Serial Micro Fiction: Gears of Myrekal – Part 2

Kezik held the feather close to his face, examining it through eyes still encrusted with sleep. He squinted, memorizing every detail. The answer – it had to be here somewhere. There was always an answer.

“Who are you?” he whispered to the feather both expecting an answer, and not.

He turned it around to examine the other side. It clearly was not a natural feather. It was created, and someone had created it. Every race had different styles, different characteristics about their art. Dwarves were unmatched in nearly all things gem-related. The Noms had no equal when it came to culinary arts. The flowing nature of the elves had an elegance like no other.

Kezik blew softly on the feather. He watched as each bristle fluttered, noting the direction and the resiliency. It was well-crafted, no mark of inadequacy at all.

Wait! There it was! As each bristle returned to its place, a message appeared on the feather, for but a fraction of a second. That brief glimpse was enough to identify the race of the maker. None were as detailed and mechanically-inclined as a gnome.

Except, a Vaki.