For the first time since I was a boy, I woke up in silence. No screams nor gunshots echoing through my nightmares. Even though I swear I could feel those very nightmares prowling at the edge of my mind like predator cats, I felt...strangely refreshed. A shame, what it took to get there. 

Clearly, I was laying down, head slightly inclined on what felt like a pillow, and a pleasantly cool sensation played across my cheeks and jawline. Soothing, like someone had placed a hand on either side of my face and was rubbing their thumbs back and forth.

"Did it work?" A familiar gravely voice asked.

"It seems to have. Heart's pumping, temperature is fine. We just have to see that he wakes up, eventually." Came a response in a voice I'd never heard before. It was feminine, ever so slightly accented in a way I couldn't place.

Opening my eyes, I found myself in a wooden container with a young woman leaning over the open top, hands placed on either side of my face. I could see some sort of spell, glowing blue and white, swirling around her fingers. Some errant strands lazily whirled away, flying to disappear back into the thin air from which they were drawn.  I couldn't tell what sort of spell was being cast, but it certainly felt agreeable. Her head was currently craned backward, assumedly towards whoever she was talking to, and leaving a blonde braid to hang down near my torso.

"We can't rush something like this. He has to wake up on his own, otherwise you might end up putting him into a torpor he never recovers from, wasting all our efforts." 

"The luxury of time is not one we have, if it comes to it we may have to-"

"I care not for what we 'may have' to do, Marshal. I will not be this close from walking a man back across the threshold of this life and the next, only to lose him because you got impatient.'' Her tone brooked no argument, so much so that I remained still for a few moments longer for fear of being accused of this 'Marshals' impatience. 

"Alright, alright, I understand. " Even when relenting the man's voice gave the impression of a stone wall yielding. Not diminishing your right answer, but giving no more ground than necessary. An awkward pause passed between the two before he continued, farther away than a moment before. "We're about a two days away from the next station. Last big town before it's nothin' but desert until we hit California. We'll stop there for supplies, find something to mount up on, and head towards Sariel's Rest on our own." 

"Thank you, Marshal. He should be up by the end of the day, if my math was right."

"Let me know if he does, I imagine he'll have some questions."

"Most certainly. Though I'll try to fill him in where I can."

"Much appreciated, Miss Ståmot."  

I heard the sound of a large metal latch being pushed up and a cacophony of wind tore into the space, completely filling the train car only to be silenced immediately after.

Now was as good a time as any to quit laying around, I supposed. 

Finding every part of my body stiff as all hell, I struggled to sit myself up. At first I thought the feeling was from laying on the wooden bottom of my container, but the feeling went deeper than that. The joints, even each individual finger and toe joint, felt like they had been replaced by sculpted stone replicas. 

Trying to force my muscles into action, I managed to leverage myself half over the lip of my wooden crate before toppling from it to the floor. Rather, almost to the floor as I plopped into a new and soft bed of snow underneath me, A strange addition for mid-July, but quite comfortable for the few moments it wasn't soaking through the clothes I was wearing. They weren't any of my clothes that I recognized either, and they certainly weren't what I was wearing when... my hand went to my throat as I struggled to sit up again. I could feel smooth skin, like it was stretched out or part of a newly healed scar.

"Couldn't wait just a moment?" Said someone with a touch of bemused frustration. For a second, what I was feeling for and the melting snow below me was forgotten as looked at the speaker. "What if you had fallen on your neck tumbling out of there?"

She was a young woman, fair-skinned like some of those of a Norse persuasion, her braid done in a way that would have fit a schoolteacher. She looked to be in the later part of her 20th decade, but I was fairly sure the prim look was making her look more mature than she was.

Her clothing was simple in the way of traditional clothing's intricacy and craftsmanship. A white skirt and sleeves, with a rich blue covering the torso and spilling down to the hem of the skirt. From the field of blue, branches and vines of embroidered holly and ivy grew across her front and around the rest of the dress as they danced with each other.

Despite the ornate decoration of her clothing, it seemed like she had determined to offer some further practicality to it with her clearly sturdy leather boots, the series of satchels belted around her waist, and the leather bag hanging from her shoulder.

"Apologies miss, I seem to be a little sore. I assure you any tumbling I did was unintentional." I said, trying my best to make myself less a fool in her eyes. Hard to do when the sudden snowfall was melting into the seat of my drawers.

