FSE

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_ Courier _

I had a problem. A big one. So carried away, so firmly in the thrall of tourist mode, I'd managed to lose my bearings completely. Certainly, I was no stranger to wandering off and going astray during holiday expeditions, but this was far, far different from anything I'd faced before. This was Pozrun. Zolnia. A place built for people much larger than a Polcian beagle like myself. Gosh, I'd gotten in way over my head and then some...

It was about when I made it to an open air market that I realised the extent of my issue, gigantic stalls filling a huge cobblestone plaza, offering serving areas for large and smaller patrons alike. Surrounding them on all sides, lines of quaint, narrow five-storey buildings reached up high, their pinks, ambers, mints and creams glowing in the springtime sun. Iron wrought awnings complemented shop fronts on ground level, housing bakers, florists, and other businesses the names and signs of whom I couldn't understand. It all demanded photo after photo. An opportunity to peer through and capture a window into a past two, three hundred years previous, filled with huge locals offering their own picture-worthy spectacle from my vantage level with their shins.

These railed off, sheltered walkways moving underfoot proved great for scooting along while admiring the local architecture, taking my place as just one in a heaving crowd of Polcian-sized individuals making their ways around the city. The various sounds and diverse scents proved a stern test for the senses. Almost as much of a challenge as actually navigating these speedy, maze-like paths, trembling softly from the giant footfalls of those milling around them.

But yes, the problem. It'd be fair to say that indulging in such tangents had contributed to it greatly. So captivated by my fantastical surroundings, I realised way too late that I'd veered far from my chosen course towards the observatory. According to the guide I'd consulted earlier that morning, I merely needed to make two 'exchanges' following a short walkway ride south from my hotel. That would then take me straight to the underground metro station on the riverside. Finally, I'd take five stops along the western line, leaving me a matter of minutes from my destination on the outskirts of the city centre. Easy enough in principle. Anything but in practice.

Frantic and congested, with numerous stairways and off-ramps permitting detours onto other 'routes' both above and below ground, none of these walkways offered much by way of maps or signage that might help direct me. Plus, what hints there were available were written in Zolnian and Zolnian alone. Even with my back pocket phrase book, in the bustle of rush hour, I didn't stand a chance at following them.

So, after what must've been thirty minutes of rolling and who knew how many half-aware exchanges onto alternate walkways, I'd seen no sign of the river, a metro station, or even the space-scraping modern towers of the city centre. Only that open market, followed by even more bright old buildings. Row after row of them. Those thick crowds turned thinner the further I rolled, the walkways themselves becoming far more open and exposed. Wide roads became smaller sidestreets, lined by tightly-knit three and four-storey apartment buildings painted in various pastel shades of orange and yellow, giant-scale cars belonging to their occupants parked in bays outside. It took effort to crane my neck up towards the rooftops, rivalling as they did the tallest skyscrapers packing the centre of my home city. I didn't have time to marvel at their designs or the size difference though. I'd stumbled way outside my comfort zone. This was a problem that required solving, and solving swiftly.

I stepped off the moving belt, almost stumbling onto the static metal platform running alongside it. My first thought was to check the map on my phone, hoping that might help me find wherever I'd ended up. I might've chided myself for not doing that sooner, if not for being too busy growling at the apparent failure of my phone's GPS instead. The grey dot showing my location at the hotel refused to update, hanging there... frozen... unwilling to help.

I threw it back into my pocket, affording myself a moment to take stock. Here I stood, some aimless Polcian beagle atop a wallside pathway, gawking around at nothing and noone. Those heaving crowds from just minutes prior had faded into nothing. I must've taken one almighty detour...

Okay, don't panic, I told myself. I couldn't have gone that far. Riding a short way back along the route I'd taken seemed a sensible idea, stopping again at a walkway crossroads set near the corner of an actual crossroads. The path I'd travelled down dipped and ran beneath one of these sidestreets, reemerging again on the other side... Somehow, I hadn't even noticed going underground.

In all four directions, it was the same scene; relatively narrow, sleepy roads lined with pretty apartments. If I'd been in a better, less anxious mood, I may have snapped off another picture or two.

"Oh, I don't believe this," I mumbled to myself, still checking my phone in ever fleeting hope that it might have found itself. "What a bother... I should have stuck to going on that tour bus."

A dim, distant thumping disturbed my self-flagellation, as well as more and more of the peace, joining the most gentle of trembles starting in the metalwork beneath my feet. Each kept to a rapid rhythm, unmistakably footsteps, steadily growing louder and stronger. I arrowed in on their source near-instantly; a young, well-dressed fox with a shoulder bag rushing across the street towards me.

A car approaching him at the junction braked hard, blaring its horn, earning an outraged bark and heavy gesticulating back in return. No need to speak Zolnian to get the gist.

