serclow almost didn’t want to break the news to her.

“To me and her?” Serclow asked, pointing to him then to the human woman. “Yes. But to you? Nope. You won’t like the taste.”

“Can I try?”

Both the Fort Logger laborers stared at each other, debating whether they should or not.

“I don’t think—” Serclow began.

Sollar immediately frowned.

“But I want to try!” she exclaimed.

Tila took a sip from her beer. “I’m not letting her touch my cup.”

“She can use mine,” Flaker said. It seemed that the Snow Spirit was still awake, despite lounging on the chair. He raised the edge of the battered straw hat on his head, blue eyes peering from beneath the brim.

“No, the question was whether we’d even allow her to drink it at all,” Serclow replied. “I’m not so sure about it.”

“Why not?” Tila asked. “You Demonfolk could probably drink a lot, considering how hardy you all are.”

The Snow Spirit proceeded to push over his own cup, which was on the table. “I don’t plan on drinking any today either. Got my fair share of liquids in the rain. Just get her a little bit... maybe she’ll like it, I don’t know.”

Serclow cautiously grabbed the wooden cup and dipped it slightly into the keg of beer. He then looked over at an expectant Sollar, before handing it off to her.

“Take a small sip,” he instructed.”

The Demonfolk girl looked at him with her wide eyes. She nodded... then proceeded to disregard his advice by chugging the mouthful of drink in the cup.

She promptly reeled back and spat all of it back out, coughing and sputtering it directly into the cup.

“I’m buying a new cup after this,” Flaker complained.

Sollar continued spitting out everything in her mouth, in an attempt to wash the bitter taste off her tongue.

“Bad! Terrible! I don’t like it!” Sollar exclaimed.

“Warned you,” Serclow replied. “Was it the fizzy feeling, the bitterness, or the alcohol burn that you don't like?”

“Probably all three of ‘em,” Flaker added.

Tila gave an insightful nod. “I’d be laughing right now, but this seems a little pitiful. I thought you Demonfolk could handle alcohol better. Like you, Serc.”

Serclow furrowed his eyebrows together. “I don’t even drink that much.”

“A shame, I stocked up a lot of beer specifically for you, too.”

Serclow shook his head, and muttered, “What is that supposed to mean?” He turned to the small barrel of salted pork and grabbed an iron skillet off the table. The Demonfolk man stepped towards the fire to begin cooking.

“Sollar, want some water?” Flaker asked, reaching out with an arm to hand her a waterskin. The Demonfolk girl didn’t need to be asked twice before she swiped it from the Snow Spirit’s hand. She proceeded to down all of it in one go.

After Sollar vacated all the terrible flavors from her tongue, she sighed.

“I hate the beer flavor,” she muttered. “Why do you drink it if it’s not tasty?”

“It gets tasty if you drink enough,” Tila replied. “But for Demonfolk, I thought they would’ve come with an inherent liking for it?”

She was looking at Serclow as she said the last line. He ignored that jab.

Sollar then interrupted her.

“I have a question for you, Til-ar!” she exclaimed.

“Huh? ‘Til-ar’?” the woman asked. She was puzzled over Sollar’s personalization of their names. “My name’s Tila, where’d ‘Tilar’ come from?”

“Because all names end in ‘ar’!” Sollar exclaimed. “Like Flake-ar! Or mine, Soll-ar!”

Tila shook her head and took a sip of her drink. “I’m not sure where you got that, but I won’t bother arguing. What’s your question?”

Sollar clenched her fists and gave a concerned look towards Tila. “Why are you so mean?” she asked.

Tila blinked, and frowned.

“I’m mean?”

“Yes!” Sollar exclaimed. “You and Sercl-ar don’t talk nice to each other!”

Tila shrugged. She brought a hand up to brush her hair, as if trying to figure out an answer to that question.

“Well, if I gotta be honest... Don’t really like Demonfolk,” Tila admitted. “They’re boisterous, loud. Not my style.”

“Hate you, too,” Serclow replied. He was cooking some of the salt pork over the fire.

Tila pointed to Serclow. “You’re an exception. Because at least you can work the traction hauler. And know how to banter. And aren’t an utter drunkard.”

“Perhaps I am, perhaps I’m not,” Serclow replied. “What about Sollar here?”

Tila glanced over at the Demonfolk girl. Serclow continued to speak.

“She’s not smart enough to do either of those. You dislike her, too?”

Tila shook her head. “If I have to be honest, she’s not smart enough to be angry at. She also doesn’t like beer, which means more for me.”

“Enough about the beer,” Serclow grunted. “What do you mean, she’s not smart enough to be angry at?”

“Can’t you see it, the way she acts? She’s not the brightest of... anyone, really.”

