Completed Oh, For One With a Soul as I

[Ninus Aurellius]

The Prince of Rats Ninus looked at the frozen corpse, quickly becoming limp next to the fire. He settled himself closer to the fire and began helping in adding sticks and dry pinecones. "A burial will do thee no good. The ground is as stone." he told Dominic. "If thy back is strong a cairn will do. Wolves cannot dig through it, man is not determined enough to move it." He settled closer to the fire and rubbed his slender hands together. He knew it would take hours and hours to build such a cairn...doing so for his own family had taken him days, and that had been in summer! In the dead of winter, where most rocks were chunks of ice and in some cases adhered to one another by frozen soil...it would take the better part of a day. He glanced at the dog and felt his gut twist in hunger. The dog could feed himself, Sigrun, and Cricet...and the fur would be warmer than canvas. If she chose to bury the dog nearby, he would let her have her ceremony, then eat the beast. Normally he wasn't so conniving, but the thought of any sort of meat after utterly failing to catch rabbits was tempting. He petted Cricet idly when she came to snuggle against him for warmth. He couldn't blame her for acting on thoughts they both shared. He stood and let Cricet have the canvas for a moment. He was shaky on two limbs, and wearing some of Churchkey's old clothes on top of his own. The scent of his father was comforting. He seized one of the snow heavy branches that draped down and lent his weight against it sharply. A loud crack was heard, as the sap frozen inside the branch weakened it and allowed him to snap it. He shook the snow off of the bough and broke it in half again, adding it to the fire. He wanted it large, roaring. He repeated the action until the fire was crackling loudly, and heat flowed over all of them. He sat down heavily back in his place and pulled the fire-warmed canvas up around his shoulders, letting his rat nestle in his lap. Jack drew closer and laid down about as heavily in the snow, snorting loudly. "Thou art far from the city." Ninus looked at Dominic. "With no horse either. I would ask where thine mind was, but I am guilty of the same sin. Grief drove my wretched body out into the snow, far from my home." He sighed and settled down, exhaustion washing over him. The poison was out of his system, but it had left him feeling as though he could sleep for a week. "Hast thou skill with wire and snare?" He asked Sigrun. "Meat would be a welcome sight."

[Sigrun Dominic]

"A burial will do thee no good. The ground is as stone."

Something clicked within the young blonde's mind. Of course, she thought, it's winter. Sighing softly, she ran her fingers along Snowe's fur, as if the canine were alive and simply sleeping. This is what you get for running out of the castle without thinking.

"If thy back is strong a cairn will do. Wolves cannot dig through it, man is not determined enough to move it."

"Cairn," she responded thoughtlessly. I don't even know what a cairn is.

Sigrun was at a lost. On one hand, she could leave him under a tree and let nature take its course, and on the other, find a way to get through the ice and snow and make him a proper burial. She stared at the crackling flames, absentmindedly chewing at her lip as Ninus rose from his place on the ground and began to hack at the branches to add to the fire. The burst of heat that came afterwards was a welcome.

"I could burn him," she suggested softly, "I could cremate him."

Ashes would be an interesting memento. She turned towards Ninus, hoping for an opinion. The young man looked tired and sickly, even as he had sobered up from whatever he'd been drinking, or feeling? He had been holding close his rat in such an affectionate manner that it hurt the blonde to watch, rather than disgust her further. She missed Snowe already.

"It's hard to let go," she mumbled, turning to watch the Inganu's still form lying upon her lap. It was then that she realized how much more disgusting she might've been to the stranger she'd just met, cradling a dead dog like it was alive. At the very least I'm sure he'd taken the necessary precautions with his pet, she thought. If it were so domesticated, it must've been somewhat clean as well.

Her thoughts were cut short by the sound of disturbed snow. She turned her head to the right and watched as the black horse settled into the ground, its heavy hooves curling inwards.

"Thou art far from the city," Sigrun turned to face Ninus as he spoke, "With no horse either. I would ask where thine mind was, but I am guilty of the same sin. Grief drove my wretched body out into the snow, far from my home."

"My mind was nowhere," she chuckled, smiling slightly, "all I could think about was how much I wanted to get out of the city."

She glanced at Snowe. "And give him a place to rest."

"Hast thou skill with wire and snare?" he asked her, "Meat would be a welcome sight."

The young blonde's features sank. "No, I'm afraid not," she gestured towards her sword, "this is all I know of."

"When was the last time you've eaten?" she asked him as she inched closer towards the fire. "Sounds as if you've been out of the city for a long time, and with many more reasons than I do."



OOCIf you're persausive enough, I think Sigrun would allow you to have Snowe to eat! It would all depend on how you use your words!