I watched the lad go, half jogging, bounding up onto the pavement beside the walkway to carry on down the street. As I stood here at knee-height, he flashed me the briefest glance on his way past, wall-mounted metal vibrating from his pounding yet unremarkable footsteps. This Normaliser whatsit I picked up at the airport my first day here really was something. Like magic, it could tone down the noise these building-sized Visoka made to sound, well, normal.

The show drew to a hurried close. That golden-furred fox marched on down the street, fast swaying tail matching his pace. I decided to give my phone another try. Perhaps I'd be fortunate enough to find the GPS had returned from its own vacation.

I had enough time to watch that irritating grey dot stick uselessly in place... before realising that those dull footsteps and soft trembling hadn't faded completely. In fact, quite the opposite. They'd dialled up on both fronts.

I looked back up again. Jolted in shock. A thick shadow washed over me. Then pulled me ever deeper.

My neck fur jumped to stand on end, whole body tensing and trembling, ears hanging even further past my cheeks. I had to grip my phone tight just to keep from dropping it to the walkway. The fox had returned, strolling cautiously, watching me curiously. Time stood still. I froze along with it. As calm and as docile as he seemed, after only three days here, I still couldn't feel anything but uneasy at a five-storey somebody striding right at me.

My tail tucked to find a home between my legs. I wondered if he'd noticed. "Uh... H-Hello there. Good morning."

He stopped to leave his knees right in front of me. Standing oh so tall, he peered down from towards the sky, his tilting head blocking the light and the view beyond.

"Can I... help you?"

Words came back in response, rapid and unintelligible. Again, this Normaliser did a wonderful job of softening his voice and, I suppose, boosting mine along with it.

"Sorry." I stepped back closer towards the wall. Not that it offered any more space, or light. "I don't understand."

"-Zolnie?-"

That much I could understand. "N-No... I'm not... I am not Zolnian. I am from Linvendia. Polcia."

His eyes narrowed. Dread rose from the pit of my stomach. "-Polciski?-"

"Yes-- or rather, uhm..." Stars above, how could such simple words be so taxing? "-Tak... Polciski.-"

Those narrow eyes rolled, followed by a sigh hard enough to blast down over me like a stiff breeze. "Tourist?"

"Yes."

"Polcia."

"Yes."

"Speak only Polcian, yes?"

"Yes!" I cheered with far too much enthusiasm. "Sorry-- or I should say...- __Izvinite_ -_."

He snorted. I didn't expect that. "That is Velikan."

"Oh--"

"I speak that also." He brightened, unleashing a torrent of slightly different sounding garbling. My blankness earned a smile at least. "Hah. Okay... Only Polcian."

My various guards dropped one by one. Even under this heavy, overwhelming shadow, the charm and swaying brush of the lad casting it helped prise me from the wall. "Did... you need help?"

His ears perked. I had trouble seeing them all the way up there. "Help?"

"Yes." I pointed at him. "You. You came back."

"No. It is you."

"...Sorry?"

"You. Lost?"

My head was starting to hurt. Almost as much as my poor neck from how high it had to crane. This was progress though. Language barrier or not, he'd definitely read me right. "Yes. I am lost."

If I thought my head was aching before, it found itself a whole new level of soreness once this lad and I really got talking. We spent a good minute or so trying to scale this barrier in an attempt to meet one another, myself doing what I could to explain where I wanted to be, and the fox doing his brow-furrowing best to process and follow.

Observatory, I said. Two, three, more times. But no matter how I tried to explain and to frame it, he just couldn't seem to follow me the whole way. At least, not until I turned to charades, literally acting as if I were peering through a telescope. Daft, embarrassing... but effective.

"_-Obserwatorium?-"_he answered, finally, wearing pride for himself that I needn't require an apparatus to spot.

"Yes." Really? After all that, that was the Zolnian for 'observatory'? "-Obserwatorium.-"

The lad looked puzzled and then some, tugging the strap of his shoulder bag tighter. "Day? No stars."

"It's supposed to be one of the best preserved examples of early neoclassical architecture you can find," I insisted, getting nothing but a blink and the twitch of an ear in return. "I... like architecture."

"...What?"

"Observatory!" I snapped louder than I should have. After all, he was trying to help... and he was awfully huge, too. "Please."

"Okay, okay." Up went his paws. "-Obserwatorium- at day. Okay."

"Thank you."

"It is far." Finally, he bent down a little closer, filling even more of my view in the process. "I can... uh, direct."

"That would be grea--"

"But better to take."

"Pardon me?" I'd wager he understood more from me tugging at my shirt than from my words. "Take? Me?"

"Here is Boryszyn. South." He looked off up the road, gesturing far towards the distance. "-Obserwatorium-... Observatory is Andrukow. West. Far."

I had myself a dilemma and then some. Immediately, my thoughts returned to all the travel tips and advice I'd consulted in the lead up to this trip. Along with all the basics, the one pointer that seared itself deepest into my mind was to 'take care around the giant locals'. Now, I suspect that referred more to their steps and their general largeness... but it wasn't the largest leap of logic to assume that applied to what one might call 'unsolicited lifts' too. After all, that couple from Meerland hadn't long since made the news after getting abducted during a holiday here. For sure, I had no desire to follow their lead and find myself locked and hidden away, only being freed after giving up all the money on my travel card...

