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_ Slim _

These makroudhs were tiny. Like, mind-blowingly. Six diamond-shaped pastries sat arranged on a square plate; the centrepiece of the hand-sized tray I was carrying across the restaurant.

I wondered, how in the world Dad managed to bake these? How did he spoon out such small blobs of date paste, never mind roll, score and cut the dough without squashing or splattering it all everywhere? So many questions, but no time to answer them. Our last customers for the evening were watching me, or should I say their dessert, with wide, Maleni-sized eyes.

"Oh, those look fantastic," cheered the well-dressed, sandy-furred shrew, sitting closest to the railing of our waist-high balcony section in the corner. "I haven't had these for so long."

"Not since we visited your parents last year," his wife stated from across their table before peering up to me. "They certainly look the part. Just like the ones we had in Kharsia."

"My father would be happy to hear that," I said, waiting until they'd taken the makroudhs, then the thimble-sized cups for their pot of green tea. "He's very keen on bringing a slice of home here to Vodaskal."

Her husband took a big bite out of his little pastry, instantly moaning his approval. "Just like my mother's, honestly." He waved a paw at her, jabbing down at the five remaining. "Honestly. Try one."

I stayed there with them for a minute or so longer, unsure how to hold that tiny, empty tray. Truthfully, I was no waiter. I didn't have the first idea about service customs and the like, and I _definitely_wasn't one for shiny shoes, collared shirts and itchy formal trousers. But, while I hated hanging around casting an awkward gecko-shaped shadow over them, it couldn't kill my hype over being able to speak some Ekrean with people outside my family for a change.

In the end, they finished up a little before eleven, gesturing me over to tell me one last time how amazing Dad's makroudhs were, then to offer a real generous ten tolar tip via my funky ring-mounted card scanner. Man, I think I squeaked out loud seeing that pop up on my tablet, knowing it was all mine. After all, being the 'family help' around here didn't pay badly. No, see, my tips aside, it didn't actually pay at all. A lesson on the importance of hard work, Dad called it. A pretty way of dressing up cheap labour, I figured.

I saw the shrews off a few minutes later, happy to hear them insist that they'd be back, and not only at the thought of another fat tip coming my way. Standing just inside our front door, watching them leave through the smaller side exit up on the balcony, I wondered if a wave was in order. Too much? Too awkward? In the end, I resisted. Dude, I really needed to read up on this waitering business.

Restaurant empty, eleven o'clock long since gone, the time came for me to close up shop. Flipping the open sign was the easy part. As was turning the key and fastening the deadbolt of the main door. Doing the same for that little Maleni version? Yeah. Not so much.

At the control panel mounted beside the light switches, I gave myself a minute to try and remember which button I needed to press. Uncle Adel had walked me through it like a hundred times at least, but it just wouldn't stick in my head. Yeah, there might have only been three buttons to choose from, but since I didn't know what two of them did, screwing up could've come with anything from no drama to all the drama in the whole damn world.

"Left," I reminded myself, finally, hearing a small, lock-like clunk the moment I jabbed my selection. Great. All good. Probably. A part of me wanted to lean over that little balcony and test the tiny handle myself. An even bigger part of me however wondered what I'd do if I snapped the thing clean off the door.

Stop, I told myself. I'd locked it, just like Uncle had shown me. It was done. No big deal... Maybe I'd go ask him to double check for himself.

"That's the last of the customers gone," I called, slipping out back into our cramped, hot kitchen. "The doors are locked up. I think."

"You think?" Uncle Adel questioned, arms deep in the sink.

"Yeah." I stopped, watching his head tilt, pressured by his stare to admit, "I mean, I'm pretty certain."

"Hmm. Only pretty certain."

" Uh... Maybe you could go check, Uncle?"

"Sure." He smirked, lifting a plate from the suds. "Once I'm done here."

"Thanks." I scooted on past him, taking a lean against the centre prep area Dad was busy tidying. "But yeah, other than that, I'm thinking I'm good to bail."

Dad puffed, wiping his forehead. I knew what was coming before he even locked eyes on me. "Help your uncle with the washing up before you head home."

"Oh, man..."

"Please," he snapped in that tone that pretty much turned 'please' into 'now'.

Quietly, for my own sake, I spun towards the sink. Dodging Uncle's wide sweeping tail, I joined him there, not even needing to find my own gloves as he tossed a pair right at me, offering up his, "Thanks."

I just wanted to sleep. Curl up under my heated blanket and pass the fuck out. I'd been on my feet here since 6pm and spent most of the time rushing around out front. Helping out family was one thing, but doing it for tips alone? Four, five evenings a week? This was getting lame quick, and I really didn't need to be slapping on rubber gloves and scrubbing dishes to round it off.

"The makroudhs went down amazingly well," Dad said from over my shoulder. "I thought the batches I made would last the weekend, but a couple of the full-sized slices aside, those you took out were the last."

Did he want an answer? Eh. I kept my arms deep in the water.

"I'm thinking about making some more tomorrow..." He drifted off into a thoughtful hum. I was having too much fun scrubbing to join him. "Is it too much with Baklava on the menu, too?"

Makroudhs, baklavas, I'd seen so many of those and more all evening that I didn't much know what to think. "Yeah, yeah. S'all good."

"I can tell that a lot of thought went into that."

"Dad, you're the chef." I glared back over my shoulder at him. The hand on his hip told me what he'd thought of that. "What I mean is, you know most of all. You should decide."

