Sora frowned, unsure of what to think of the mercenary's words. She didn't know what he meant by listening to the wind, but observing his keen ears, it seemed meaningful. "Perhaps they are somewhere far overseas, in a different land?"
Burn shook his head. "The Wind speaks to us, Sora." He gave her a bleak smile. "It tells us many secrets. These ears are for more than just good looks, you know.”
Sora grinned wryly. The humor faded fast, along with Burn's smile.
“It is part of our race's heritage,” he murmured, “to be able to hear the Wind. There are no Wolfies left because the wind carries no knowledge of them."
"You mean the Wind of the Goddess, don't you?" Sora asked, interested. Burn had never mentioned this before. She didn't know much about Wolfy lore. "The Wind Goddess is what speaks to you?"
Burn raised his eyebrows in amusement. "There were things that existed before the gods and goddesses, Sora, and the Wind was one of them. It is that Wind that speaks to us, and there is no knowledge left of the Wolfies."
Now Sora was confused. What did Burn mean—things that existed before? "I don't understand," she said.
"The old world is being forgotten and a new world is forming." Burn smiled sadly. "The Elements came before the gods and goddesses, Sora. They created the world we live in.”
"But...what happened to them?”
"Each race's lore is different. Some say they disappeared. Others say that we live inside of them. That everything is made from the Elements." Burn winked at her. "It could all just be a grand tale."
Sora sat quietly, considering his words. She hadn't met any of the other races, only the Wolfies. She just couldn't agree with him. There had to be more out there, somewhere, perhaps hidden, perhaps ignorant of their own heritage.
“That must be hard for you,” she murmured. She couldn't imagine the loss of her own race, her own people. It must be terribly...lonely.
“Dorian kept my hope alive. I thought that someday, we would find a lost colony of Wolfies, some unheard-of civilization. But I suppose that's just a dream, isn't it?” Burn sighed. “Someday, I'll be dead too. And perhaps the Wolfy race with me.”
Sora felt sick. She wished she could say something helpful, but there were no words. She put her hand on Burn's arm. Hopefully he would understand.
They sat in silence for a few depressing minutes, each lost in thought. Sora's mind turned to Volcrian. Had he followed them through the swamp—or was he miles away, taking the long road, traversing the mountains to reach them? She knew the hunt wasn't over yet. He had only killed one member of their party—and it wasn't Crash.
Sora wondered why Dorian and Burn had traveled with the assassin, knowing the danger they were in. Another story yet to be told.
"I thought I'd find you here," a friendly voice called from behind them.
Sora was startled from her dark reverie. She turned to see her mother striding toward them in soft pants and a white, breezy shirt. Her hair was tied up in a scarf. She smiled, her lips pressed together, as though holding back a thought. "I've been looking for you two. Dinner's on the table. You've been gone for hours!"
Sora blinked. "Hours?" It was only then she noticed that the afternoon sun was turning to deep orange, dipping low in the sky.
Her mother frowned. "And you're still recovering, too," she murmured, then turned upon the Wolfy. "Burn...."
He leapt to his feet and swept over to Sora's mother, taking her by surprise. His mood seemed instantly changed—or perhaps expertly hidden.
"Why, my gorgeous host," he said, blatantly flattering. "I knew that you, with your kind, forgiving heart, wouldn't mind Sora staying out a bit longer than planned. Especially when there is so much to talk about."
Sora's mother snorted. "So you think it's funny to leave me in the house all day with Crash? That man is horribly unsociable, you know."
This time Sora and Burn both laughed. Burn's ears twitched. "All right, all right. Sorry, it won't happen again," he said.
Her mother grinned. "Good. You're forgiven. Now if you don't mind, I'm starving."
With false enthusiasm, Burn and Sora mounted their horses and followed Lorianne back down the trail.
All was relaxed and peaceful once more, but Sora couldn't help but be troubled over Burn's story. She looked back at Dorian's grave. Life changed so quickly, so unexpectedly—how many dreams had been lost with Dorian's death? How many plans? She wondered what Burn's plans were now, if he wanted to move on or if he would just stay at Lorianne's house forever.