[Ninus Aurellius]

The Prince of Rats Ninus again looked at the dog. A piteous waste of flesh burning on a fire! He didn't think he could resist once the fur burned away and sizzling flesh was all that permeated the air. He didn't think Cricet could either. He frowned when he learned she couldn't make snares any more than he could, and swinging around that giant weed whacker of a sword wasn't going to make progress hunting. He again looked at the dog. He could get the fifty pounds or so of meat...Cricet could eat the bones, there would be no waste, he would make sure of it. "The shell you cradle is no longer your companion, my lady." Ninus told Sigrun gently. "Snowe is at peace, among the hunting grounds of the gods. He chases rabbits with the Hunter now." Ninus shifted to sit next to her. "It has been many turns of a day since I have eaten food cooked by man. I eat with the squirrels, raiding caches and consuming the soft children of decay I know to be safe." he said. "Thy companion is no more, but he can breathe new life into others." He waited with baited breath to see how she would receive his suggestion. Gods, he hoped she would be amenable to it. It would be tough getting the skin off of the animal, and with his small herbalism knife it would be slow going...but first...get the damned dog out of her grasp! He saw Cricet looking at the dog again, ears pricked. She was doing her best to obey him and not just tear an ear or nose off and run away...but she had lost a lot of her fat sleekness she'd had living in the city. She was a narrow, skinny creature.

[Sigrun Dominic]

"The shell you cradle is no longer your companion, my lady," she heard Ninus remark softly. The young blonde continued to caress what remained of the canine affectionately, her eyes fixated upon his quiet features. The trees that surrounded them were the same ones her father had told her not to approach and explore; the same ones she'd snuck out to see with Snowe, among other people.

"Snowe is at peace, among the hunting grounds of the gods. He chases rabbits with the Hunter now."

Sigrun exhaled heavily. The Hunter, she thought, furrowing her brows slightly, who might he be referring to?

"The... Hunter?" she looked up at him with her query. She adjusted her sitting position just as the dark-haired man inched closer to her until he was sitting beside her.

"It has been many turns of a day since I have eaten food cooked by man. I eat with the squirrels, raiding caches and consuming the soft children of decay I know to be safe."

The young blonde's stomach turned, for more reasons than one. She glanced towards Ninus defensively, her grip upon Snowe tightening. It must have been devastating to live such a life of scarcity. His insinuations had rubbed her the wrong way, however, and left her wanting to be left alone. Furrowing her brows, she shot him a sharp look and opened her mouth to speak against him.

"Thy companion is no more, but he can breathe new life into others."

Her features softened. Desperate times had always called for desparate measures. She had never recalled a time when she had to go above and beyond in order to survive, or at the very least, not with such a desperation that she would have to suggest eating the dead dog of a sentimental young woman. Sigrun gazed into Ninus' eyes and found nothing but sheer, unmitigated hope.

It was a long pause before she relinquished his gaze, and an even longer pause in which she held Snowe quietly, blankly, wordlessly. Sigrun licked her lips and pondered upon what she should do. She had never before been put into a situation like this.

"I..." she trailed off. She wanted to help. She wasn't quite sure, however, if she had it in her.

Glancing over at Ninus, she watched his eyes once more. It was an astonishment to her to find a man who seemed relatively capable of turning the tables around, considering his state of being, be so civil with her. Here was a person who had two mouths to feed including his own, and who had struggled with such a responsibility for quite seemingly a long time, all the while managing a heartache that hadn't yet been revealed to her, be so kind as to persuade her kindly into giving him something that she could so easily part with, something he needed more than she did. While he had a bit of a right to be gruff, he was gentle.

The ice in Sigrun's heart immediately melted. When had she become this way? Tears welled up in the young woman's eyes as she smiled wryly.

"I'm sorry," she looked away with a bit of a blush, chuckling, realizing that she had been wordlessly staring at the young man the entire time. Wiping away the tears in her eyes, she gave Snowe one last hug. "I'm sorry," she repeated, only this time into the ear of the Inganu's cold head. Looking at him one more time with a sweet smile, she handed the canine over to Ninus.

"Do it quickly, and when I've moved out of sight," she had to decide quickly, and act quickly, if she wanted anything to happen. She rose from her place on the floor, not wanting to spend any more time near the man and her old friend, in fear of her mind changing. The young blonde clutched at her heart and wondered, suddenly, when she had managed to learn how to feel for other people.

"I'll be back in a few bells," she turned to face the expanse of trees that grew behind them, "I won't go too far, so you may come and find me when you've finished, if you wish."

Glancing over to her coat around his shoulders, she smiled, albeit uneasily. "Keep the coat, hm? You owe me your story later."

Sigrun brisk walked past two, five, ten, twelve trees, before she finally sat down underneath one, facing away from the camp. She sighed with relief, but still felt a heaviness fill her chest with an unmistakable dread. The fire could still be seen from where she was sitting, if she were to turn around and look. Before she knew it, she was crying again.