"Thanks for the input."

"Okay." I tossed the dish I was scrubbing back into the sink and turned to face him properly. "Right. The makroudhs... I love 'em, and_everyone's_ only had good things to say about them tonight. That little shrew couple I was serving just now--"

"Salim," Uncle Adel muttered. "They prefer to be called Maleni here."

"Fine, got it, sorry, those Maleni shrews. They said to me that they were just like the ones they had back home."

"Oh?" Hearing me say that lifted Dad so high, I thought he might slam the ceiling. "Glad to hear it."

"Keep them on the menu. It's a no-brainer."

"And the baklava? It's not too similar?"

"People like that too." I shrugged. "Why not offer both? Everyone likes dessert."

"Just what I said," Uncle added.

"Well, now you've both said it." Dad nodded. "I'll keep them both on."

"The menu's yours. You know that, Karim." I got a splash of suds against my arm as he turned away from the dishes. "That's what we agreed way back when we first discussed you coming to join me here."

"Yes, I know."

"Good."

"That doesn't mean I don't want your opinions." Dad glanced around, finding the cookers, the pantry, the shelves full of pots and pans, then us again. "This is a long, long way from my little cafe in Nezma."

At that point, I lost whatever interest I had left. I tuned out of their discussion over the details of their partnership, figuring that if I didn't finish the last of these plates, I'd never make it back home again. And if I didn't make it back home, how could I rest up before another busy shift here tomorrow?

I huffed the suds apart, feeling myself get heavy under that thought. Waiting tables in the evenings, washing dishes at night, it'd been the same stale routine since... Tuesday? Wednesday? Whatever, family or not, I'd served my time here for one week.

"Speaking of the menu tomorrow," I called into the sink, hoping it'd find Dad from there. "I... Can I get the evening off?"

"Why?"

I shuddered. Stared at the suds. I probably should've thought this far ahead. "Got... plans."

"What plans?"

"I wanna... I mean I'm going to check out the area."

"That doesn't sound like much of a plan." He scoffed. "Besides, you have the whole afternoon free to explore."

"Oh, come on!" I moaned, whipping around from the sink. Dad raised a finger, ordering me to quieten. "Dad, please. Just one weekend, I want to head out properly. See what's what." I wrapped my hand around a fist, shaking, begging him to listen. "We've been here a whole month now and I've seen the apartment, this place and... not much else."

Dad glanced at Uncle. They kept their thoughts to themselves. Fine. I had no problem begging more.

"If you need help, get Farah to come on down and I'll cover one of her evenings next week." I stepped forward, going in for the kill. "Anyway, I'm gonna have way less free time once school starts up again. This'll be practice for that... kinda."

"Well..." said Uncle Adel, finally. "It is a Sunday. We'll have the lunchtime buffet of course, but the evening will be very calm. Standard for Vodaskal, even in Pilsnec."

Dad turned to me, hand rubbing over his mouth. I didn't dare say more. "Okay. Fine--"

"Yes!" I pumped a fist so hard my elbow clonked the sink. "Thank--"

"Have a talk with your sister. If she's okay with swapping shifts... Then I am too."

"Right!" A snatched off these damn rubber gloves. "Yeah, yeah, I'll do that."

"Ah ah." Dad's wagging finger stopped me taking even half a step towards the back door. "You're not quite finished yet."

"Huh?" He nodded towards the sink. Uncle then gestured the rest of the way there. "...Seriously?"

"Seriously."

I couldn't hide a huff. Not that it helped. Back to the counter I went, welcomed by stacks of Maleni-sized plates and glasses on an equally tiny version of the countertop. "And what do I do with_that_?"

"Rinse it and load it into the top tray of the dishwasher," Uncle Adel replied. "The top, top tray."

"You've gotta be fooling with me." I plucked up one of the plates, barely the size of a bottletop. "I'm gonna break this stuff."

"Try not to."

"Uncle," I grumbled. "You really need to hire some of those Maleni for this."

"And for checking that everything's locked up too, right?" he shot back, slapping me on the shoulder as he moved to head out front. "Have fun."

I didn't, not even a little bit, but blasting those toy-sized plates and stuff with water and scooping them into the dishwasher didn't take long. By midnight, I'd walked myself home, dragged myself up the four flights of stairs to our apartment, begged my big sister Farah to switch a shift, before finally flopping my super-tired self into bed. I could've slept for days, weeks maybe, but my alarm made sure I wouldn't risk it. After all, I'd earned this Sunday free from the restaurant for a reason, and I wasn't about to go and waste it.

My skateboard hadn't seen proper attention since we'd left Kharsia for Vodaskal. Propped up against my wardrobe, lacking its own space in this new, small bedroom of mine, I'd lost count of how many times I'd had to move it just to grab something or get someplace. Going from boarding almost everyday to not all had been brutal. Like having my right arm cut off. A ride together was way overdue, but we wouldn't have to wait much longer to make it outside. Only as long as it'd take to figure out exactly where outside that ride would take us.

I opened my wardrobe, yanking my heated mat free from the boxes that I still hadn't unpacked. If my skateboard hadn't found a home here yet, then what chance anything else? Unrolling, powering it up, I set my mat down between my bed and the wardrobe, leaving it for a moment to get warm before I'd settled myself down too.

I only needed a couple of steps to make it over to my desk. A third got me close enough to grab my tablet from beside my sketchbook. It told me the time was a quarter past one, but it was the temperature panel that really grabbed my attention.