"Intentional or not, let us avoid it in the future, yes?" She said just before rummaging around in a nearby crate and pulling out a leather satchel, like the kind a locksmith keeps his tools in. "You said you're feeling stiff?"

"Yes ma'am." 

"Where?"

"All over."

'Where, specifically." 

"Mostly in the joints. Feels like my muscles haven't moved in a week."

"That's because they haven't. We had to keep you in storage to assure that there weren't too many eyes on you until we left." She came back to crouch in front of me and gave a friendly smile. "I'd like to examine you though, make sure everything is working as it should."

"Oh, of course. How'd you manage to keep me asleep for a week?" I asked, she paused just as she grabbed the leather lip of the satchel. "Matter of fact, how'd you get me out of that rope without me gaining a few inches in height? I was pretty certain it was going to be my end there..." 

I chuckled. She didn't. I couldn't read the expression that spread across her face, but she leaned back onto her heels and have me an appraising look.

"The Marshal never explained properly, did he." The way she said it, it wasn't a question. "That man..."

Considering my last sentence, I didn't have a good feeling about what she was going to say. My mouth went dry at the expectation.

"How do you mean...?"

She looked a little sheepish as I asked.

"You see... we didn't get you out of the rope... for all intents and purposes, the whole crowd in central park saw your neck break.... because that is what happened. Afterwards we just collected your body from the police, loaded you into a coffin, and got tickets for the next train out west."

"So, you're saying I died?" A far more nervous chuckle slipping out as I asked. "If that's the case, then how are we, or rather I, sitting here and having this conversation? You didn't turn me into some sort of undead, did you?"

"Oh, no, of course not. The Marshal really didn't explain anything, did he?"

"If he was the man I woke up to outside of my cell, then he seemed like he was short on time.."

"Helvete, I'm sorry that all this is getting dropped on you all of a sudden, but I'm no necromancer, I promise." She said with a small smile as she grabbed my hand, turned it palm up and let my fingers fall open. The coin the Marshal had flicked to me sat shining in the lamplight. "The Marshal gave you something that was to hold onto your soul until we could get it back in place."

I picked up the coin with my other hand, appraising it. It still seemed like the tiny silver coin that had been thrown into my cell in the first place. 

"Truly? I didn't think something like that was possible..."

"Well, it's not, in the end." She said, resuming rolling her satchel out and grabbing a few tools from it. "Under normal circumstances, it would take me near two weeks to enchant something like that coin. Lucky for you, I had mostly finished that one when your case came to the Marshal's ears." 

She grasped the sides of my head without warning, turning it side-to-side to examine it. I let her work, partially out of surprise, as she spoke. Next she ran her hands where my throat met the base of my skull, then circled to the back of the neck until her fingertips touched. She repeated the motion a few times, pausing in places as something about what she felt caught her attention. 

"We knew that we had almost no chance of getting you out, your case had already gained too much attention. That left us with only one option, in the end." 

"To let the execution go through normally." 

"Correct. Please hand me your wrist." I did so, and let my eyes wonder around the train car as she continued. She felt for the pulse, then pulled a small object made up of white crystal rings connected together to make a sort of spherical cage that looked like it could hold a marble at most. While holding it above my wrist, she let it drop until it swung back and forth on a short gold chain.

Preceded by a cold breeze from nowhere, her Lorewinds swirled back into life around us in a dome, this time the white, greens, and blues gave the impression of standing amongst falling snow, large flakes coming to plop down lazily, all the while aurora light danced between them. Their unearthly beauty only accentuated by the stark white.

It reminded me of winters back home. 

"Luckily, I was able to gather the last of what I needed in fairly short order. One of the benefits of the modern magical world at work." She put the crystal sphere down, apparently satisfied with whatever information it imparted upon her. "Even so, we had little to no time left to get you the coin and so the Marshal moved heaven and earth to place it in your hand without leaving a trace."

"I'll have to thank him for his saving of my life, and vague instructions."

"You'll have plenty of opportunity once I've finished here." She once again placed her hands on the back side of my neck, and massaged the places that had given her pause the first time. Each spot felt cooled as she touched it. I shivered at the sensation, but the chill alleviated some of the soreness. As she worked, I could feel muscles move and roll, if only a bit. The movement itself was uncomfortable, but once it settled in place the relief was fantastic. "There we go, there's no risk of your head coming untethered from your body on it's own now. Everything is connected as it was before you ended up on the gallows."