But, on the other paw... This lad, dressed up nice with smart slicked headfur and an awfully polite demeanor... He simply didn't present as a threat. Besides, from what I could gather, I'd be finding my way out of this Boryszyn place with him or not at all. "I'd appreciate tha--"

As it turned out, the decision wouldn't be mine to make alone. I barely had a chance to confirm before his enormous brown paws swooped down, gathering me up into them.

"Come," he said, taking great care in shifting me into one seat-sized palm, forming a guard with the other. "I take to my work. Observatory close. Easy."

The shock hit hard. Beyond his guarding paw ahead, all around, the whole world rushed downwards, as if I found myself riding the fastest open air elevator imaginable. My head went fuzzy, my stomach queasy. Before I could gather and process everything, I had already thrown myself down onto my frontside, wrapped both arms around his wrist, and begun clinging on for dear life.

He started to snicker, loudening the higher he took me. "The first?"

"Wh-What?"

"In paw. First?"

"Oh." Sprawled out as I was, catching the faint aroma of toast and raspberry jam, I wondered when he'd last washed said paw. "Yes. First time."

"Okay." The sinking world slowed, then finally stopped. At last, I could let go of him. "Bag?"

I appreciated his efforts with Polcian more than I could express, but my word, these one and two word statements bordered on cryptic. "Pardon?"

"Bag." He'd lifted me to his stomach, right beside that shoulder bag. His guarding paw moved away, taking its topside zipper between thumb and finger. The penny less dropped, more tumbled.

"No, no. Not in there." I scrambled up onto my feet... then sank back to my knees once I saw the scale of the drop beyond his palm. "I'll walk. It's okay. Tell me the way. I'll make it on my own. Please. Please."

No chance did he understand any of what I'd blurted out at him. Still, with both of my paws up and waving, he and I stopped halfway to his shoulder bag. "No. No worry."

"Then... what?"

He chuckled, teeth firmly on display. "Come. Look."

My new tour guide eased me over to that giant bag of his, bigger even than the wardrobe in my bedroom. A strong breeze blew past; a stark reminder of my position a house's height above the pavement. I grabbed his palmpad with both paws, clenched, claws aiding my grip. He didn't seem to mind.

"Okay?"

Moving above the zipper, I could finally see it left barely quarter of the way open. The opening itself proved far too dark to see much of what it contained, other than the top corner of what resembled a laptop computer. Gosh... the idea of that tipping and pressing up against me didn't aid my confidence. 'Okay' he asked? "Not really."

"Okay," he replied, lowering and tilting his paw in tandem.

"No, no!"

"Yes, yes," he rallied back, smirking, shaking his head. "Come. Soon, I am late."

The risk to his punctuality wasn't close to enough motivation to let go of his paw. In fact, the further it tipped, the tighter I clung. Ultimately however, I couldn't resist the ever-building force of gravity.

My grip faltered. Failed. I dropped. Fell away from his palm. Slid down his fingers. Bumped over his fingerpads. In the time it took to blink, I found myself sailing through the air. The dark opening below beckoned me. Welcomed me... and caught me way sooner than I expected.

I hit some kind of fabric compartment... almost like a black parachute sewn to the inside of his bag. As I sat there, suspended, my head and chest just about clear of the threshold... I pondered on how much this all seemed made for me. "What in the wide world...?"

"Good?" Craning my neck, twisting around, I got as good a view of his grin that I could. "Yes?"

"Good, yes," I replied, almost reclining back in this 'seat' with how hard I sighed. "Thank you."

"No worry. You are okay." He turned, shifting both his bag and I to his side, taking the first of many long strides along the pavement. "We go."

My sudden, newfound escort hastened along the street, carrying me way faster than the walkway could manage and then some. From this new, head-spinning perspective, I found myself treated to a far different, borderline surreal view of the world around me.

Sitting level with this lad's waist, three Polcian storeys or so above ground, that walkway I'd become accustomed to looked awfully small, running not far above the base of walls, dipping beneath the occasional apartment building entrance.

Away from the apartments, the infrastructure, I could see so much more of the neighbourhood itself. The roadside trees for example no longer seemed quite so staggering, shading the odd parked car that I could now see towards the tops of. Ahead of us, at the junction not so far away, I spied an apron-donning otter carrying a stack of chairs out from a corner cafe, preparing an outside patio area for the opening of business.

My ears lifted, tracking something other than the plodding of my guide's hurried footsteps. A distant grinding echoed from behind, growing louder, rumbling along the road. Blocked off by the overshadowing frame beside me, I didn't get a chance to find the source until it had passed us. A five-strong group of teens on skateboards rolled on down the street, cheering and hollering, having the times of their young lives. This area of the city had sprung so vividly to life now that I'd made it up higher. Far more so than when I had to rely on skulking around knee-high to the larger locals.