"Puh," I snorted at the chunky, sea otter-shaped doodle wearing swim shorts, chilling in a recliner under a beach umbrella. "You'll need to gimme a few more degrees for that kinda thing."

I could count on my mat to give me a little of that extra heat at least. Sprawling out, having a good stretch and a wiggle, I got myself all nice and comfy down beside my skateboard. Suitably toasty from my chest to my belly, I swiped at my tablet, signed back in, prepping myself to start scouting for skate spots.

The dreadlocked lion I'd been using as a reference for my latest drawing welcomed me back. The dude had almost criminal amounts of style on show, all the way from that awesome skull and crossbones skate deck, to the fully committed frontside air he was pulling on that halfpipe. He'd helped get both my arty and my skatey juices flowing free that morning. All the more motivation to tab on through to my map app.

Pilsnec was a huge, dense place, and the Kosnerka area of it was probably even denser. Stuff like parks and green space were tough to find between all the tight roads and big buildings huddled up close together. I used to think Nezma was big and crazy, but my hometown between the desert and the sea had absolutely nothing on this place. In fact, it took a couple of tries just to figure out which way was north on this thing. Everything sure did look alike from a satellite view.

Once I'd found myself, I took a quick virtual tour of the neighbourhood, searching through the rows and rows of apartments, houses and other buildings for a good place to chill. I needed a good minute or three, but I was happy to find a couple of legit looking skateparks in the area. The closest was in Ritka, just the other side of the motorway from here. The other I found a fair way north in a place called Tadov, right next to an outdoor handball court a short walk from the metro station there. Decisions, decisions.

That second park looked both bigger and better, hands down, but it'd take me twenty, thirty minutes to get there, even on my board. Yeah, the metro would cut that down to a five minute trip at most, but I don't mind saying that I hated the idea of trying to make it even two stops along that thing. No, that first park in the lot by the motorway would work out fine. It had bowls, a halfpipe, and some street skating obstacles dotted about the spot too. Sure, it didn't look much compared to that big park to the north, or my usual patch all the way back home, but at least I had a clear idea of how to get there. Plus, if it totally sucked ... maybe it'd help push me into braving the metro.

For what my uncle called a 'quiet' Sunday, the heaving buzz of the city hit me like a truck as I stepped out onto the top step of our building. Cars chugged by, overtaking a hundred conversations one at a time on their way down the street. A metro train rumbled past, hidden from view by the old, fading apartment blocks lining the opposite pavement.

I took myself a moment to get corrected, straightening up my black skinny jeans and shaking loose my favourite and Dad's most hated Gutter Rats shirt. Maybe he couldn't see it, but I thought the purple played real nice with the three screaming, mohawk-wearing rat skulls. Either way, all this was way better than the stuffy, neat, totally 'not my gear' gear he'd made me wear for work. But, thanks to the weather, my purple skully dudes wouldn't get to show themselves off.

I slipped on my beanie, then my windbreaker, every pocket packed with extra heat pads. Dad moved us here to join Uncle running his restaurant barely more than a month ago, but I don't think I made it even halfway from the airport before appreciating that summer here and summer back home are two very different things.

On top of the climate, in that month that followed, even with the restaurant keeping me chained closeby, I got a good intro into all the other things, big and small, literally, that just weren't the same back in Nezma.

Skating down the pavement, choosing to dodge cracks rather than the cars out on the busy street, it didn't take long to find all the weird, funky paths and whatnot cutting here, there and everywhere. Wide enough for the smaller locals, Maleni, to move in both directions, these cool walkways ran overground to follow the roads, and underground to cross under them. As many as there were, and as far as they sprawled, I never felt like they'd get in my way, what with how they mostly stuck to the walls of buildings, or were fenced off in a lowered groove in the pavement.

I watched a striped skink stroll on by in the opposite direction, while a brown hare kept up pace with me on his little bike, both of them helped along by moving belts. How did they use those things without falling? I couldn't even imagine riding my board on something like that... much as I figured getting to have a try would actually be kinda nifty.

Turning the corner at the end of my street, I watched that hare disappear into an underpass heading for the four-lane road packed with traffic. A group of dudes replaced him topside, emerging on the belt running opposite, chatting away almost as loud as the dull rumbling that grew to outdo all of us.

A shadow covered the pavement, owned by the metro cars coasting along above the rusty supports of the elevated rail. Big windows above, small ones below, even the trains here had space set aside for everybody.

Everything here had this weird, double-sided reality to it. Like two worlds crashing into each other to form one. Back in Nezma, we had small neighbours too, but mostly they stuck to their side of the city. Because of that, there wasn't much need for many paths or other smaller stuff outside of the mixed spaces downtown. But here, everywhere was for everyone, and I have to say, it was kinda fun. Tricky, too. Always, everyday, I was scared over bumping something or screwing up somehow. Mostly, that applied to the restaurant, carrying tiny trays and serving little folk at matching tables on the balcony. One bad move, one trip, and my lords, I could cause all kinds of problems.

I coasted under the metro overpass, sweeping and slaloming around the crowds of other people my size going about their days. Most shops were closed, with only convenience stores and food places still putting work in, but that didn't stop the heart of Kosnerka being the same bustling hub that'd put most other places to shame, even on their busiest days.

Outside, away from waitering, I enjoyed this whole new perspective on the city, allowing myself an ollie here and a kickflip there, dusting off the cobwebs that a solid month of work had built up.

