Zyla glared at the proffered document, her amber eyes narrowing.   The Arbiter, his gaze flickering to her twitching ears, sneered. "Shall I read it to you, cat?"   Snatching the clipboard, Zyla returned the sneer, her own feline fangs far sharper. The Arbiter flinched, a tremor running through his ample frame.   “Zyla Swiftclaw,” she announced, her voice a low growl, as she scrawled her name and the bare minimum required information. "Guild business."   She shoved the clipboard back into his hands, shouldering past before he could utter another word.   "Enjoy your visit," he called after her, his voice laced with a nervous afterthought. “And avoid trouble.”   Zyla ignored him. Years of handling minor bounties in the outer colonies had long ago taught her the best ways to deal with this type of human. Let them think it doesn't bother you until either you're out of earshot or close enough to slide a dagger through their ribcage.   Aetheris was spread out before her – towering structures that scraped the sky, their surfaces gleaming with polished metal, connected by a network of sky-bridges that glittered in the noonday sun. Spirits above… she thought, her tail twitching nervously as the crowds pressed close. It was grander than any human settlement she'd seen before and far beyond anything her kin had ever built. Hundreds of thousands of souls called this place home, a number she could barely comprehend. The Swiftclaw convoy had, at its busiest, maybe two or three thousand members, and even that felt suffocating at times.   A group of humans, their white robes dotted with strange sigils and girded with golden belts, brushed past. Zyla realized with a jolt that she’d been standing, mouth agape, blocking the flow of foot traffic.   She shook her head, suppressing the flicker of awe and the blush rising on her cheeks, and forced herself to move. The steady mechanical din of the docks gave way, overwhelmed by the barely-controlled chaos of the city proper. The drone of countless conversations filled her ears, broken up here and there with the louder, more practiced cries of merchants and   Herbs and spices she didn't have a name for. Roasting meat, the smoky, savory smell making her mouth water. In the distance, perfumes and the unnatural staticky-cold scent of discharging magic.">food mongers. She felt pulled in a dozen directions, wanting to experience it all, taste it all, touch it all.   Her hand instinctively went to the coin purse at her belt, its lightness serving as a reminder of her pressing task. She cast a longing glance at a stall piled high with glistening, alien fruits, their aroma a symphony of sweetness and spice. The festival ran for five days, she reminded herself. Plenty of time to explore once the coin flowed.   Pressing on, she made her way through the packed festival square. Despite herself, she felt her ears flatten and her tail begin to puff up. She weaved her way through the throng, one hand on her coinpurse. The primal part of her soul wanted to find a dark alley to slink into, a place not laden with a thousand unfamiliar scents. She set her sights on the distant towers of the city center where the Hunter’s Guild headquarters, a place of legends, awaited.