The Demonfolk man glanced over at Sollar again. Her attention was now on the other half-broken wooden chairs. She grabbed one and began to loudly beat it against the ground. This had the effect of shattering the chair into several pieces.

“You might have a point,” he replied.

Tila frowned. She had her own questions, too, but wasn’t sure how to ask Sollar. So she decided to be straightforward.

“Sollar!” she exclaimed. “I have a question for you.”

The Demonfolk girl immediately glanced up from the chair she was disassembling with her bare hands.

“What?” she asked.

“You’re a simpleton, aren’t you?”

Sollar took a moment to process that sentence, but she perked up. The Demonfolk girl distinctly remembered that word which was used, simpleton.

“Forr-ar said that ‘simpleton’ word was a word that was for me!” Sollar exclaimed, with enthusiasm. “But he said I can’t use it on other people!”

Tila stared at the Demonfolk girl, blinking twice.

“...Well, that answers that,” Tila said. “She admitted it upright... Who’s this ‘Forr-ar’ fellow? He travelled with you earlier?”

Sollar didn’t know how to ask or explain who he was, but there certainly were a few things she could say about him.

“Gen-rall Forr-ar! He’s...”

Sollar suddenly remembered some of General Forge’s words.

Pretend that we’re cousins.

“...I’m his cou-sin!” she exclaimed. “Like, one of those... cou-sin things!”

She spread her arms out as if giving some earth-shattering revelation.

Serclow looked up from the salt pork that he had been cooking over the fire, his attention grabbed by Sollar’s words.

“Wait. ‘Gen-rall Forr-ar’, as in ‘General Forge?”

Sollar nodded. “Yep! He calls himself that, but I like calling him Forr-ar!”

Serclow proceeded to lean back in his seat, sipping from his own mug of beer. There were a few beads of sweat running down his forehead which he wiped off, due to the heat of the fireplace.

“Really? General Forge himself? Hard to believe.”

“But I’m not lying!” Sollar exclaimed.

Serclow decided to humor her. Perhaps she did know who General Forge actually was.

“How is he?” Serclow asked. “Healthy, safe?”

“He’s working!” she replied. “As a labor-er! And I was, too!”

“Nice to see he’s still up and kicking...” the Demonfolk man muttered. “I was wondering where he went after the war.”

“Weren’t the Generals captured?” Tila asked.

“The only one who was actually brought into custody was General Riall. And she’s currently the provisional leader of the Demonfolk territories. But... wait a moment.”

Serclow then peered at Sollar, and narrowed his eyes at the girl. He had a finger on his chin.

“I’ve worked with Forge before,” Serclow replied. “I don’t see much of a resemblance.”

Tila shook her head and was about to say something. Sollar interrupted her.

“What’s a ‘resemblance’?” she asked.

“Nothing important,” Tila said, waving it off. “I’ve never met any of the Demonfolk Generals myself. Probably for the better.”

She muttered the last part to herself.

“But cousins don’t need to share a resemblance. She could be cousins with him, once or twice removed. Or she takes more after her... the family member that’s not directly related to him.”

Sollar cocked her head. She knew they were talking about her, but a few of the words were ones she didn’t understand.

Serclow snapped his finger and pointed it at Tila. “Fair point. Sounds like you know a lot about this.”

“I have a big family,” Tila continued. “They’re utterly insufferable to be around.”

Serclow nodded. “Mhm,” he said, in a tone suggesting doubt.

The conversation between the group sizzled down. This was the moment that Flaker realized he could interject.

The Snow Spirit pulled the straw hat off his head. He stood out of his seat and walked over to Sollar.

“Sollar, I’ve got a question for ya,” Flaker said.

Sollar almost jumped up at the sudden voice of the Snow Spirit. She turned around to glance back at him.

“Flake-ar? Aren’t you sleeping?” Sollar asked.

“I only needed a short nap,” the Snow Spirit replied. “I feel rested enough already. I’m curious, do you like ice cream?”

The Demonfolk girl tilted her head, in confusion. “What is ‘ice cream’?”

Flaker’s eyes widened. “You don’t know what ice cream is?”

“Flaker, enough of this ‘ice cream’ talk...” Tila muttered. “It’s just flavored ice.”

“It’s more than just that!” Flaker exclaimed. “Technically, what I can make is just shaved ice. We can’t really bring milk up here to make genuine ice cream, so this is the closest I can get.”

“What’s so impressive about it?”

“Everything! I need to make some actual ice cream eventually to show you, but for now I only have sugared ice!”

Sollar was still confused at his lack of explanation.

“Tell me what ice cream is,” she demanded.

“Oh, I can! It’s like this cold treat that’s sweet, great for hot weather!”

Sollar thought back to the last thing she ate that was sweet and cold. It was the fruit that General Forge had given her.

