Rickshawwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

It’s even fun to say!

Now, had he ever driven one of these things before? Nope. Had he ever really, seriously thought about driving a rickshaw? Of course not. But that’s not important. This wasn’t the sort of dream you sit on like a hammock on a summer’s day, feeling it with your whole body as a long sigh escapes your lips. This one was quieter. Stealthier. Creeping in without you noticing. In the moment you see a video of a rickshaw driver carting a couple around some far-away city, it strikes. As you’re distracted by the sights and wonders of adventure, it slips past your guard and takes up residence in a silent corner of your heart. Waiting. Watching. Biding its time. For one day, you might find yourself looking at an unmanned rickshaw, and it’s only in that moment you’ll realize that you’ve always wanted to try driving one of those things.

Was he nervous about the possibility of running himself, Amali, and her entire collection of yarn into a wall? Absolutely. But fate, possibly feeling some remorse about the last half day or so, gifted Hazel with quiet backstreets to start his journey on. He braces his feet against the street, and leans, pouring a gradual stream of strength into the crossbar, until the sleepy wheels yawn and stretch and trudge their way forward. Then it’s step, step, step, slowly at first, feeling the momentum tug at his outstretched arms even as he keeps pushing forward. It wants to roll. It wants to sit upright. It’s not terribly interested in going much faster than a deerboy, but it could be convinced. Otherwise, well! It’s a fine day for bumbling about, driver, you just give it fair warning when you want it to make a change. 

The alleys wind up and down through the city, even before they reach the main road. Gentle, but mischievous. They’ll make him lean his whole weight forward, keeping that cart moving even as it longs for lower climates. They’ll promise him an easy time on the way down while whispering to the rickshaw that this would be a great spot to build up to a sprint, wouldn’t it? But they’ll have to try harder than that to find Hazel sleeping on the job. He plants one foot after the other in a steady rhythm, tensing his upper body and dampening the shock with his arms, and Amali won’t hardly feel a jostle. He lets the momentum carry them down, digging his heels in and leeching enough speed to keep from rolling out of control. Turn by turn, they make their way out of the alleys and towards the main streets. The pavement gets smoother as they go. He can’t feel so many bumps, traveling up the wheels, down the poles, and into his hands. 

By the time they reach the crowds, he’s learned how far he needs to pull and for how long to ease the rickshaw into a gentle stop. He’s learned roughly how much of a push it needs to get going, and that it’ll take less pushing to keep it going after that. He hasn’t quite figured out how wide this thing actually is yet. That’s okay though! He knows where everybody else around them is, and what they’re up to, so he can just give them as wide a berth as he can manage. No need to try anything too daring.

See, you have to be patient with crowds, especially when you want to go fast. There’s a flow to them. People follow the people in front of them. Groups stick together, not terribly minding how fast or slow they’re going. Streams branch off of the main flows, seeking faster paths. You have to keep an eye on what’s happening around you. If you’re being passed, give it a minute. See if it evens out. Crane your neck and see if you can spot the slowdown. Don’t weave, if you can help it. Angle yourself. Aim for where you want to be. Aim for where there’s going to be a gap. Ride the flows of the crowd, instead of fighting them. Get through as fast as possible, while causing no harm or concern to anyone else. For this is the way of moving through crowds, learned through many high school hallways and weekend mall trips.

They’re making good time. He knows, because they were behind that cart with the lanterns before, and now it’s far, far behind them. His starts and stops have been on point. He’s pulling a whole entire rickshaw all by himself, and his muscles shout out that they could pull like this all day. Flick-flick-flick goes his tail, poking out from his nice new clothes.

He’s doing [i]such[/i] a good job.

It takes until the lady next to him waves, at him, to realize he’s being talked to. It takes until the man gestures at his antlers for his eyes to light up in understanding. “Ohhhhhh, the antlers, right!” He laughs with only slightly more relief than necessary. “No, no, it’s no trouble at all, you’re good.”  In all the hubbub, he’d almost forgotten there were people who braved the Outside for a living, and sometimes came back changed. Venturer. He was a venturer. Right. “Sorry, I can’t say that I do,” he says easily. “I hope you two didn’t get caught up in all that mess last night.”

Because that’s the tune that he’s been working to all this morning. Isn’t Crevas wonderful? Isn’t it grand, to see a city still standing? Of all mornings, they’re stepping out into one where families walk safely down the road home, swapping stories of the festival, without a hunting howl to be heard. 

It’s a new day. How can he keep from humming while he works?