"Well, I don't know wh-" I was interrupted by one last movement at the base of my skull, followed a clicking noise and a sharp pain that locked my muscles and froze my voice.

"Oh my! I think that was a final sliver of bone sliding back into place... My apologies, but now it's done " Thankfully, she hadn't stopped the massage like motion, and soon the pain faded completely. As it did, she removed her hands, only to be replaced by one of mine, absentmindedly rubbing in the same place. I knew where she had done magic work at a touch, each spot feeling like it had been subject to blustering autumn gales.

" Well, despite the rather intense twinge in the neck there, I don't know what to say miss..." 

"Think nothing of it, Mr. Gelt. I am Drífa Tanjasdottir Ståmot, but please, Drífa is just fine." Her original accent came through more as she recited her name the way that people who's name mattered did. It was a melodic sound, pleasant to hear, but I didn't grasp the importance. She seemed to do it more out of habit than an expectation for me to recognize it.

"I can't just ignore what you've done, Miss Drífa, and for a total stranger no less... Is there anything that I can do to balance the scales?"

"Just consider the Marshal's job offer, if anything. Other than that, I'm just glad that the spell worked in the first place... It was rather touch and go there for a moment."

"Hopefully it's apparent that I'm just as glad, considering..." I kept the smile on my face and laughed politely but I couldn't keep a twinge of buried shock from slipping through. She didn't say anything, but I could see in her eyes that she picked it up but mercifully let me have it with a look of sympathy. I looked away, a little red.

The moment stretched out of my comfort, then farther still. My eyes continued to wander as my mind refused to come up with anything to remove attention. Suddenly, my vision was pulled back to hers as she lightly gripped my chin and pulled me back to look her in her own intense and searching eyes.

"I, uh, I-" I could barely stammer out a response before she suddenly released me, and started packing up her satchel of tools.

"There we go!" She exclaimed, standing up and offering a hand. "Your pupils are functioning as they should. Unless you feel something wrong, I think you are as healthy as I can make you."

"Oh, O- of course. Thank you." I took her hand and stood. I brushed off my pants, once again noticing that I was in a funeral suit, and trying to ignore the melt-water soaking the backside of my legs. "Would you happen to have a change of clothes, I don't think I want to be walking around like I just stepped out of a coffin." 

I looked back at the box I had woken up in.

"Even if it might be accurate."

"We have a bit of a stash some of the marshal's men that are your size pitched together. Might be a bit ill fitting, but it's the best we have until we get into town." She lead me further into the car, where a large travelers trunk was shoved between a crate taller than I am and a safe. "In here. I must apologize, my ingredient storage the only chest we had that wasn't buried away." 

She hoisted the top of the trunk, revealing the set of scattered any messy clothes sitting on top a collection of vials and bottles containing a extensive collection of magical ingredients in a rainbow of colors and consistencies.

The clothes themselves were... fine. No tears any place. A bit worn at the joints, and frayed at the end of pant legs, sleeves, and collars. I'd need a new set when we got to town. 

A white button up, a sort of evergreen waistcoat, brown jacket, and a pair of deep blue jeans. The boots looked like they were taken from a dandy given the embroidery covering it, but would be all well and good if I wore the pant legs over top of them. It would be fine for as long as we were on the train, I supposed.

"I'll give you some privacy to get changed." Drífa said as she started to make her way towards the front of the car. "Oh, just make sure none of my vials have leaked onto anything. Some of those ingredients are rather caustic."

My concern heightened somewhat, I started grabbing the clothes as she opened the door with a rush of wind. Then I was alone. 

I kept rubbing at my neck without thinking about it. Despite the soreness being gone, the very implication of the scar tissue sat heavily in my mind. I couldn't even say I'd been close to death anymore, I just fell straight into her arms without an idea of what was happening like I was trying to continue some sort of grim familial tradition. 

I pulled my hand away with some mental effort and started removing the funerary suit. Once I'd stripped down, and lamented the fact that I was missing my own underclothes. It's just not right to be wearing underwear you don't recognize at all. 

Just as I stripped down, the sound of wind came back into the train car. I just about jumped out of my skin. 

"Mr. Gelt! I forgot one thing!" Drífa's voice shouted over the sudden din. I scrambled to find where I had placed the donated Union Suit as the wind was cut off by the shutting door again. "I didn't ask if you talked with any Lorewinds!" 