She wondered suddenly if her friends would ever free themselves of Volcrian's hunt, if they would get the chance to pursue a different life, one that they wanted. And what about herself? Her own dreams? And what are those? she wondered.
She could no longer come up with an answer.
* * *
After dinner, Sora watched Crash leave the table. He was quiet and withdrawn as usual, only offering a few comments during the meal. She wondered what was on his mind.
She excused herself, following him upstairs. Burn and Lori barely noticed her leave. They were gently arguing over the healing properties of willow bark.
She gnawed her lip, wondering what to say when she caught up to the assassin. “You seem quiet” didn't sound like the best approach.
She was surprised to find him waiting in the hallway. But of course he had heard her follow him. She paused, staring at him awkwardly, taken off-guard.
He was dressed in black, but she hadn't seen him wear his knives since he had come to Lori's house. His dark hair was slightly longer now, sweeping low around his ears, brushing across his forehead. He faced her, waiting, his eyes flickering over her. Perhaps curious.
“Crash,” she said, then stopped. She felt suddenly awkward, unsure of what to say. “Uh...it was a good meal, right?” Stupid, she could have kicked herself.
He nodded, his shoulders loosening. He shifted his weight to one foot, slightly more relaxed.
She sighed. “I just...I wanted to tell you....” What? What had she been thinking, following him up here?
“How is your wound?” Crash asked instead.
Sora's mouth opened. “Fine,” she stuttered. “Uh, almost fully recovered. Perhaps we can begin training soon.”
He glanced away. She felt his withdrawal like a passing cloud pulling back over the horizon. She frowned. Perhaps she had said something wrong.
“I wanted to tell you,” she started again, “that Lord Fallcrest wasn't my father.”
He looked back up at her. His expression was guarded.
She took a step toward him, slightly bolder now. “I just wanted you to know,” she said, pushing on. “What you did was horrible...but...well....” What was she trying to say? That killing a stranger was better than her own blood? Feelings of guilt swarmed inside of her. She had felt far more grief over Dorian's death than she had for the man who had raised her. But was it truly her fault? Lord Fallcrest had treated her as less than family. Dorian had embraced her with open arms.
“He wasn't my father,” she finished lamely.
Crash waited, then shook his head, as though inwardly amused. “Is that all?” he murmured.
She nodded, gnawing at her lower lip.
“Hm,” he grunted. “You should get your rest. You were out for a long time today. You're not as recovered as you might feel.” Then he turned, slipping quietly down the hall, into the last bedroom on the left where he and Burn slept.
Sora watched him go. She frowned, wondering at his words, wishing she could say more. She had been doing a lot of thinking these past weeks. He was still a killer, a man capable of unimaginable destruction...but there was something else inside him.
I'm being sentimental, she thought, and turned to her room. He's an assassin. He doesn't care.
* * *
That same week, things started to change.
Crash and Burn took to locking themselves in their room, speaking softly so Sora couldn't hear what was being said. She paid no
attention at first, but after a while, it began to worry her. She caught them poring over maps. Discussing roads. Making plans.
As though sensing the change, the weather turned darker. Clouds moved in. “Another bout of rain,” her mother said cheerily as she brought herbs in from the garden. “The farmers will be happy. No drought this year.”
The clouds lingered. As soon as one storm passed, another took its place, blowing in from the ocean. It felt like winter all over again.
It was the second week of rain when Crash caught her alone. She was looking out the window of her bedroom, bored and wishing to go outside, even if it was pouring. Her mother still fussed over her wound, convinced that she hadn't yet recovered, even though Sora felt fine. Stronger, even, than she had a year ago.
Abruptly the assassin was next to her, catching her off-guard. She squeaked in surprise, then flushed with embarrassment. I should be used to this by now. She looked up at him, waiting, wondering how she hadn't heard him enter the room.