“Is it like fruit?” she asked.

“Uh, well, a little. You can use fruit to flavor it, sure.”

Sollar gave a thoughtful nod. “Forr-ar gave me some fruit, earlier. I liked it.”

“General Forge again. He likes you?” Serclow asked.

Sollar nodded. “Yah, he does! He gives me some money and makes me buy food and sometimes gets treats!”

Serclow and Tila glanced at each other. They weren’t too sure what to think of Sollar at all, or her relationship with one of the Demonfolk Generals.

“If he was with you,” Serclow asked. “Where’s he now? How did you even get here?”

“I went with Riss-ar!” Sollar exclaimed. “In her barge thing!”

“...Sure, you were with Rissle earlier. That’s how you got to Fort Logger. But I’m guessing you met her at the barge docks upstream?”

The Demonfolk girl shook her head no.

“The barge what? No, I met her when I fell off the bridge thing!”

The silence in the room lasted for about ten seconds.

“What?”

Flaker, Tila, and Serclow uttered that simultaneously. But it was Tila who continued speaking.

“Say that again, you ‘fell off a bridge’?”

Sollar nodded. She stood up with one of the broken chair legs in her hand, to demonstrate what happened. “Yep! There was this big man who had metal armor stuff on him, and he was swinging this sharp sword thing like this—”

Using the chair leg in question, she demonstrated the sideswipe that she claimed to have narrowly avoided.

“And then like this!”

The Demonfolk girl then brought the chair leg onto the ground, as though hitting the floor with a hammer.

“Then, I was on this carriage thing with black rocks, and he hit it like this!”

She swung the chair leg around to hit it smack against the side of one of the damaged tables. The sheer amount of force she put into that swing shattered part of that leg, which she dropped onto the ground.

“And then!” she continued. “It spilled the black rocks everywhere, and I got a lot of energy!”

She grinned at the last statement. “And I got away!”

Serclow raised a hand up. “Hold up. Where does ‘falling off the bridge’ play into this?”

“I ran to the back of the rail engine!” she exclaimed. “But he kept on following me, and I reached the end!”

“So logically... you jumped off the bridge,” Tila finished.

However, Sollar shook her head no. “I didn’t jump. I fell! There’s a big difference!”

“Okay, you fell,” Tila continued. “Where was this General Forge who was supposed to... supervise you?”

Sollar gave a shrug, with both her shoulders. “I don’t know. He said he was going to get... what was it? His thingy... Man-drel. I don’t know what it is.”

“Mandrel...” Serclow muttered. “That’s the name of his halberd.”

“Okay, he went off to get his weapon,” Tila continued. “That doesn’t explain why he just up and abandoned you.”

Sollar tilted her head. “He just needed to get it! But he didn’t get on the rail engine, though.”

“We’re not gonna get a straight answer outta her, Tila,” Serclow sighed. “Sollar, the next big question: why did someone swing a sword at you?”

“I don’t know! I think he was angry at my Shov-ar.”

“Your what?” the Demonfolk man continued.

Sollar revealed the shovel that she kept on her back, of which neither Human, Demonfolk, nor Snow Spirit had ever seen before.

“She was carryin’ a shovel this entire time?” Flaker asked.

“Apparently so,” added Tila. “Why would someone be mad at you for that?”

“I don’t know!” Sollar exclaimed. “He just got mad and said that I was in trouble. But he didn’t get me!”

The Demonfolk girl proceeded to bound around the room, her voice becoming almost singsong.

“He didn’t get me! He didn’t get me!”

Despite her attitude over the incident she had allegedly been part of, the three weren’t so gleeful over the idea.

“There’s someone person going after her,” Serclow said. “For sure. Nobody just... attacks someone out in the blue.”

“You think? Nah, I bet they were just greeting her,” came Tila’s biting response. “Besides... maybe it could just be... I don’t know, a one-off attack?”

“Don’t take this lightly,” Serclow chastised. “I don’t think it could be a one-off thing, either. A random attack on a Demonfolk girl on the Frontier?”

“I’m not saying it’s not a bad thing!” the Human woman replied defensively. “And... well, I’m just trying to throw out reasons to rationalize it, y’know?

Serclow, on the contrary, shook his head no. “You can’t rationalize something like this. You said it yourself, even you can’t be angry at her.”

“That’s just my perspective. Other people would probably find her insufferable.”

“But attacking her with a weapon?”

The bickering between Serclow and Tila continued. Meanwhile, Sollar’s attention had shifted to Flaker, who was now gathering a small pile of snow in his hands. Flakes appeared to materialize out of thin air as it settled on his palms.

“Woah! Where does it come from?” Sollar asked.