It must have slid between the two boxes I spread them out on. Straining to reach into the space between, so constrained I could only fit the small of my wrist between before having to try and strain farther. 

"Oh, uh, yes I do in fact talk with a few!" Shoving one box aside the inch I could manage, I reached a little farther in, got ahold of cotton, and pulled it out as quick as possible. Standing up I tried to shove my legs inside, nearly falling over as I did. 

"Truly? In that case, it looks like my bevy of tests isn't quite done yet. Oh-" The sound of her rounding the corner of the boxes made me finish the process all the quicker, then turn around even faster. Drífa looked a little surprised, maybe with a fleeting touch of color to her face but maybe she was just out of breath. I don't know why she would have been. "I should make sure you're still in contact with those winds..." 

Cheeks burning, I quickly pulled on the shirt. Nearly tore a sleeve off when I missed the hole for it. From one of her pouches, she pulled a stiff leather case. From the case, came a pair of reading glasses. Placing them on the bridge of her nose, and furthering the impression of a librarian, she looked at my and made an encouraging motion.

"Just run yourself through some spells, if you will. I'll just monitor the Winds as you do. Try something quick but simple, first." 

"Yes, ma'am"

To say that what Drífa's question implied I may have lost scared me doesn't begin to cover the cold dread that curled around my heart with a snakes coil. I would not lose my connection to the winds of magic I had cultivated this easily. Not now, not ever, not under the pain of death I had already felt.

With a tremor I hoped wasn't noticeable, I placed my pointer finger against the surface of a nearby crate, one tall enough where I couldn't have reached the top if I tired, and cast my othersenses feeling out to find the Winds I knew.

Magic, in the sense of 'feeling' it, can be difficult to grasp for those that have not interacted with it directly. If you haven't heard the secrets of the Lorewinds (of which I heartily encourage everyone who's eyes find this memoir to try and do so), and thusly haven't exercised an othersense, magic looks purely mechanical. Mages and witches wave their hands, or toss ingredients into the air, maybe say a few words in a tongue beyond your understanding, then reality seems to break beneath their fingertips.

Gravity reverses, flames roar from nowhere, or the air solidifies into a wall. 

In reality, it's far more tactile.

As my othersenses reached out, I was looking for many things at once. Each Wind has it's own earmarks, and each individual will pick up on different aspects even in reference to the same wind. A scent, a sound, the movement of the wind itself.

I searched about, practically rummaging through the Winds that naturally crowded the train car like the various winds of air and earth, but found nothing. 

I ignored the extra bloom of concern. Otonia, the Gold Wind, liked to act aloof. Dancing around my othersenses until I'd find it. Emphasis on the 'act' there. She hadn't failed to come when I asked yet.

Given the situation I was in, dying and all with the idea of my magic being gone having floated a moment before, there was a moment of worry when Otonia wasn't as close as usual. A bead of sweat formed on my forehead and quickly trailed down as I considered that the Winds may really have left me when I crossed that graven threshold.

Only one thing allayed my suspicion and following sadness. The faintest scent that I only picked up because of my own intimate familiarity with it.  

The deeply rich scent of vanilla, dancing around my othersense playfully. 

Otonia seemed to take note just as I recognized that she was once again messing with me, bounding to me with what may have bordered on excitement.

Don't tell her I noticed. Seriously. She hates it when I point things like that out.

Where my finger made contact with the crate, my own winds of magic swirled up from under my fingertip, twined their way around, before twisting away and fading into the open air.

The familiar gold-amber hue washed all my concerns away as Otonia left iridescent motes in it's wake. From the point of my finger, trailing out as if painted by masterful brushstrokes, the material changed from pine woodgrain to metallic gold. My signature, gilt in polished gold.

Drífa looked as if she was going to float away, the smile on her face was so broad

"Oh by Freya's hair-" she exclaimed, still holding the pair of spectacles to her eyes and trying to divide her eyesight between watching my signature write itself through transmutation and properly holding a conversation. "-that's beautiful, Mr. Gelt!"

"Why thank you, Miss Drífa." I couldn't help but feel a touch of pride when this trick got peoples attention.

"You talk with the Wind of Midas, I take it?" 

"That's correct, among a few others.''

"Very impressive... I've never encountered anyone else who did." 

"I hear we're a rare breed." 

"Rare indeed, and I know something about the feeling." 