Helping out my family, I'd never say no to that, but working long and late hours in a restaurant really wasn't my scene. A big chunk of me couldn't wait for September to arrive. Once I started finishing school, I could count on less waitering, more art, more study. Yeah, I'd be nervous, no question, but excited too, I hoped. Nervous but excited... That'd become my default setting over the course of the year leading up to this move to Vodaskal. How much longer would I have to suffer through it?

I made good time on my way to the motorway, helped along by the thinning crowds and a few crossing signals falling nicely in my favour. The tops of truck trailers were visible beyond the concrete barrier above, racing along the overpass that divided Kosnerka and Ritka. Past the offramp that'd brought us here from the airport, and the dank, noisy tunnel plastered completely with hasty tags and colourful graffiti art, I rolled into this new part of the city for the very first time.

On first impressions, things were pretty much the same here as they were back up the hill. The streets were packed, buzzing with life with people big and small making the most of their Sundays, bordered by the same old, stale buildings toeing the wide, gritty pavements. But, rolling clear of the dark overpass, I had the chance of a second, third, fourth inspection, where all the little differences made themselves known.

The stores and food places were still small, still crammed between tall, skinny townhouses and big, monochrome apartment blocks, but they did have their differences. On those shopfronts, and in the voices of the people milling around them, there was less Ekrean, less Polcian and way more Velikan to be found, reading and sounding like a code I had to crack. One overpass later, and it was like I'd stepped into another, very alien world. Who knew a five minute skate could take me so far from home...

Thankfully, I didn't have much further to go to make it to the park there. Still in view of the motorway, surrounded by a grubby, splitting chain link fence, the whole place somehow managed to be even more crowded than the streets around it. Every pipe and bowl swarmed with guys and girls on their skateboards, rollerblades, motocross bikes, you name it. Even beyond a second set of chain links to the left of the lot, the same scene could be found on the smaller ramps and obstacles in a scaled down section of the park.

I loved to see it: a scene that wouldn't have been out of place back in Kharsia, maybe except for all those tiny skaters rolling around their area. Still, my hand clamping the fence would need more than that to let go. I couldn't count how many people there were here, but amongst all the foxes, wolves, otters and so many other furred species... I couldn't find anyone like me. In a cold, arm-tightening flash, all that desperation to get myself here, free of the apartment and the restaurant, had faded to nothing. Tearing my fingers from the chain links only helped me realise how numb they felt. My arms, too. I needed to grip my board tighter just to be sure that I wouldn't drop it.

All those loud, positive, Velikan-speaking voices flooded the air, giving ammo to the rising part of my brain that wanted me to turn tail, jump on my board and ride all the way back home again. At the same time, the rest of my thoughts focused on the grinding and clapping of wheels against concrete, repeating over and over as everyone presented their moves and their styles for all to see. My feet began to itch, shifting and shuffling, only too aware of the gate within reaching distance to my left.

A loud clang tore my attention right, over towards a ferret in a tank top absolutely nailing a 50-50 grind the full length of a stair handrail. He flashed me a glance as he stuck the landing, casual to the extreme, turning back ahead as he passed, attention firmly on the wooden funbox waiting for his next trick in line.

The urge to join them was way too much. I'd been waiting so long to get on my board and feel the thrill again. Strange, Velikan-speaking locals or not, I wasn't about to bail on this. I grabbed the gate and pulled the handle, taking my first step into this familiar yet totally weird, stomach-twisting setting.

The first bowl jumped out to me as the best place to get myself started, close to the fence dividing us from all the smaller skaters in their area of the park. Simple, shallow, and not too busy compared to the bigger bowls and ramps around it.

I took it nice and easy to start with, making sure not to snake anyone and cut off their line while I got my eye in. Kickflips and heelflips got me started. Fairly basic, sure, but I didn't want to push too fast and embarrass myself in front of all these people.

That last month must have been the longest I'd spent off my board in the five years since starting, but it didn't take me long to feel like I'd never stopped.

Everyone else around me kinda faded into the background. I pushed up some speed towards that beginner bowl, circling it for a minute to scope out the lines and figure the best entry. At least that's what I told myself. Deep down, I think some of those nerves had followed me in through the gate. What was I doing? Freaking about some easy kidney bowl. I'd lived for these in my starter years. Yeah, I might've been new around here, getting a couple of looks from a 'yote passing on his board and a raccoon chilling on his bike over by the big bowl, but dude, boarding was all me. I had this down in my sleep, and that was the thought I clung to as I took my line and ollied straight into the bowl.

I kept things nice and easy to start with, carving around the corners, building pace and feeling my way around the smooth, graffiti-covered concrete. The cool breeze hit my face pleasantly, and my windbreaker did a great job of keeping the rest of me toasty.

Once up to speed, some simple lip grinds came first, coping rumbling under my board's trucks, filling me with a buzz that'd been missing for too long. Building a routine, circling the bowl, I build up the courage to move on to some slightly more challenging nosegrinds and tailslides. The air got colder, jabbing my face harder. Adrenaline flowed, pushing me to carve higher and pump more aggressively around the bowl to up my pace. Usually, in a more familiar setting, I'd have listened to the voice telling me it was air time. Not yet, but that time would come, and when it did, I'd be beelining to that big bowl to start pulling air like I was back in Nezma...

Man, Nezma. As excited as I'd tried to be leading up to this move, the fear and the sadness never left me alone for too long. And now, as I rattled around a concrete bowl thousands of miles away, they came back with a reminder that they'd made it to Pilsnec along with me.