But, as thrilling as it was to be afforded such a far superior position, the idea of reverting to photographer-mode to take full advantage didn't cross my mind once. Rather, all thoughts remained fixed on keeping a tight grasp on the fabric around me.

As careful as this big fox was attempting to be, strides rapid but steady, racing us past building after building, it wasn't enough to prevent his bag from developing some considerable momentum. With each heavy shift of his hip, I swung away from his side, slowing, stopping, then returning to bump solidly against it, waiting for another shift to repeat the process, over and over. I'm sure that to my guide, it barely registered, but to me, smaller, riding front and centre, bouncing and swaying in my seat, it quickly became something resembling a theme park ride gone awry. At least, that's what my stomach told me as we drew nearer to that cafe on the corner.

It was about when we did make it to the junction, passing right in front of the entrance to that cafe, that I lost my nerve completely. The bag drifted wide, swinging hard, its contents audibly shifting a hair's breadth beneath me. For a split second, I could picture the strap snapping, sending both the bag and I hurtling towards that otter now tending to a scaled down outdoors seating section. Again, the sight of him holding and setting paw-sized chairs was another photo op lost. Instead, with my everbuilding discomfort overriding gallantry, I turned to say something to this big... huge... gigantic fox offering me aid. Oh, stars above...

"Excuse me," I called out, right before momentum threw me against the inside wall of his bag. "Can you... be gentler?"

He stopped. We stopped. Not far from the road crossing. I wasn't certain whether I could link it to my outcry until he shifted to peer down at me again.

"I don't want to fall."

"Hmm?" I could see his ears turning to me and twitching, thoughts near visible behind his eyes. Much as he wanted to, he really couldn't understand what I was saying.

"Erm..." Peering around for I wasn't sure what, I wondered how best to get my point across. As the bag finally stopped its swinging, it dawned on me. I grabbed one side, watching him watch me, putting on an over-the-top grimace while feigning to hurl myself clean out of this seat.

"Ahh!" His ears jumped all the way upright, corners of his mouth rising along with them. He shifted a paw my way, extending a finger, tapping gently at the edge of the opening ahead. "Pull."

I didn't process that right away; far too busy watching that finger-sized claw rising and falling, before eventually lifting completely. It was then that I could see what he'd shown me, clear as day. The end of a cord waited there, right where the bag ended and the fabric compartment began.

"Go. Pull."

I did so, grabbing it and yanking hard, well aware of my place in a world far bigger than I. Not that I needed to.

In a flash, everything closed in around me. First instincts sent me skittering, struggling, watching and feeling blackness hurtling towards and wrapping itself all around me. Trapping me. My heart began racing. It'd been a trick. Stars above. This fox, he was no guide at all...

Those thoughts, fears, they didn't last long. The panic subsided the second I realised that the fabric around my waist wasn't trapping me, but rather holding me. I could move my arms above and my legs below, but for what appeared to be security, shifting side to side proved off limits... Perfect for a swinging bag.

"Good?"

"Y-Yes." I pawed at the fabric guard, examining its sturdiness. My heart slowed back towards resting. "Thank you."

He smiled, nodded, leaving me to my own devices as he started on his way again, stepping off of the pavement to hurry us across the street.

We weaved our way through these neat, peaceful streets with little more by way of event. That new support I had for myself definitely helped see to that, as did a marked reduction in the speed of my guide's strides and the sway in his bag.

Even with his reduction of pace, it didn't take us long to make it to a metro station, entrance tucked away where one apartment building ended and a small row of stores began.

The lad dashed on down a hillside's worth of stairs, generating vibrations that tested even this sturdy layer of protective fabric. That aside, the scene that steadily revealed itself as we descended further underground contained little by way of wonder.

I'd used plenty of scaled-down stations of this kind back home in Arlone, and a fair number again during my short time spent here in Pozrun. Not to say that all novelty had gone of course. After all, I'd never entered a station while riding in a bag before; an experience that soon made the long, Polcian-sized escalator section at the far side of the stairway seem far less unorthodox.

Soon, we'd diverge from the railed off, scaled-down sections completely. While those smaller escalators dove even further underground, my guide fox whisked us off into the unsettling, unexplored reaches of a Visoka-sized station entrance.

We moved through a relatively narrow stretch of this underground path, surrounded by brick walls and a concrete ceiling. A suit-wearing stoat in a rush raced on past us, briefcase in paw, barely waiting for those imposingly huge, metallic metro gates ahead to open for him. I thanked the stars that my guide wasn't running as late as that gentleman seemed to be.

