Hellbeast

10

1070 words

•———————•

Damen had left Horus shortly after their in-depth discussion, telling him to rest more, and that he'd wake him up the following morning with breakfast. Horus was worried, thinking Damen was either thinking he was crazy or he was going to alert the bounty hunters. Which of course, he probably had every right to do so with a probably crazed loon hiding away in his house. Even though Horus knew Damen wasn't that type of guy, he still was paranoid. It was his paranoia that kept him alive up to this point though, so he wondered if he should just pack up and leave before things got ugly. He had enjoyed the company. times like this rarely happened, but Horus enjoyed them while they lasted.

Before he could stop to reconsider, he packed up his few belongings and made his bed. He stepped back, looking at the room he'd come to call his own in the few weeks he'd been here, now looking as if no one had ever resided here. The way it looked before Damen gave it to him. Damen. The name left a bitter taste in his mouth, and his heart ached. Maybe if he wasn't such a coward, he'd have the strength to stay, or to even say goodbye to him in person. But Horus was a coward. He was always afraid and never trusting. Even to people like Damen. So with a quick scribble of a note gently placed onto the edge of the bed, he opened up the window and climbed out, turning to shut it, before jumping to the ground and running.

For the first time in a long time, Horus cried. He mourned the loss of a home he'd left behind, a life he wished to have but never could, a friend that had been so damn kind. The cold was harsh but he didn't focus on that. He couldn't. He was just so sad. So heartbroken. Is this what his father felt when his he came back to see his childhood home in flames? Is this what his father felt as he held his dying mother in his arms? Horus understood now why his father was never the same after Ava's death. Why he was so broken. Because now Horus was too. He'd left a piece of his heart behind, in Damen.

•———————•

Ciril frowned at the compass in his hand. It was pointing west, but moving. Slowly but surely, the arrow was turning. For the past two weeks, he was astonished to find Horus had finally stopped running around, and was staying somewhere in the mountains, in shifter territory. Just as he had reached the great forests surrounding the steep peaks, the arrow had started turning again. He sighed, pocketing the enchanted item and slinging his bag back over his shoulder, starting the treacherous climb.

A few hours passed and he'd managed to reach a strip of rock large enough to rest briefly. The sun was in the middle of the sky, warming him up from the cold that surrounded him. The clothes he wore kept him cozy, thought the chilly air didn't bother him much. The Fae were used to low temperatures. They lived in the north after all, where it was snowy most days of the year. Sometimes he wondered what it would feel like to be hot, but it'd probably be bothersome so he never bothered to try traveling south.

Getting up to stretch, he hefted up his travel bag again and continued the climb. Soon, he found his way to a trail, a narrow road snaking down the mountain. Ciril scowled at his map. "Seriously? There was a path this whole time? I climbed up for nothing? Stupid, outdated map." He grumbled some more and shoved the offending piece of paper into his bag, choosing to trust his own instincts than this misleading piece of crap. Suddenly, he heard the crunching of snow in the tree line surrounding him. He spun around, hands outstretched cautiously, preparing for an incantation.

A wolf sprung out of the bushes, green eyes boring into Ciril's own. He sighed, relieved it wasn't some kind of bandit, and let his arms down. Fae were close with nature, and thus, animals. This wolf was probably hunting or wandering about. He settled for a smile. "Hello there. Are you alright?" He paused, then crouched down. The wolf stood still, watching him cautiously. "Say, mister wolf. You haven't seen a redheaded man around here have you? About five foot eleven, gold eyes, goes by Horus Dupres?" Instead of a calm response, the wolf snarled.

Ciril blinked in surprise, then confusion. "Uhm, so you do know him? I'm not here to hurt him- if that's what you were afraid of. I'm an old acquaintance of his. I've been tracking him for months now, he's very hard to find." Ciril paused then stared at the ground. "It's like he's running from something." The wolf took a step forward, inspecting him for any kind of lie. Ciril stared back, face impassive and truthful. Finally, the wolf walked back behind the bushes and Ciril heard a series of bones cracking and skin stretching. 'Shifter.'

The man that came out from behind the bushes was tall, and heavenly to lay eyes on. He had dressed in simple black pants and a thick fur coat, brown leather boots going up to his knees. He wasn't wearing a shirt. Ciril tried hard not to stare at the refined muscle. He cleared his throat and stood up. "Hello." The man just stared down at him stoically. "Who are you." Ciril blinked. "I could ask the same." His chiseled jaw clenched, and through gritted teeth he growled, "Damen." Ciril pondered briefly if he had fallen in love with this mysterious mountain man.

"Well Damen, my name is Ciril." He held out a hand which the shifter promptly ignored. The Fae crossed his arms. "I'm assuming you know Horus then. What's your business with him? Are you looking for him as well?" The shifter blinked in recognition, before glaring into Ciril's soul. "What do you want from him." The smaller man felt as if he shouldn't outright reveal his identity quite yet, so he chose to pick his words carefully. "I'm looking for him because I believe he may be hurt, and I think he might also be in a tad bit of trouble."