White the Cursed

08 - The last hurrah

He slept off most of the day in hopes time would pass faster and he would gather enough energy for the night. Emma was in his dreams, as she was when alive. Joyful, smiling and giggling at his jokes, pouting when he teased her. It felt like she was there to welcome him, telling him she was waiting for him in death, at the bottom of the pond. As gruesome as it could sound, this idea gave him strength and courage.

When he opened his eyes, he saw a shiny sky of mid-afternoon. There was still a lot of time before the sunset, enough for him to get ready. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, noticing they were puffy. It didn't matter, there was enough time for it to go back to normal before he went to the circus. He pulled himself from under the blanket and scooted to the pond so he could wash his face. Though it was just the beginning of fall, temperatures were already low, and his cold hands made the water freezing. It felt nice.

He wetted his face two times before putting some in his hair too. He stopped as he noticed his hands covered with diluted dye. That made him pause. Should he wash it off ? Should he better try and keep as much dye as possible ? But he didn't have anything to fix it since he didn't have access anymore to Mary's workshop.

It was the last time he was going to see Hiccup and the others, and he didn't want his last memories of them, or their last memories of him, to be the discovery of his curse, the arguing that would follow, nore the rejection. So he looked at his reflection in the water and tried to see how was the dye. He couldn't see clearly, but his hair still seemed dark enough to be human. Granted it was not the same dark chestnut as the previous night, it got lighter, but at least it was not white.

He sighed and used his blanket to dry his face and carefully pat his hair. More stains spoiled the beige fabric. He winced and stopped before he ruined the dye. Then he looked at his clothes and remembered he only had a nightgown and cape left. He couldn't decently present himself dressed like that at the circus. Granted he would be hidden in the crowd at first, but if he was going to visit the artists afterhand, he needed pants. And some coins for the entry.

He sighed heavily as he realised he had to go back to the village, some way or another. He had never stealed before, even the few coins from Jonathan were actually coming from his previous pocket money, from when he was human. He had always been honest, so having to steal something – even as tiny as a pair of pants and four copper coins – it made him feel guilty.

So he decided to wash the blanket and take it with him. He would feel better if he made an exchange. A pair of pants were worth the blanket, even if all the dye hadn't come off, maybe even two copper coins with it ? He made sure to pull his hood over his head before he spotted the village's houses. He looked from afar the goes and backs of the villagers, busy with their day. He finally found something interesting as he spotted a drying rack behind one of the houses. An old lady was sitting on a bench near by, but aside from her there was noone. She was the only one who could see him, so he only had to distract her.

He thought about it for a long moment before he got an idea as he saw a plant pot a few steps from her. He picked up a pebble and aimed. With the countless snowball fights he had thrown in his childhood and his teenage years, he had become an expert and had bragged he was never missing his target. He swiftly threw the peeble and hit the pot, managing to topple it. He winced as the clay broke on the wooden floorboard, the earth and flowers spreading out.

The old lady startled and got up to quickly get a closer look. She looked at the pot, then around her, looking for the culprit. Jack stayed hidden behind a tree as she lifted a fist and scolded despite her tired voice.

''Bloody brats ! Go back home right away before I catch you !''

She grumbled and focused back on the pot, bending to gather the debrits and the dirt. It was Jack's shot. Coming out of his hiding spot, he dashed to the drying rack. He had spotted a pair of pants which seemed to fit him and quickly took it, leaving the blanket in exchange, then rushed back to the woods just as fast as he came. Back to safety by the cover of the trees, he slipped his thin legs in the pants. It was slightly too large but, at the same time, too short. It ended just under his calves, so he rolled down the bottom to make it look like he did it on purpose. However, it was slipping on his hips. He groaned, exasperated, and decided to tear off a band from his nightgown to turn it into a belt. He slipped the remains of the nightgown in his pants and convinced himself he was decent. Since he couldn't do any better, he could only hope his cape would be enough to hide it.