all the birds are singing

His journey across the grass was relatively uneventful. Luckily, there were plenty of pebbles and worn down nuggets of glass along the way that he could busy himself collecting, as he found he couldn't move all that quickly anyway. It didn't take long for Bren to reach the white structure's entrance, and soon he was squinting up at the small camera above his head, trying to appear as harmless as possible for the benefit of anyone watching. It wasn't difficult.

"Hello?" No answer. He pushed at the door, but it only swung open once he had turned the knob.

"Figures," he said, stepping inside. The building's interior felt smaller than it had looked on approach, every wall hidden by shelves and lab tables, and every flat surface on those shelves and tables stacked with papers, glassware, or both. It smelled musty and there was a thin layer of dust on everything. Perhaps because of this, Brenley felt right at home.

He spent another stretch of time searching every inch of the space, despite the threat of nightfall. When he was done, he had uncovered a new, clean outfit consisting of some pale tan pants, a matching vest with what seemed like hundreds of pockets, and a pair of elaborate goggles with separate lenses for sand and sun. He dressed quickly, keeping an eye on the doors and windows, and when he was done, Bren stepped in front of a mirror he'd found on the back of a storage closet door.

At first glance, he looked the same as he always had, but upon closer inspection, it was easy to see he had changed. His hair was longer, caked on one side with dirt, and his eyes were sunken slightly in their sockets, their once-bright blue faded to a shade approaching white. Muscles inherited from his father and largely unused for the first seventeen years of his life had gone back to that resting state, his noodly arms pale and unimpressive. He prodded at his skinny cheek. How long had he been asleep?

A hastily enchanted paperweight provided a steady light source as day faded to dusk, and now that he could see, Brenley got to examining the contents of his bag. Several decently sized stones were immediately spelled into miniature bombs, intended to scatter shrapnel on impact, but not for a very great distance. The smaller items were also enchanted, mostly with acid, but several were imbued with fire magic, for lighting things that needed lighting, or healing magic... just in case.

Bren had been casting for quite some time when his stomach rumbled insistently, breaking his concentration. It was a shame that this place appeared to be simply a working lab, a place people came to work but not to live. When he had searched it, there had been no sign of any food anywhere. He packed his things carefully and with little urgency, slipping the strap of his bag back over his shoulder and heading out into the darkness, dousing his light with a word as he went. The only illumination now came from the town, and he stood still for a time, letting his eyes adjust to the night this time instead of the midday sun.

There was movement through the air to his right. Brenley turned.

A tiny, clockwork hummingbird hovered in the air just out of reach. The boil held out his hand and it buzzed over to him, settling on his finger.

[ continued in you're gonna die ]