I missed home. I missed my friends. On July afternoons like this, we'd hit the streets, skate down towards our favourite skatepark and hit up a nearby cafe. There, we'd grab some iced drinks and hang in the shade of the palm trees, waiting for the sun to set and the summer heat to fade.

When night fell, that's when the city really came to life. Every skater in our neighbourhood would descend on that park, crowding every ramp, every section, doing our thing under cover of the streetlights. Later, all skated out, I'd make my way home, shooting the breeze with my friends and contemplating doing it all over again the next day.

As cool and as exciting as Pilsnec seemed, a huge capital city, full of variety and opportunity, it just wasn't my hometown. It wasn't what I'd grown up with, got used to, and it wasn't a place that I guess had become a part of me. Coming to Vodaskal, leaving everything I knew behind so that Dad could chase his dream had left me torn, and as positive as I tried to be about it, reminders of my fears were never far away.

The crowd here could have been the crowd back at our park in Nezma, but with a lot more fur and way more Velikan. Cheers and whooping were universal. No need to speak a language to get their meaning. But for everything else, just like the shop signs and the conversations on the street, everything was a code that I just didn't have the tools to break. Honestly, I figured Polcian would be more... common? I'd been told that almost everyone, people my age especially, spoke it here too. The reasoning for why a lot of people from Kharsia, or Ekrea in general stuck mostly to neighbourhoods like Kosnerka made a little more sense once I thought about it. They offered familiarity. A home away from home. Kinda.

I hadn't realised it, but all my thinking about times both gone and still to come had pulled me further and further in two. Half of me could see myself carving around the bowl back in Nezma, while the other half saw me airing out up onto the surface for a break here in Pilsnec.

In the end, I did both and neither. My head kinda came back together just in time to find myself airborne, half a second from the concrete. I'd taken a sketchy line, but I had no time or way to correct myself. My wheels clapped down at the edge of the bowl, taking my board left while the rest of me jinked to the right. I went airborne again, but in all the wrong ways.

"Board!" I hit the ground hard. The air oofed out of my lungs. My elbow took the worst of the fall. Momentum took me onto my side. I saw my board race off across the concrete, skipping and sliding. It clipped the edge of the bowl. Took off. The fence dividing the two size sections caught it. Loudly. All eyes in the spot seemed to turn on me. A few voices piped up, snapping, crying out in Velikan. I didn't need to crack any codes to hear the annoyance.

Sitting up, my elbow told me all about my slam. It started to burn, searingly sore. I was glad to find my jacket still in one piece. The same went for my jeans. Putting a hole in anything would've made for a great start here, and for an even better conversation with Dad once he found out about it.

Some dude called out from behind me, sounding less upset than those that'd chewed me out. I shifted around, peering off over towards the big bowl. There, that bike-riding raccoon sat watching, arms resting on its bars. I guess my lack of language skills was obvious, because he spoke on before I even got the chance to say 'huh?'.

"You good? You slammed hard, my guy."

"Yeah," I replied, meeting him in Polcian. "I'm fine."

"Damn, man." That tank top wearing ferret from the railing earlier rolled into view. "Jacket and jeans? It's hot out today, y'know?"

"Probably cushioned the fall at least," the raccoon said, snorting.

They switched it back to Velikan, chatting some more between themselves before heading off away from the bowl together. Honestly, I wasn't upset over being left alone to pick up the pieces. Plus, I could grab my burning elbow and suck air between my teeth in privacy.

"Yo! You all sweet, Slim?"

That voice called out from... someplace. I'd just about heard it above the clap of a skunk jumping out of the big bowl with way better success than my attempt.

"Saw and felt that slam from all the ways over here."

I heard that clearer, tracking it over towards the fence. It took me a little bit, but after a quick watch of all those smaller skaters whizzing around on their tiny boards, I noticed one dude in particular looking my way.

"Come on, I know you speak Polcian," the fennec called, standing on the knee-high deck of a halfpipe. "I heard you talking to those jokers just then." His grin shone through the dirty chain links, messy green and yellow-streaked headfur bursting wildly from under his helmet, sweeping in all directions between his large ears. "You okay?"

"Yeah..." I cradled my elbow, testing out a slow bend and straightening of my arm. "Just a little knock, that's all."

"If that's a little knock, I don't wanna know about what you call a big one."

He kept that big smile going, little tail swinging around from behind his baggy shorts. I had to say, it helped my elbow not hurt so much. "I'll try not to share."

"If you're looking for your board, bud, it sailed all the way off over here." I followed his pointing down from the pipe deck, over towards a funbox set up on this side of the fence. That's where I found my board laying darkside, wheels up, nose peeking out from behind. "It's still in one piece. Somehow."

"Dude, I didn't slam that hard."

"You coulda gone harder?"

I brushed myself off and climbed up onto my feet. He looked even smaller from here. The halfpipe he was standing on, too. "I mean, I've had harder ones back home."

"Might wanna keep 'em there."

"Pfft." I walked on over towards the box, waiting for a vixen on her blades to roll on past before moving to grab my board. The whole time, that fennec dude kept on staring down at it, tail swaying even harder than before.

"Slim, I gotta say, that's a pretty sick deck you've got yourself." He took a lean on the guardrail, stroking his chin. "The colours pop, y'know? And that blocky brown gecko guy is cool."