I settled back as we made our approach, trying my best to settle my head, too. Scaled-up or not, sitting in this confined space, surrounded by ever increasing numbers of Visoka-sized locals left little room for peace. I felt exposed, unable to stop theorising that one misguided swipe of their handpaws might easily connect with this bag, if not me along with it. How careful were all these larger locals really being? And was my supposed guide _really_taking me where I wished to be? I'd never actually said 'yes' to leaving that walkway... A walkway that I was increasingly wishful to return to, truthfully. Especially so in the moment a portly deer came lumbering past in the other direction, close enough to blast my muzzle with the gust of air trailing in his wake.

With a few more Visoka-sized steps, we made it to the leftmost of three entrance gates, closest to the divide between those offering an exit.

My guide couldn't have been more than a half-second from gaining us access when a booming, aggressive voice stopped him dead in his tracks. He froze. I froze. The both of us gasped and trembled in unison.

My gaze shot to the right, finding a large, frowning bear in a green metro uniform. He held a stern paw up beyond the crowd filtering through the gates between us, calling out something fast and incomprehensible. Apparently, my guide had trouble understanding him too.

The worker puffed out his cheeks, giving a grumble I could see if not hear. He effortlessly parted the double line of passengers, watching me while escorting my escort out of the queue forming behind us.

I had no idea what to think, peering up at a huge fox and an even bigger bear squabbling in the middle of this busy, stuffy underground station. There was noise and movement everywhere, disorientating. Even if I could have processed the increasingly forceful words they shared, I'd have had a hard time following them. And, if that wasn't bad enough, it was about then that the metro bear hauled his overwhelming green-clad stomach towards me, peering down from way up towards the ceiling.

He said something. Hard and abrupt. A frown persisted as he repeated himself, firmer still. Of course I could tell I'd made him unhappy, but by the stars I hadn't the faintest clue why.

"-Polciski, Polciski-," my guide called out, stealing both my and the worker's attention. Turning to me with wide eyes, the fox pulled out and held something up in his paw... A yellow card... A travel card. "Have?"

"Oh!" At last, everything clicked. I shifted as much as I could in this seat of mine, freeing enough space to throw my own arm down to my pocket. I dug deep, pushing past my wallet, grabbing and retrieving my pass in the hopes I'd end all this awkwardness. "Here!"

"No." The worker waved it away, pointing at the gate. "Scan, scan."

I started to rise a second before I could take in that grunted, heavily accented command. My guide had taken his bag with both paws, lifting it higher and higher, until my eyeline reached the top of the gate's side divider. He stepped forward, tilted me slightly, showing me the two illuminated scan pads lying in wait. No need for further instruction.

I reached out with my card, slapping it to the Polcian-sized scanner, waiting, praying, grateful for a shrill double beep of success. Following right after, the lad placed his own giant card on the giant scanner, earning that same double beep and a whooshing parting of the gate wall ahead.

He rushed us on through, arrowing straight towards the stairs leading down to the platform. We lost that grouchy bear in a sea of passengers. Not a great shame, I concluded. "Thank you."

He grinned down at me, nodding as we started our final descent. "Need for exit also. Okay?"

"Okay." I enjoyed an easier breath. "Got it."

Just like the day before, and the day before that, I found myself bumping along on a Pozrun metro car. On this occasion however, my surroundings were familiar but oh so different.

Instead of being hidden away in a packed, scaled-down passenger area below, I had all the space I could have asked for here in the main section above.

My guide had taken a seat beside the enormous carriage doors, settling his bag in his lap. All around, I found giant Zolnian after giant Zolnian, standing tall in the aisle, by those doors, or filling the seats opposite us. This car couldn't have been halfway full, but even so, I could count a dozen others here at least.

As the train roared and rattled its way up to full speed, I couldn't escape the idea that I was trapped down here... even more so that I already was. Riding along in this bag, the fox above, below and behind me all at once had me firmly in his possession. On top of that, with all these larger locals all around me, I expected, dreaded look after stare after glare at the little Polcian sat watching from his makeshift transport.

My breathing got shorter, faster. A cramping hit my stomach. Here in my compartment, I felt my tail creep closer, clamping itself to the outside of my thigh. As the train followed its tracks, shifting and rocking me with every curve, I waited and waited for that negative response, for that moment where I'd regret everything that led up to it. But it never came.

The blouse-wearing ferret in the seat directly opposite found more interest in her phone, while the tigress next to her simply bobbed along to the music from her earphones. Standing just beside them, a young rat with bleached blonde shoulder-length headfur stood casually as you like, leaning against a floor-to-ceiling support pole, gazing off out of the window behind me. If any of them had noticed my presence here, none of them cared a jot.

As I pondered on that, still glancing upwards, I went on to discover a fourth passenger here in our immediate area of the carriage... A skunk, riding in the hood of that rat's bright green running jacket.

I had to doubletake, literally, confirming to myself that, yes, that_was_ a fellow Polcian-sized passenger all the way up there, staring off at the same window as his larger friend.

