*No different? Really?* Buddy had waited patiently outside. Now it yipped, trying to draw his attention. It was hungry. So was he. Confused, angry, and ravenous. Lately it hadn’t mattered how often, or how much he ate. Hunger was his constant companion. Yet when the scent of freshly baked bread and stew wafted over where he stood from the marketplace he felt only nauseous.
He had been a good man. Hunted? Yes. But just small animals, rabbits mostly, and prepared them over fire before eating. Even Buddy had adapted on eating cooked meat instead of raw. Now mere thought of red meat, still dribbling with blood the beating heart kept pumping made his mouth water.
*Stop it,* he whispered quietly and shook his head, donning the hood of his cloak again. Made his way over to where a woman was selling smoked and dried meat. He bought generous amount of it with few copper coins he still had left. Meat was dark brown, nearly black, and tasted nothing but salt. He chewed on the leathery strips and flushed them down with water he drew from the well, wondering what to do next. Buddy had discarded few scraps of meat he had thrown for it and left. It was probably hunting for mice. Small, pliant bodies flowing with life. He wanted to join to its company. Feel the thrill of the hunt. Taste the warm blood. He forced himself to stay on the porch of his new home. Salt was bitter on his tongue, but if he imagined enough, it was almost close enough for the real thing.
Everything seemed to be so normal. Just an ordinary village, filled with ordinary men and women, doing ordinary things in the light of the day. Everybody was friendly. Complete strangers passing by nodded him their greetings. Children played at his feet, just few meters away. Scent of Marie was floating in the air, faint, but traceable. It hadn’t rained for few days. He could follow it. He could follow it as long as he kept close to the house. The further he got the more jumbled the trail got, until he lost it completely. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Marie. He would have to find her. He would find her, eventually. He was sure of it.
*Maybe she really just left. Maybe she’s out there looking for… Me?* Yes. He could see her, on her horse. She had her herbs and weapons with her. She was fine. She was better than alright. She was very alive, just slightly worried. Those brown eyes scanning her surroundings. Hand clutching the hilt of her sword. Shrouded in silver from head to toe.
He felt only marginally better when he opened his eyes. But better enough to actually take a good look around him. These weren’t hideous beasts. These weren’t animals he had sworn to slay. People surrounding him were just people. Men and women with children, trying to get through their lives, just like anybody else.
Realization made it even harder to comprehend Marie’s actions. Why she had left? Everything she had wanted she could have found from here. Even husband. Logan snorted and narrowed his eyes. Alaric. From what his father had told him, boy had become quite close with Marie. He would have to talk with him as soon as he returned with Matt and the rest of his crew. Judging from the position of the sun being quite low on the sky it wouldn’t take long.
He had left his new home without really taking a good look around him. He decided it was time to snoop around. Maybe he could find something, anything that would clear the situation for him.
House was small. First floor was organized to some kind of store. Small pot hung in the cold fireplace. There was something in it. Hardened tallow. She had been making candles. To sell them? Probably. There was only one room upstairs. A bed. Dressing table. Small stool in the corner with pail and pitcher placed on top of it. Small lump of soap next to them. He opened the drawers from the dressing table. They were all empty except the top one. It held her hairbrush. The one she had gotten from Claude. He pocketed the brush. She would want it back. She had loved those combs and brushes.
Her scent was strongest here. He walked to the bed. Caressed the sheets with one clawed paw. She had slept on those. Pillow was saturated with her scent. He lifted it up to his face and inhaled deeply. Tears. Sweat. Marie. Herbs. He buried his face to it. He felt like crying. He felt like tearing in to the pillow. He felt like reaching out, she was there, had been there just days ago, and if he tried hard enough he could catch her before she disappeared and everything would be okay.
Except nothing was okay. She was skilled candle maker. She wouldn’t have left tallow in the pot. The thing was nearly full of spoilt tallow. She wouldn’t have left the hairbrush. And she would have probably found a way to take several of the items still left in the house with her.
Knock on the door interrupted him.
*What the hell happened in here?* He snarled, his teeth bared and grasped the front of Alaric’s shirt, pulling him in and closing the door. Alaric fought against his hold feebly, trying to avoid touching him with his bare hands. Logan slammed him against the door and curled his free left hand around young man’s throat. Scent of burning flesh and blood made his mouth water.
“Let go… Let go… Burns…” Alaric’s face distorted to a pained grimace.
*Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t snap your neck, runt…* Logan purred, leaning closer and flashing rows of silvery fangs for Alaric. Man paled and fell limp.
*One good reason, that’s all I’m asking…*
“I know where she is…”
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