It wasn't long before Ylvir went into the building and entered his room, collapsing onto the floor. Dandy seemed to have sensed his distraught feelings, completely alert despite the late hour and the season.
Ylvir ran a paw over the back of his neck, letting his head lean back against the wall. He sat like that for some time, sorting through his thoughts with such focus that he barely noticed when Dandy placed her head against his arm.
His gaze swiveled to her and she cocked her head at him curiously. He sighed.
"We're leaving, Dandy," he said tiredly.
He had given it a lot of thought. He hadn't been sure if it was wise to still visit his parents. After all, he had just lost control again...
No, he didn't lose it--he let it go. He couldn't decide if that was more reassuring or not. It raised so many questions and subsequent fears as there was no good way to come about their answers.
But he had made a promise to himself to visit them. And besides that, he just had this urgent feeling he didn't know the origins of, but it told him that he absolutely had to see his parents now. Nonetheless, he was still relectant to, but he would swallow his pride this once to see them, even if it was to give a final goodbye. No more next time's. He realized this much. He may not have been wise enough to separate himself from others before, but he was now. He had his fun for a good while, but it was over now.
He wished that he could have been more than a beast like the girl said.
He wished he could be a musician, or even a farmer like his father-- anything but the thing he really was. Perhaps he could be. He could find some land somewhere away from everyone else and survive off of it alone. Or not alone. He could have his own animals to befriend and work with as he had before. Dandy could come with him. She could have friends of her own kind and maybe even start a family.
That thought broke him, and it wasn't until then that he realized he had been weeping for some time, perhaps even in front of the girl as he saved her. It was such a silly thing to hope for, and he knew it, but he couldn't help himself. He couldn't help but hope. His mother had taught him that much over the years.
Sniffling, he swallowed his tears and stood, gathering his things together. Dandy squawked and flapped her wings at him as he bustled about the small room.
"No, we're not coming back," Ylvir said, scooping her up a little roughly for her liking, and walking to the kitchen.
When he got there, he raided the pantry, taking a few of the salted meats and a half loaf of stale bread and stowing them in his pack. And then he left.
He wondered briefly if anyone would miss him, but answered himself with the surety that they would not. It was probably for the best that they didn't. It made his departure easier, in a way.
At the foot of the mountain, he looked back on the city, specks of lamp lights scattered throughout the port--almost like stars throughout the night sky. The largest and brightest gathering of the lights indicated to him where he knew the festival to be taking place--a festival that had gone just as bad as the last one, if not worse.
He gazed at the city for some time, reminiscing in the times he had there. It really was fun while it had lasted. He didn't really regret it as much as he probably should have, but he also knew he shouldn't let his mistake sully the other memories he had of the place. It didn't really seem fair to do that, for some reason.
It surprised him when he felt something cold bite at his wet nose. His eyes zeroed in on the fleck of white that lay atop it, then went to the darkened sky to see many more just like it, dancing violently. It was only then that he fully realized the cold, drawing his tattered cloak around himself and Dandy. It still smelled of blood and was ripped from his onslaught, but it was his only source of warmth now, aside from his breeches. With or without it, his journey back home would only be all the more difficult with the snowfall. He had never cared for winter. It always took that which was dear to him away. Well, not all of it.
Ylvir reached for his neck to touch the stone that had almost seemed to provide warmth for him before, only to feel his own fur, and nothing more. He patted frantically around his neck, never feeling the reassuring shape of the stone. It was gone. He lost it. He couldn't believe it. How could he lose something so precious?
He almost wanted to go back into the city just to scour the streets for it, but he knew it would be a fruitless endeavor. Instead, he counted it among his other losses and finally turned his back on Tigo Bay.
~*~
Hemorra drew her ratty clothes around herself against the buffetings of the cruel winter winds, the snow catching in her red curls, her shaky breaths clouding in the air. The house creaked and groaned as though it was about to collapse any moment. She prayed it would not. Not only because she was currently using it as a poor excuse for shelter, but it was also her only escape, and she did not care to go looking for another one.