My breathing slowed and my ill-feeling faded. I started to smile, soon stretching it into a grin, peering upwards all the while. The look on my face must have been such a picture, gawking away like I was. In fact, he must've sensed it, searching around at the view below for a while before eventually setting his own eyes on me.

His purple-shaded headfur waved as the train slowed for the next stop, then again as his head tilted. All throughout, that skunk watched on, prompting me to react in a manner that even I didn't fully expect.

Up went my arm, offering a firm wave in addition to my smile. Then, I went one further, submitting to the urge to grab my camera and snap off the most stable photo I could manage. With or without my lens, I could have seen his bemusement clear as the day above ground.

The young lad smirked away, brow furrowed, offering up a quick wave in return before reaching over to prod at their friend's neck. As our train whined to a stop, doors swooshing open to the station platform, I could hear him chuckle, waiting for the rat to turn his head before gesturing my way and stating, "-Heh. Turysta-."

They both then looked down at me, less bemused, more amused. They held that pose of sorts for the time it took a few more passengers to stomp aboard, offering me the opportunity to get a nice clean shot of the pair of them. The car doors closed. A judder followed. Our train set off once again.

The two lads returned their attention to the window, leaving me down here in my bag, partly wondering if that whole event had really just happened. As it turned out, I'd have my guide to offer confirmation on that, smiling and winking once I shifted around to peer up at him from his lap.

"Next stop, change train." He held up four fingers for me. "Then, four stops. Then we are close. Not long."

His explanation eased my doubts and uncertainty over any potential predicament, allowing me to fully relax in my bag-dwelling seat. As promised, we negotiated some large, swarming central station to switch lines, boarding a second, more crowded train to ride those final four stops to our destination.

Space came at a premium throughout, but to my relief, my guide fox took great care in ensuring his bag and I had plenty, even as he stood scrunched into a spot just inside the carriage doors.

As smooth and largely straightforward as our journey proved to be, I was by no means sorry to get back outside into fresh air and sunshine. I could see the tops of huge stores and office buildings before we made it even halfway up the exit stairs. Standing four, five floors tall, they themselves rose as high as all but the very tallest towers back home. So then, spotting a collection of Zolnian skyscrapers in the distance beyond, stretching up several hundred Polcian storeys apiece, took every last gasp of my breath away.

Beyond my jaw-dropping amazement, as my guide carried us towards that very top step, I could take heart in knowing that I'd made it across the river at last, closer to the observatory. My tail wagged against the fabric supporting me, matching the sway of the bag. I simply hoped the final leg of my journey would go as smoothly.

Downtown Pozrun shared a lot in common with that of Arlone's. Not so much by way of the warmer, historic architecture versus the colder modernity of home, but more from the fact that there was little to no room to find amongst it.

Noisy roads teemed with cars, bikes, buses and trams, while wide pavements swarmed with people of all species making their morning journeys to work. Off to the side, filling a trench beside the buildings, smaller-sized locals made their own respective ways, barely visible beyond the crowd, or the protective bars above them. Again, it was all such a sight to behold, and again, the frantic unpredictability of my situation left grabbing my camera purely as an afterthought.

People in business suits, uniformed, casual clothes passed one after another, carving a loud path in the opposite direction. Some came close enough for me to smell their scent and feel their heat. Others on the other paw afforded us even less room, brushing against the bag and almost me along with it. Stars above, one false move, and I could imagine myself on the end of far more than a passing brush.

My guide must've been able to read minds, or at least sense what his bag and I were being subjected to. As we reached a comparatively wide space in the crowd, just behind a bus stop shelter filled to capacity, he reached around to take his bag in one paw, adjusting the shoulder strap with the other. In one fluid motion, I rose and shifted away from his hip and up to his chest, hanging not far beneath his muzzle, well away from those passing carelessly around us.

This new, somewhat sheltered position offered a sense of security. Not a lot, what with the sheer noise and busyness around us, but enough to finally permit me to take my camera in paw. The older stores topped by apartments stood out from the office buildings; their cream and white facades a stark contrast to the greys and glass belonging to the latter. The most pristine and elegant examples stole my attention, demanding photos, even if it drew something of a laugh from my guide above. "Photo of bank?"

I wasn't sure how to answer that. Admittedly, when posed in that way, the concept did sound strange. "Pretty."

His shoulders rocked with a quieter chuckle. Whether he agreed with my assessment or not, the lad left his questioning there.

We diverted from the main road a short walk later, cutting down some narrower, calmer pedestrianised areas. The buildings got even older, their exteriors more dated but no less interesting, offering up some remarkable contrasts.

A stylish clothing store found a home in a former neoclassical house for example, its tall, arched windows affording plenty of space for mannequins to display the latest trends. Next door, a chain coffee shop welcomed customers through an entrance topped by an epic, semi-circular stained glass window. Such sights were too good to pass up, more than earning a place each on my photoreel... Much like the scenes being set by the locals themselves.

Outside of that coffee place, six mixed-sized friends, four large, two small, chatted away around two circular tables, the smaller one settled atop the other, making conversation over drinks all the more easy.