"Really? What do you-"

"Let's try something a bit more intensive. You said you speak with multiple Winds? Try using them in tandem, or in quick succession with each other." She very pointedly moved on. I'd call her rude, but if someone brings me back from the dead with my heart still beating, I figured I can forgive them a touch of social brusqueness. 

"Of course, of course."

At a gesture, my golden signature turned from solid to liquid. Dribbling down the side of the crate in the consistency of mercury, yet leaving no trace of it's passing other than the precise cutout of my name left in the side of the box, before traveling along the floor to gather in a perfectly round puddle between my feet. Once it was all there, the center started to quickly rise as if tied to a string and pulled upward until it floated in a baseball sized sphere on front of my chest.

I held my hand below it and it sank down into my palm. I closed my fingers around it, then made a small tossing motion, like someone standing and throwing dice at a waist high table. The moment before I opened my hand golden light flashed between my fingers, then I loosed what I held. 

Drífa flinched, nearly sending her set of spectacles flying, like liquid gold was going to splash across her, but when she felt nothing she cautiously looked back. 

''Coins?" She asked, reaching out to grasp one of the three floating silver dollar sized discs I had formed. They were perfectly smooth, with no ostentation to them. It kept itself just tantalizingly out of her reach, and I couldn't help but give a cheeky grin. She noticed, and gave a grin of her own in return. 

"Yes ma'am. Twenty-four Karat, each of them. I know they're nothing very impressive on their own, but add a little magnetism-" I set the coins into motion, no hand movement necessary, dancing through the air like songbirds chasing each other. "-And you can do some rather useful tricks with just a little material.''

The coins suddenly took up a rapid pace, still, maintaining their little dance, before suddenly peeling off from one another in opposite directions. 

One easily floated downward to land in the palm I held out for it. The other two gained further speed, becoming hard to see with the naked eye, before diving down in tandem with just enough space between them to pass over Drífa's shoulders from behind. Strands of her blonde hair fluttered up in the wake of the coins.

To her credit, she didn't flinch this time.

The flying coins whipped past me in the same way, and in the same moment I turned around, the coin that had come back to my hand now resting on a thumb tucked into closed fingers. I made the same gesture I would have if I was trying to flip a coin to someone else. Instead of spinning through the air and clattering across the ground uselessly, the coin left my hand like a bullet leaves the barrel of a gun. 

The flying coins thudded into the wood of the trainwall, perfectly perpendicular to each other, sinking so far in that they had to be sticking out the other side. The flicked coin landed true in the same instant, right between the other two. It left a perfect circle clear punched through the wall, the outer edges of the hole nested precisely between the embedded coins.

Perhaps that was more showy than necessary, but can you blame me? Exultation and revelry in something almost lost will make you a little improper. Not to mention, I've found it rather hard to not look overly showy when you're throwing gold around. Comes with the territory, I suppose. 

I looked back to Drífa with an admittedly childish smile on my face. Like the kid that gets to show their clean room before their parents can use it as punishment. She smiled back, equally happy that her process hadn't severed my magical connections as I was, and politely clapped at my demonstration. Only a second of clapping was enough to bring me back into myself and brought a redness to my cheeks again.

I was just glad that my earlier embarrassment was now forgotten.

"Well... Looks like I've still got my magic." I said, making a gesture that brought the coins back in my direction with a little puff of splinters as they yanked themselves out of the wall. 

"That it does. Congratulations, Mr. Gelt. I can't imagine what it would be cut off from the winds..." She trailed off, casting her eyes to the floor and gripping her elbow. A lack of confidence that seemed odd for her, even in the short time I'd known here. She didn't seem to know what to say farther than that. I sure as hell wouldn't.  

"Well..." I began, the three coins landing neatly on top of each other in my hand before turning back into liquid form and flowing across me with purposeful direction. "No sense in dwelling on it. I've got my magic, and I don't know about you, but I am thirsting and starving like I haven't eaten for a week."

"Hm? Oh, of course Mr. Gelt, please follow me-" Drífa quickly shook herself from whatever thoughts were picking at her and lead me towards the door of the train car. "You must be starving! The dining car is just this way. I'm sure the Marshal can wait for a time so."

The flowing gold on my hand gathered on on my ring finger, formed itself into the shape of a ring, then settled back into a solid. The face of the ring was square, bearing the image of an angel with her wings splayed and sword in hand. 

"You know? Now that you say that, I might be the hungriest I've ever been."