"Oh..." I bent down to pick it up, pausing to check it out some more myself. Set on a background of jagged reds, blacks and purples, an abstract-style version of a dude kinda based on me with an added purple mohawk posed as if pulling some big air. "Thanks. I painted it myself."

"Hold up." He waved an arm, frowning. "You painted that?"

"Yeah."

"No way! Ya pulling my tail, Slim."

"No, honestly." I moved myself and my board away from the park equipment, strolling on over to the fence. "I like to draw. Paint... Art's kinda my thing."

"Man... That's legit."

"Legit?"

"Yeah! Like... skate shop legit? I'd expect to see that on a rack, y'know?"

"Nah, come on. It's... decent, but--"

"No, for real! This is totally rad."

"Well... Thanks. Again." I set my board down right next to where that Maleni halfpipe backed onto our part of the park, using it as a seat and leaving this dude about chest-height with me. "Appreciate it."

We spoke some more about my deck and the reasons behind designing my own. When I left the apartment that afternoon, determined to get to a skatepark, I never expected to be sat down chatting away with a dude the size of a soda bottle.

I told him how me and my friends back home used to talk about how nifty it'd be to have custom decks, if only we could afford something like that. Whether they were serious or not, the idea stuck with me for a long time, and in the end, I couldn't resist experimenting with what I could throw together. One plain deck and a lot of time and effort later, my abstract gecko design was born.

"Damn," he intoned, stepping aside to let a Maleni wolf drop into the halfpipe behind him. "How long did it take?"

"Weeks... I can't remember exactly, but my friends had forgotten all about the idea by the time I showed 'em it."

"And what did they think?"

"They begged me to put something together for them as well."

"Hah, I feel it, I feel it." He scratched at his big ear, near to the disc earring towards its tip. "And did ya?"

I nodded. "It kinda ended up as a... crew style, almost. Not that we_were_ a crew or anything, but just..."

"Just friends that hang, I got you, I got you." The little dude lit up brighter than the green and yellow in his headfur. "Man, Slim. I'd be tempted to hit you up to do a li'l something for me too, but..."

"But?"

He kicked up his board, lifting it over his head to show me his branded deck. "This probs ain't a canvas size you've seen much of before."

I chuckled along with him, but felt the need to explain. "I mean, I've seen them, but I've not worked on them. There's lit... Maleni folk back home, too."

"Yeah, yeah, 'course, heh."

The conversation kinda stalled, but it was nice and easy to pick up again. Talking with this dude was a breeze. It'd been a while since I could chat with someone without thinking about serving or taking away their dishes. "That's a cool board you've got there yourself. The green and yellow halves, I'm thinking that's no coincidence, right?"

"Got in one." He lowered it to study the design himself. "Picked this up after I janked my old board a couple months back."

"Oof... Bad landing?"

"Kinda." He shrugged. "Bailed on a big stair jump, but the real damage was done by the Visoka guy it rolled in front of."

I got aware of my rocking on my board real fast. "You... Visoka?"

"Yeah," he said with a chuckle. "At the time, I was pissed, but looking back... I gotta say, it was funny to see that big wolf freaking about stepping on someone."

My rocking stopped. "That... happens here?"

"Nah, Slim." His smirk and frown came together to leave me even more confused. "Everything's safe and split. You don't gotta worry about peeps like me getting in your way. And likewise, I don't gotta worry about peeps like you tumbling and launching giant skateboards at my dome."

I snorted, scratching at my cheek. "Good to know."

That knee-high halfpipe was getting busier and busier with Maleni, but this dude didn't mind. Resting lower, lazier, he looked in this for the long haul. "So hey, you gotta name, or do I gotta keep calling you 'Slim'?"

"You can if you want." His ears twitched. "Name's Salim, so Slim's really not too far away."

"For real?"

"For real."

"Hah, man..." He perked all the way up, muzzle creasing with a grin. "Or I guess Sal for short? Like for salamander?"

"...Except I'm a gecko."

He put a paw to his hip. "Close enough, right?"

"Sure." I started to move my own hand to mine. "Just like a fennec and a wolf are-- Gah!"

"Yo, easy."

I grabbed my stabbing, stinging elbow, squeezing as if that might take the pain and tingling away.

"You sure you're good?"

"Ahh, yeah, yeah... Maybe I smacked my funny bone extra hard or something."

"You ain't laughing, though."

"No." Such an awful joke. I laughed anyway. "For real though, last thing I need is to mess myself up and not be able to work at the restaurant."

"Restaurant?" I nodded, easing my arm back to my stomach. "Which?"

"Bennabi's."

"Ahh." His head tilted. "Don't think I know it."

"My uncle renamed it once my Dad moved here to run it with him. Dunno what it was called before."

"Any jobs up for grabs?"

That came so hard and fast from leftfield that my board dipped back with me. "Jobs?"

"My folks are on my case daily about bagging a summer job."

"Oh." An itch on my knee needed scratching. "Well--"

"Hey, just kidding."

"Right."

"Mostly."

"Huh..." Man, he had me jumping back and forth along with him. "See, if I had my way, yeah, we'd be looking for someone to save me from washing all those lit--uh-- Maleni dishes and such."

"Heh. I feel ya."

"Besides." I sat forward, making sure to raise my good arm to point his way. "How could I swing you a job if I don't know your name?"

"Oh, man, yeah." He slapped a paw to his head. "Name's Rafik. Raf. Not like salamander."