One door along, a smartly-dressed wolf shared a laugh with a raccoon whom I assumed to be a work colleague, riding along in his blazer's breast pocket as they approached the entrance to their office building. I'd seen plenty of examples of integrated living in my time here so far... but I realised then how much more I'd missed down on those walkways.

"Many photos," said my guide, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Yes." I smiled up at him, thinking, realising how awkward it felt to consider him as 'my guide'. "What is your name, lad?"

Ears perked, he looked at me with a cold expression that I couldn't place. Had he understood me? Had I done wrong by asking that? He'd warm soon enough though, answering 'yes' and 'no' to those questions respectively. "Wojciech."

I blinked. Then again. Was... that his name? A statement in Zolnian? "...Okay."

"Hah. Look." He pointed to his mouth, slowly sounding out, "Voy-chekh. Wojciech."

"Uh... Voy-check."

"Heh. Close. Good." His cheeks lifted. "You?"

"Jack."

"Jack," he repeated, perfectly. "Hello, Jack."

"Hello, Voy... Wojciech."

We chuckled again together, coming to the end of this pedestrian lane to return to another busy main road. I almost forgot I was riding along with a stranger... Though he certainly felt a little less like one once we returned to the intensity of rush hour.

Camera still firmly in paw, I remained committed to filling as much of my memory card as possible... even if doing so proved more and more challenging. The problem didn't come from the manicness of our surroundings, nor the stability of Wojciech's now steady bag, but rather from the sparseness of sights I considered picture-worthy.

The buildings remained tall, grand, but far plainer in appearance than those that came before them. The crowds meanwhile still consisted of giants going about their business, but were otherwise wholly unspectacular. Perhaps the novelty of both had begun to wear thin, I thought to myself.

Wojciech must have noticed the slowdown of my enthusiasm on the shutter button. Either that, or he had some totally different reason for throwing an arm to his bag, holding it and I to his chest before swinging a sudden right through the crowd.

The force dazed me somewhat, bumping me into the stiff, supporting edge of his bag. By the time my head cleared the bustle had gone, replaced instead by a small, peaceful sidestreet. Cramped, terraced apartment buildings flanked a narrow, dated stretch of asphalt, parted by the cracking pavement we were hurrying our way along. Quite the change of scenery, if I did say so myself. "All okay?"

"Yes." He grinned. "All okay."

Baffling. I truly had no idea what to make of that. At least, not until we made it a little further down this passage, moving closer to what at first appeared as another unspectacular junction here in the backstreets.

"Look," he called, throwing his huge paw out towards the other side of the road. "Teatr Krola. How you call... pretty, yes?"

We stopped fast. That offered me space to collect myself and properly follow his pointing, quickly finding what 'pretty' sight he'd brought me to. "Oh... Wow."

Standing proud on the opposite corner, afforded ample room atop a shallow stone stairway, a relatively compact but remarkable theatre building looked out over this small junction. Its white pillars glistened in the sunlight pouring over the rooftops above, casting a series of huge, immaculate arched windows in uniform streams of shadow, all centred by an imposing set of wooden doors. Topping everything off, a crown-bearing ironcast figure stood proudly at the peak of a shallow dome, sparkling, only adding to its majesty.

I'd seen a lot of classical buildings on my trip thus far, but this had to be both the oldest and the most pristine. Three, four hundred years old, but sparkling as if it had only just been constructed. You simply... you just couldn't find such brilliant, flawless historical wonders like this back in Arlone... Not in their exact pre-war state anyhow...

"Pretty?"

"Yes, yes," I less confirmed, more insisted. "Amazing... I had no idea this was here."

"Pretty inside also."

"You have been inside?" His brow furrowed. "You go here?"

"Oh, yes! For, uh... concert." He chuckled, shrugged, feeling around for his next words. "To me... concert was more... interesting than the inside?"

"Yes, interesting is the word." I offered a thumbs up. "I understand."

"You take picture?"

He needn't ask me twice. If not for my neckstrap, I might have thrown my camera all the way to the ground with how hard I brought it into position. My excitement left me trembling as I did what I could to get higher. For what I'd call a quiet junction, it wasn't all that quiet. We had plenty of massive locals roaming, expertly placing themselves in shot as they passed. Even inanimate objects were against me, namely the kerb-mounted car parked closeby, its red roof bleeding into the bottom corner of my frame. This theatre was stunning. Perfect. I owed it a picture equally so.

"Here."

"Woah, woah!" My focus went to pieces. Everything began to shake, shift, bumping me back against the fabric supports. The top of that car disappeared. Passing pedestrians, too. I peered up at Wojciech in search of an explanation... only to see his smile sink out of sight beyond his bag. Finally came those brick buildings all around us, losing a measure of their height against my vantage.

"Better?"

I sat up straight again, composing myself, retrieving my camera from the crook between my chest and arm.

"Better, Jack?"