Rubbing her hands together, she tried to bring some feeling back to her frozen digits, the gem rolling between her palms, its edges pressing into her cold skin. Perhaps it was simply her imagination, but it almost seemed to help make her warmer. When she could actually feel her fingers again, she knew something was up.
Hemorra opened her hands and tried to look at the pendant better, but there was very little light for her to see by. She could only catch the dull red gleam of it.
She felt a little bad for being so sneaky and stealing it from him, but she also felt some pride. She had never successfully stolen like that before, and it had been one of the most terrifying experiences of her life.
She sighed, drawing her knees up to her chin where she could rest it.
She didn't know what, or who, he was. Something about him both frightened her and brought out her curiosity. Of all the people in the crowd that could have saved her, he was the one that had been her rescue. She didn't like thinking of him as a beast or monster as she heard the crowd call him. It didn't seem...accurate. There was clearly more to him than what would be expected of a typical monster.
She remembered the way he had severed the man's arm with ease, how his eyes practically glowed with wrath as he was about to deliver the killing blow. She shivered, and not from the cold. Yes, he was ruthless to be certain, and that could definitely considered monstrous.
But then she remembered how he had lifted her up and carried her away like some dark angel. How he set her down with such gentleness like he thought she was something fragile and delicate, and how he had searched her tentatively, like he was looking for some sign of harm. Those were not the actions of a monster.
More importantly, though, she remembered how his eyes looked at hers. Gone was the rage, replaced by awe, which scared her in a different way. No one had ever looked at her like that. Never, not once.
And when he looked away, she saw such sadness in them, and then the tears came. She couldn't help herself. She had been scared of him, yes, but her urge to comfort him was stronger. He had saved her, after all, when no one else would. So she thanked him in the best way she could. And she was surprised to find that he was both warm and soft. She almost didn't want to let go.
But then she saw the gold chain, and she remembered what she was and what she had lost. Guilt stabbed at her as she looked at the necklace again. She shouldn't have stolen it. But she couldn't come back to her father empty-handed, either. Not when she had nothing to show for her garden.
She didn't know what she would say when she saw her father. Surely news of the spectacle the man made of her had spread, and if not far enough for him to hear, then it was only a matter of time. What would he think of her now? She knew he already thought her useless in their trade, and this only proved it. Maybe the necklace would redeem her.
But the thought of trading it away was just as wrong to her as calling him a monster. Something about it made it seem precious beyond monetary value. She knew the word for it only because her sister and father had accused her of it many times over the years...sentimental. It was a terrible thing for an urchin like herself to be, and it was why she was such an awful thief. Even after finally doing something right, she knew she was going to do it wrong. She really was too soft.
She resigned herself to it. Maybe it was better that way. Maybe she was always supposed to be soft. After all, look what had been the result of trying to be something she wasn't. She had tried to be a thief and was accused of being a witch. Her bluff had been called and she hadn't been able to fight back. She knew that if he hadn't shown up, she wouldn't have lived through it. She wished she could be a thief like her sister and father, that she could be brave and tough like them, but she couldn't. She had tried, and she had failed. The necklace had been a last-ditch effort and one her lousy conscience would not let her forget.
Hemorra sighed again, pulling the chain over her head, letting the stone slip under her thin clothes, still surprisingly warm against her the skin of her chest. It was almost as warm as he was, and she almost didn't feel the cold anymore, instead gazing at the soil before her.
It was permafrost now, but come springtime, it would be ready for her and her seeds again. Maybe not all was truly lost. Had she not lost her profits that night, the garden would have been an all-out success. She vowed to herself then that if she couldn't be a thief, she would make the garden work.
As she continued to lay in the old house, her eyes growing heavy with sleep, she looked to the Cursed Castle. Maybe she just imagined it, but before she lost consciousness, she could have sworn she saw his dark figure atop that mountain...