"Got it," I said through a snicker. "Good to meet you."

"Yeah, you too, Salim. Slim."

Slim... That was starting to grow on me. I'd never had a nickname before.

"So you work full time?"

"Nah, no way! I'm just helping out over the summer break."

"School?"

"Yeah. Finishing School."

"At Kosnerka?" I dipped my head to confirm. "Same. First or second year?"

"First. I'm sixteen."

"Me too!"

"Really?"

"Yeah!" He brightened all the way up there on that deck. "Oh man, that's sick."

"Heh." In fact, I felt myself starting to warm too. "Very sick."

We'd been chatting away for long enough that I almost forgot about the board underneath me and the skatepark around us. The rumbling and hollering went on and on, but the two of us sat and stood here at close to eye level, open to keeping things rolling as if we were up and skating ourselves.

"With all that said," Raf called, gunning a finger my way. "I'm guessing you ain't from around here."

"It's that obvious?"

"Hey, steady on the sarcasm there, Slim," he shot back, smirking. "I might not be the sharpest, but what with you just moving here, it also sounds like you don't know you're a Visoka. That there's a clue almost as big as you and your sort."

"Our sort?"

"Yeah!" Raf jumped, climbing halfway up the guardrail at the back of that deck. "Big, skateboard stomping guys who ain't so hot at watching where they're going."

Damn, all that bouncing, cheerful energy of his had me forgetting all about my tender arm. "Just to be clear, I know what a Visoka is."

"Ya do now--"

"Just... Man, you bailing before getting your board mashed up under some dude's foot's a hell of a mental picture."

"Hah, that's fair I guess." He jumped back off the rail, bouncing on his heels. "So where you from?"

"Kharsia. Nezma to be exact."

"Oh? That's really cool," came his reply, quickly, shockingly, in near-perfect Ekrean.

"Hey, dude, that's... Your Ekrean's great! How--"

"Woah, woah." he threw up and waved his paws. "Too fast, too fast."

"My bad," I replied, switching back to Polcian. "Sorry."

"Nah, you're cool. See, I only really use it at home with my folks. They're from Tandara originally."

"Got it."

"Oh, and sometimes at the cafe me and my buds like too. Lotta peeps from Tandara, Kharsia and other places in Ekrea hang there."

My ears would've perked up like his if they could. "That's good to know."

"Actually... I'm heading on over there to meet up with 'em real soon. Gonna jump on the metro and head on up to the spot in Tadov. Way bigger than here. Better too, I reckon."

"Cool, yeah, I know it."

"You scoped it out already, huh? That's rad."

"Oh, uh... No. What I meant was, I saw it on a map when I was checking for spots to head to."

"Got you, got you." He scratched his chin, kinda swaying, watching me. "You wanna come tag along? If your arm's good."

That hit from my blindspot, leaving me tingling and trembling at the same time. "Uh, really?"

"Sure!" He raised up a finger. "Actually, Slim, I'm thinking you gotta. Just so you can show off that board of yours to the guys."

"Nah, it's not all that."

"Yo, for real. They'll lose their minds over it."

He sounded honest. Hearing him talk about my board so highly hit someplace between pleasing and embarrassing. All that aside, when it came to joining him and his friends at that other skatepark... Trembling soon took over the tingling. My afternoon of exploring showed signs of rising a long way from a safe, solo skate close to home.

"What you say?" Raf called, leaning way forward over the guardrail. "You coming?"

"Hmm." Swallowing was kinda hard. A drink at a cafe might've been good right about then. "Is it far?"

"The cafe?" I nodded. "Nah. It's down on Stepanska. Near the temple."

"Okay... Where's that?"

"Damn, you really are new here, huh," he said, smiling. "It's a couple minutes away. Not too far from my place."

"Cool--"

"Yo, where you living?"

"Me?" My lords, he was moving through topics as fast as he was shuffling on his feet. "On Groba. Around the corner from our restaurant, if you know--?"

"Yeah, I know it! You're only up the hill from me."

"Nice--"

"So you in? You coming?"

"Sure."

"Yeah!" He threw an arm up into a fistpump. "Awesome."

My tingling turned into full blown excitement, kicking that trembling right outta my system. As much as I was coming around to the idea anyway, I doubted Raf would've given me the chance to even consider saying no. "Will you... uh?"

His head cocked, smile spreading wider. "Will I, uh, what?"

"Will you..." I took a second, even though I knew exactly what I wanted to ask. Thing is, was it something I should be? Damn, for the first time, I could've really used some more of Uncle Adel's Maleni advice.

"Spit it out, Slim. I ain't gonna bite."

"Heh, nah, I know--"

"Even if I did, I don't think you'll feel much."

I spat out a weird explosion of a laugh. That just seemed to entertain him even more. "Do you want a ride or something?"

"Sure--"

"Like... carry you. Instead of you having to use those little paths and all."

"That's kinda how a ride works," he tossed back, denying me enough time to feel stupid by rolling right into a big, "Thanks, man. That'll be awesome."

"No problem." I scoped out the fence, tracing it further and further along, towards the big bowl on our side of the park and the smaller version on the other. "Is there a gate you can use to come this side?"

"Nah, none."

I pushed myself up onto my feet, moving Raf and the halfpipe deck back down to knee-level. "Shall I meet you out front?"

"Pfft." He batted that away. "Ain't no need for that."

"Then what--?"

"Hold on." He dropped and jumped onto his board in a single move, rushing on over to the coping at the top of the vert. "Dropping!"