Hearing him calling out below befuddled me, but not as much as the view I had beyond the edge of his bag. I must have sat as far above the ground as my sixth storey apartment back home. Maybe a shade higher, even. Below, poking into view, the tip of Wojciech's nose and white muzzle rose towards me, the rest of him out of sight as he held his bag in place above his head.

"Jack?"

"Yes, lad." Back directly ahead, I'd been afforded a wonderful, unfettered view of Teatr Krola. With Wojciech's help, not a single soul or obstacle could hope to stand in my way. "Much better!"

I couldn't tell you how many photos I ultimately took of that old theatre, but I couldn't chance coming away with anything less than fantastic. In the end however, I had to settle for hoping I'd achieved that. After all, I didn't have all day, and I knew that I wasn't the only one. "Thank you. That's good."

"No problem." Wojciech pulled his arms down steadily, bringing me back to what I suppose would be my 'usual' position at his chest. Before I could thank him further, I saw his ears dip, eyes studying his wrist, or more precisely, his watch.

"Late?"

"Almost." He gestured back up the road with his muzzle. "Come. Must go."

"Of course." I snorted a quiet laugh through my nostrils. Sitting there in his bag, it's not like I had much choice in the matter. "Let's go."

As it turned out, Wojciech's office was located only another block away, nestled a short way along another pedestrianised passage. From what I could gather, it sat on the floor above some kind of sandwich shop, entrance located between that and a small sports equipment store next door.

I had to say, as unexpected and unpredictable as this whole experience had been, I was somewhat sad as he helped me out of his bag and into his paws.

"Okay, Jack." He bent and crouched himself down, lowering me towards the floor, aiming at a concrete slope leading down into a guarded trench. There, I'd find a walkway running parallel with these store and office fronts. "Observatory. Not far. I can direct."

"Please." I stepped off of his fingertips and onto the paving, taking a couple more to the safety of where the walkway's covering started. This passage wasn't all that busy, but as a beagle barely making it past the ankles of Wojciech and his ground-thumping kin, I didn't want to chance matters. "If you could, that would be great."

He settled back on one knee, gesturing off beyond the sandwich place. "Left at end of this path. Then, straight three junctions. Then, you are at Park Wisniewski. Observatory next to. Big roof. Green. Can not miss." Back to me he turned, smiling. "Okay?"

I nodded. "Understood."

"Okay." That smile of his crept wider, huge brush swinging away at a doe passing by. "Jack, this was fun."

I had to say, his contentment spread to me. "It was, lad. Thank you so much for your help."

"No problem." Wojciech checked his watch again. His eyes went wide. "Argh. I must go."

"Oh!" I threw up a paw so fast that I struggled to assemble what I wanted to say next. "Before you do..."

He titled his head, halfway back up to standing.

"One thing." I lifted and waggled my camera. "One more picture."

"Of?"

"...Us?" His brow creased hard, but a rising at the corner of his mouth bolstered my desire to continue. "This was... different. I would like to remember. To share. My friends back home in Polcia. They will not believe my story."

Whether it came from being short on time, or more positively, his desire to accommodate me yet further, Wojciech didn't delay in bringing himself and that smile back down again. "Yes. No problem."

My tail wagged against the side of the walkway's covering, swinging even harder as I spun myself one-eighty. The so-called selfie display on my camera caught every daft inch of my grin, but only a portion of the giant fox angling and adjusting himself into shot. I had to do a fair amount of work on that front too, dipping my camera, tilting it, leaning forward so that I could include myself in the steep low-angle shot that suited best.

In the end, I had everything: my broad contentment, Wojciech's casual smirk above, and the huge, brown-furred thumbs up he offered for me. With one press, I captured it for good. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

"Hah!" I studied the display for the longest time, marvelling in what was probably my favourite photo of the day, if not the entire trip. "Thank you once again."

"No problem. Once again." Wojciech hauled himself back to his full, considerable height, leaving me to peer up to his persistent smirk. "I must go. One minute until late."

"Sure, sure." For the first time in the most action-packed forty-five minutes of my life, he walked off without me, thumping and rattling the pavement. "Have a good day."

"Yes." He wagged his paw, two fingers extended; a casual wave of sorts. "Enjoy vacation, Jack..." Gripping the handle of that giant office door, he winked. "And enjoy no stars observatory."

Then... that was it. As fast as he'd stomped into my day, my vacation, Wojciech had slipped through that door and disappeared for good.

He left me standing there, happy, bewildered... downcast, too. I didn't know the lad, but he'd just succeeded in making this a trip to remember and then some. All from simply plucking me up from that walkway near the market and whisking me away with him. What a moment. What an experience... What a head spinner.

As I turned to descend that slope, rejoining the smaller locals traversing these half-hidden rolling walkways, I knew one thing for certain. No matter how impressive that observatory I was headed for, or anything else I might find there for that matter, I had sincere doubts that my day would get any more interesting from here!