He shifted. "Watching something?" he asked.
Small talk? "Eh...no, just the rain," she muttered, unsure of what to think.
"That's nice," he said plainly, as if he didn't think it was nice at all. Crash had been acting like this—forcibly sociable—since their moment in the hallway. However, she didn't like the silence one bit.
"You wanted something?" she asked bluntly.
Crash looked down at her and then quickly averted his eyes back to the window. He was holding something back, she could feel it. Crash—speechless? Not bloody likely. She watched him, and her irritation slowly turned to amusement. He shifted again. His mouth tightened.
"We're going to be leaving," he said quietly. He watched her carefully, and Sora realized he was waiting for a reaction.
"Well, I guessed that a while ago," she said with a shrug. All of the whispering in the bedroom had tipped her off. "When? Will it be soon?" Why is he looking at me like that? Was he really so surprised that she had known their plans? I'm not a simpleton!
"I don't think you understand," the assassin said slowly. "We're leaving you here."
Sora rocked forward. "What?" she exclaimed. This seemed to be the reaction he had been expecting. She scowled at the look on his face. "You're leaving me here? But why? How...?"
"Listen," he said, and sat down on the footstool in front of her. Apparently he had been practicing this little speech. "This is for your own good. As long as you're with us, you're in danger." He gave her a solemn look. "Volcrian will leave you alone as long as you stay out of the way. I don't think he'll find you here. Burn and I have to keep moving or else he'll catch up, and I don't..." Crash swallowed, "I don't want this to happen again."
"What to happen again?"
"This, Sora!" he said harshly.
She sat back, stunned by his show of emotion. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.
“You almost died!” he said sharply. “Dorian is gone, and I don't want any more innocents killed—not at my expense, not at anyone's expense!"
She looked at him seriously. This, from an assassin? "Yeah...but you need me, remember? I have the Cat's Eye. And besides, I'm just fine."
"It was too close, Sora. We thought...." He paused again, darkness passing over his face. "I don't want to have to worry about it. Burn and I both agree. You're better off here."
Sora's eyes narrowed. I see what they're doing...I'm too much trouble. She wasn't skilled enough, she would just get in the way and endanger everyone. Just as she had Dorian. She knew what they weren't saying. It was her fault he was dead. She hadn't acted in time. Useless.
Tears stung her eyes. She gritted her teeth.
"I understand," she said quietly, flatly. "You do what you have to do." If they didn't want her, she wasn't going to whine about it. All of this time, she had been no more than a burdensome child. That hurt far more than she was willing to admit.
Crash watched her closely again, as he seemed to watch everything.
Sora turned back to the window, pretending that she didn't care. "You certainly waited long enough to tell me," she said, annoyed.
The assassin crossed his arms, then started pacing. "I wasn't going to," he finally admitted. "Burn thought you had the right to know. We're leaving tomorrow before the rain gets any worse. We'll make a lot more headway in the summer months. We'll be long gone by the time the snows set in.”
Sora tried not to show her dismay. "Will you come back?" she asked quietly.
Crash paused. She could see his reflection in the window gazing down on her.
“No,” he said bluntly.
Sora purposely kept her face expressionless. She knew his reasoning, but something deep inside of her did not understand—would not understand. Was she really such a nuisance? To think, she had actually believed they were a team. Dorian's death had brought her immeasurably close to these men, and now they were leaving. I'm such a fool. I should have seen it coming.
"You'd best pack your bags then," she grunted, and waved her hand dismissively. She looked once more outside the window. This time she didn't see the rain, didn't see the trees. She focused on something deep within herself.
Because of this, she didn't see Crash hesitate. Then he was gone.
It was too soon, too quick, too painful. She couldn't believe this was finally the end.
* * *
Appropriately, it was still raining the next morning. If it had been bright and sunny, Sora would have felt even worse. She stayed in bed for a long time after waking up, staring out the window, watching the rain drip down the glass. Then she turned over and tried to go back to sleep. Maybe if I don't get up, they won't leave.