In a flash, Raf disappeared down into the pipe, reappearing again on the opposite vert amongst the other guys skating their lines. He didn't leave me hanging too long, slowing enough to pull a nifty double kickflip right off the flat of the pipe and out onto the concrete.

"Are you gonna... climb over?"

"Man, that fence is even taller than you," he yelled, rolling my way. "I ain't climbing nothing."

"So..."

"So imma think slim, Slim and squeeze on through!"

He sure wasn't lying. Raf jumped off his board, kicked it up and dropped it on through one of the chain links. Not missing a beat, he pretty much jumped at the fence, finding his footing across two strands of wiring.

"Don't get stuck," I felt the need to say, watching him dip his head and start pushing forward.

"It's all good." The harder he went, the more his big ears got forced down to his helmet. "I got you here."

"Me?"

"Yeah!" he groaned, head halfway through, skin and fur getting pulled further and further back. "If this does go bad... You can use your overgrown Visoka superstrength to bust a hole for me."

"I... don't think that's a superpower I've got."

"No?" Head free, he slipped his arms through and started shoving his shoulders between the wiring. "Man, what kinda Visoka _are_you?"

"The kind that's not sure what he'll do if you wedge yourself in this fence."

"Slim..." His chest followed, then his stomach. "I ain't getting wedged in nothin--"

In a flash, so rapid that I actually jumped, he popped on through, tail slapping the fence before his legs stopped him falling square on his muzzle.

"Here." I crouched and bent down fast, throwing him my hand.

He grabbed hold, paws finding both sides of my palm. "Thanks, bud."

"It's all good."

Properly balanced, Raf tugged the rest of himself on through, grabbing up his little board as I reached to unzip my jacket pocket.

"Hey..." His eyes twitched narrower. "You planning on putting me in there?"

I stopped, hand frozen on my zipper. "...If that's cool?"

"Nah. Don't be treating me like your wallet or some such."

"Sorry. My bad."

"Heh, you're good." He pointed up towards my shoulder. "You got yourself a hood on that thing. Put me up there."

"...My hood?"

"Don't sound so shocked. That's where I usually ride with my other Visoka buds." He patted the top of his chest. "That or in their collar."

"...Hood seems safer than collar."

"Ah, you're fine! I'm used to it."

"But I'm not."

"You're..." His jaw locked up, hung open. "Ahh, got it, you're not from 'round here, got it."

"No," I said, chuckling and shaking my head. "Not even close. Like we've been saying."

"Heh, my bad, my bad. That's fair."

Finally, we found the same wavelength. Raf had no hesitation in jumping up into my palms. I wondered, would he have been so quick on his feet if he knew that was my first time handling a Maleni? Either way, he crouched on down and took a seat, grinning the whole time I lifted him up towards my shoulder.

"Don't gotta be so tense, Slim."

"I'm not. I'm cool."

"Heh, you ain't."

"Why d'ya say that?"

"Bud, you're so stiff I can feel it."

I sighed, loosened. Damn, he wasn't wrong. "Are you gonna be able to climb in okay?"

"Yeah." Hands up by my shoulder, his own smaller paws started grabbing at my jacket. "It's right there."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"It's a big drop, that's all."

"Thanks for the reminder there, bud."

"Just saying!"

"Yeah, I feel ya, but--"

"I'll bend down."

"You don't gotta--"

"I'll crouch on down."

"Woah--"

"That way it's less risky."

He flopped back into my hands, leaning around to shake that toothy smile at me. "Slim, I dig your concern, I really do."

"No prob--"

"But damn, you gotta chill."

In the end, with Raf snickering his thoughts about it the whole way, I hunkered right down until I was pretty much sitting on the concrete. From there, he climbed out over my shoulder and into my hood. Wow... he was so small and light, weighting on my jacket but barely even the slightest bit on me. I'm sure saying it out loud would've gotten me snorts and smirks, but for real, how could I not wanna be at least a little overcautious?

"Yo." A tapping at the back of my shoulder turned my head. There, I found Raf peeking up at me. "You like makroudhs?"

"Wha...?"

"Little diamond cake things. Got dates and--"

"Yeah, yeah, I know 'em." My lords, this dude was so scatty, honestly. "Just took me a minute to follow, that's all."

"C'mon, with those long legs, it can't be that hard to keep up."

"Heh. Man..." Scatty and fun, too. "Yeah. I like makroudhs, dude."

"They're fuckin' awesome at the cafe we're headed to. You gotta try some."

"Yeah, might." My knees were starting to go stiff; time to stand back on up again. "My Dad cooks up some good ones, too."

"Yeah?" His ears twitched. "Hey, you think he'd hook me up with a freebie?"

"No."

"Damn." He poked at the side of my neck. "Shut down that hard, huh?"

"That's a nicer answer than you'd get from him direct."

"Oof. Got you, got you." Still shining that smile, he leaned even further over my shoulder. "I'll have to swing on by to try some sometime."

"Yeah! You should... That'd be cool."

"Rad." Raf's tail wagged hard against the inside of my hood. "Anyways. We good to go?"

"Good to go."

"Awesome." He threw out an arm, pointing off towards the crowded street and its big buildings. "Skate on, Slim! Makroudhs and more skating awaits."

I stepped onto my board and pushed us off on our way to that cafe. Heh, when I got home, I'd have to tell Dad that he definitely needed to keep his makroudhs on the menu.