“This? Snow comes from the air,” Flaker replied. “Snow’s made up of water, and there’s water everywhere.”

“In the air?” Sollar asked. She looked up, as if expecting to see it hovering around. “But why can’t I drink it?”

“Nah, you can’t drink air that’s in the water.”

After some back-and-forth between Tila and Serclow, the Demonfolk man looked over and immediately called Flaker to attention.

“Hey, Flaker. What do you think?”

The Snow Spirit shifted the goggles to his forehead. “What do I think? Of what?”

“The situation with Sollar, of course.”

Flaker blinked. “Not much, I s’pose.”

“Expected of a Snow Spirit,” Serclow muttered.

Flaker glared at Serclow, but continued. “Aight, if you want my opinion: I ain’t got one. If you want to help her, I’ll help her. If you don’t... actually, I do have an opinion. I think we should help her.”

“You changed your mind rather quickly there,” Tila said.

“Not changed. Just realized what I wanted to say halfway through speaking.”

“And of course, the Snow Spirit can’t make a straight decision, either,” continued Serclow.

“Well,” Flaker retorted. “Do you have an opinion? ‘Cuz it sounds like you do have one.”

“I do,” Serclow admitted. “I’m more leaning towards helping her. Demonfolk stick together, y’know? It’s someone else I’m more worried about.”

Both the Snow Spirit and Demonfolk stared at Tila, waiting for her answer. They both knew that the Human woman didn’t like Demonfolk all that much and were waiting for her judgement.

“...Oh, are you really gonna do this to me?” she asked. “Talk about peer pressure... Fine. I was sorta against it, but now I’m just barely willing to help her.”

“I trust her because I’m confident in Rissle’s judge of character.”

Tila shook her head. “There you go again, going on about Rissle...”

Flaker rested his head on the top-back of the chair he was sitting at, with his arms together. “She can’t walk down, of course. Hill’s muddy going to New Frontierland. She can take the log flume, but the water’s saved up for the logging operations.”

“And that costs money to refill, of course,” Tila replied. “Even though we had a pretty heavy rain recently.”

Serclow added his two cents. “A guy with a sword is chasing her. At this rate, New Frontierland is probably the safest place for this girl to be.”

“Money?” Sollar asked. “I have money.”

The Demonfolk girl grabbed the bag of clinking coins from her hip, the coins that General Forge had given her, and ripped the string from the top. Then, she proceeded to dump it right onto the table.

A variety of coins spilled out. Several were dull gray, others were a dull yellow-gold in color, and a few were a brighter silver.

“That’s... A lot of money,” Tila said. “Wait, are you serious in paying all this?”

“Wait!” Sollar exclaimed, lifting a finger to stop any further conversation. She sorted through the piles of coins and picked out all the small, dull-gray ones. And only the dull-gray ones.

She then pushed the rest of the coins towards the three.

“These, I can pay!”

All three were baffled. Serclow spoke up first.

“You... only took out the tin coins,” he replied. “Aren’t those the least valuable of any coinage?”

“I only need these gray looking ones here,” Sollar said. She pointed to the pile of small tin coins and large tin coins she made. It comprised only about a quarter of all the coins. “You can have the rest.”

“Are you... sure?” Tila asked.

“Yep! I’m sure!”

“Are you really, really sure?”

According to Sollar’s logic, she’s only ever used the tin coins to purchase anything. She has never witnessed the other types of coins used, with exception to the brass coins which were paid out to Mister Billers at Grand Elm.

However, she didn’t know any ‘Mister Billers’ to pay to, and the tin coins were what she used to purchase food. Therefore, the only useful coins were the ones she knew how to use: The ones that she used to buy food.

“Yes! Take these ones, I don’t want them,” the Demonfolk girl said. She shoved it in the direction of the three Fort Logger workers.

“This is at least a Great Electrum Coin’s worth of money...” Tila muttered.

“This is too much,” Serclow added. “We shouldn’t take it.”

“Unless—” Flaker interrupted. “Ya need to bribe an inspector when he comes up here and asks why our water tanks aren’t full capacity after the rain.”

Tila looked from Serclow to Flaker. The Ice Spirit had a point.

“Fine. I’ll take it,” Tila said. She swiped the coins off the table. “What genius idea do you idiots have?”

“I said earlier, the log flume,” Serclow continued. “It’s not safe, but it’ll Sollar down. It’s just an oversized waterslide, that is—”

“Waterslide?” Sollar asked. “I want to go! Yes, it sounds fun!”

Serclow almost recoiled at her enthusiasm. “It’s a bit dangerous...”

“So?”

Based on the look Sollar was giving the Demonfolk man, he wouldn’t be able to talk her out of it.

“Fine. Sounds like you wanna go rafting, so... guess we will.”