I saw the crows watching me through the windows of the rail carriage, their tiny black eyes staring into mine as the horses pulled us past. Another traveler had dropped an entire sack of grain along the path – likely one of the farmers en-route to the Tuesday morning market in front of the cathedral – and the crows had obviously gathered to pick over what remained. Any other bird would have scattered as we approached, but not the crows. They were fearless. They broke from their feast to stare us down as we passed by.

“Incredibly intelligent birds…” I murmured under my breath. Apparently Jerry had heard me over the clopping of horses hooves. “I would win against them in a fight” he quipped. I had no doubt that he would. His clothes were still rumpled, but he had somehow managed to get them smelling clean. His patchy hair was smoothed down and looked probably as tidy as it was able. He was polite enough to refrain from smoking in the carriage, but his pipe still perched, protruding from the corner of his mouth as if it might start puffing smoke of its own accord at any moment.

“I’ve been restless,” He stated. I had as well, but instead I answered by saying “I’ve been recovering.”

“You had reason.”

There were other passengers: A woman in dress pants with a small suitcase; a man who kept checking his pocket watch in spite of the fact that we were still an hour out from our first stop; an older gentleman with long white hair tied back behind his head and a grin far too enthusiastic for the dim and dreary day that was reluctantly unfolding before us.

I was anxious. It had been a month since I had stared down a wolf and I had been terrified then. …but at least then I had known what I was facing.