There was a knock at the door.
At first she ignored it, but after another series of knocks, she decided she was being childish. She rolled out of bed. "Just a moment!" she called. The knocking continued impatiently.
She stood up and tied a bathrobe around her sleeping gown, blinking her eyes tiredly, then crossed the room and undid the bolt. The door blew inward, almost smacking her in the face.
Burn rushed inside. He swept her into the air before she knew what was happening.
"If you think you can make us wait forever, I'm afraid it won't work," he said, walking into the hall and down the stairs. "Can't stay in bed if I carry you, you see." His eyes met hers, losing a bit of their cheer. "We're almost ready to leave."
Sora felt her heart sink. Burn kicked open the front door and strutted outside into the rain. He placed her lightly on the ground. She stood in the cold, her arms wrapped around herself, her hair drenched. A shiver ran through her as the gravel bit into the soles of her bare feet. At least the wind wasn't blowing too hard; otherwise she would have been completely miserable. Her bathrobe, which fell a little below her knees, was already soaked through. Her nightclothes clung like second skin.
A sound came from her right. She turned to see Crash tying something to his horse; he seemed to be having quite a time of it. His tall black boots dug into the gravel as he pulled on a rope that kept slipping out of its knot. His muscles were tense, tight. He looked irritated.
His heavy arm rested on her slim shoulders. Sora looked up at Burn. There was a slight smile on his face as he watched the assassin. Leaning over, he whispered, "Aren't you going to say goodbye?"
Sora frowned at the odd suggestion, then looked over at Crash. Goodbye? she thought, a bit of anger coloring her thoughts. He wasn't going to say goodbye to me.
Her eyes glanced to the ground.
“Sure,” she said wryly, and bent down, scooping a large ball of mud out of a puddle. Burn watched her curiously, his ears twitching. She pulled back her arm, taking aim.
“Sora,” he said slowly. “I don't think....”
Sora hurled the ball of mud across the small gravel drive. It struck the back of Crash's neck with a satisfying splat! She grinned and put her hands on her hips, standing a bit taller.
The assassin paused. He lifted a hand to the back of hi
s neck. When he turned to look at her, she glared at him. “That's for wanting to leave without telling me!” she growled.
Crash stared at her as though she had gone mad. Sora didn't care. On impulse, she reached down and grabbed another fistful of mud, packing it into a wet, slimy ball. “And this,” she said. “Is for dragging me through Fennbog!” She hurled the mud ball at him, already reaching for the next one. It struck him in the chest. Crash didn't even try to dodge.
A burst of exhilaration moved through her, and Sora kept at it, slowly stepping forward, grabbing one clod of mud after the next. “And for tying me up!” she yelled, striking his shoulder. “And for stealing my money! And for drugging me! And for kidnapping me!” This time, she pelted the ball at his face.
Finally he dodged, ducking beneath the flying wad of dirt.
She threw herself at him, full of pent-up frustration. She didn't care that he was an assassin, that he could slit her throat faster than she could say his name. She launched into the air and tackled him, trying to shove him into a deep puddle next to the horse.
Crash grappled with her, pushing her off, but she kept at it, slipping through his grip. It felt good to use her new-found combat skills. For a moment, they went toe to toe, sparring next to the horse. The assassin moved smoothly, like a snake in the grass, but Sora had anger on her side. She backed him around his steed, closer to the edge of the puddle. She got the feeling that he was letting her win.
Sora wasn't sure if he meant to fall, or if he truly slipped on the wet ground. She suspected the former. Either way, he grabbed her arm and dropped backwards, dragging her with him. Sora screamed. The two went tumbling into the puddle, splashing into the muddy water as though falling into a lake.
“Bastard!” Sora yelled, drenched. The water was cold and murky, almost a foot deep. She tried to drag herself out of the puddle, but Crash caught her ankle, pulling her back in.
“Let me go!” she shrieked.
“Not until you cool off,” the assassin replied, and dunked her back into the water.