[Ninus Aurellius]

The Prince of Rats Ninus stood stock still as she looked at him, aware that breaking the silence could lead to the loss of his meal. He was aware he could have killed her already...the poisons he had in the box alone were enough to bring down a small contingent of troops, much less a single woman out in the snow. Relief washed over him when she smiled sadly and handed him the dog. He took the corpse gently, treating it with respect as he tucked it up close to his frame. He took his small herbalism knife (which was quickly proving to be a fire lighter as well as impromptu butchering mechanism) and took the dog down into a small copse of trees. He made sure he was upwind of Jack; the horse had a poor tolerance for the smell of blood after his family's butchery. Cricet followed on his heels, her eyes up at the dog. "I owe thee a debt I cannot repay." Ninus told the dog, laying him down on a stone he cleared of snow with a few brushes of his hand. He skinned the dog, scraping the hide and giving the scraps to Cricet, which she bolted down. The half-frozen entrails disappeared even faster down her gullet, and she wasted no time when he offered her the head, paws, and tail. It kept her from intruding on his butchering and made sure nothing went to waste. She cleaned the skull like a mad thing, eating tongue, eyes, gums, muscle, even going so far as to hauling it over to Ninus' stone to crack the brain case open like an egg. When Ninus was done butchering the dog the skull had been dismembered and she was cleaning off the last of the tiny bones that made up the paws. "Thou shalt be sick by morning...thy stomach will be angry at thee for eating so swiftly." Ninus warned her. He cut down a few branches and lashed them together with strips of bark. It took a few trial and error tests, but he got a primitive meat rack going. He laid the fur down on his back skin up, and the meat across it, so that the woman's coat wouldn't be ruined. He spent a few minutes cleaning the blood from the hide, and scraping it a little further...it would be a fine pelt with salt and a few days in the sunshine. At least the bitter cold ensured it wouldn't rot. He rolled it up and tied it with more strips of bark, laying it down by the woman's sword. "That she may have her companion with her to warm her in the cold." Ninus told Cricet when the rat sniffed at the pelt. The rat was beyond nibbling at it; she'd stuffed herself full of fat-rich brain and meat. She curled up in Ninus' canvas and slept by the fire, her stomach distended while her master cut down the carcass. Strips he laid on the impromptu meat rack, which leaned awkwardly and had to be propped up with a few stiff boughs. He cooked a leg for himself and sliced canvas to wrap the rest. He had two more limbs and both sets of ribs. Good. A few more days of heavy protein. He packed them in snow and canvas hurriedly sliced from his blanket and put them into Jack's packs. The horse sniffed at the blood on Ninus' hands but didn't move. He was comfortable by the fire. Ninus settled down with Cricet in his lap and held the leg over the fire. It cooked well, hot grease dripping down onto the coals and making them sizzle. He had a bit of a hard time making a suitable skewer for the limb, but he eventually settled down to watch it cook. When he pulled it from the fire he had to take a few moments to resist burying his head into the hot meat like Cricet had. He took a few deep breaths, and ate slowly. A few bites, slow bites. He had a few and washed his hands of blood with snow, planting his cooking stick into the ground to keep the cooked leg aloft and warm. Nothing of the dog was visible, save for the joint keeping warm above the flames and the roll of thick fur. He trudged down to meet her, squatting next to her as she sobbed. "Thy companion shalt keep me and mine safe for days from the black hand of death. For that I cannot repay thee, only thank thee." He told her quietly. "Thy companion will keep thee as warm in death as he did in life, nothing went to waste. The seat of the soul was buried with respect beneath stones in the wilderness, that his sightless eyes may watch generations past. Come, it is senseless to freeze thyself." he offered his hand to her. Even the few bites of meat was making his stomach awaken to hunger, but he didn't dare eat too quickly. Throwing it up would only waste a night's worth of food...he would have to eat slowly, over the course of several hours and only a few bites at a time. He didn't want Sigrun to sit in the snow for that long. He wondered how she'd react to the roll of fur, respectfully tied up in bark strips near her blade.

[Sigrun Dominic]

Ninus had been silent. The young man with dark circles in his eyes gave her no words when he had accepted Snowe, as if he had expected it somewhat. Did he? The young blonde bumped the back of her head against the soft bark, he was certainly desparate enough. Who knew what he would have done if she had taken offense and had said no.

He hasn't- they haven't eaten properly in quite a long time, she presumed, sniffling softly and embracing herself to fight the cold. In his desperation, he might have lost all civility and made for the kill, and might have even eaten her too.

Sigrun shook her head slightly and scoffed. He wouldn't, she thought, but who am I to say what kind of person he might be. On the other hand, who was she? What had she become that she had come to the woods in the height of fragility at the loss of her dearest friend, and yet in spite of her objective, she chose to put the fate of a stranger first before her own.

But what did I have to lose, anyway, she reasoned out, he was right, he was no longer Snowe. The husk of a canine she had held in her arms a few moments ago could never again be the companion that she had once held so dear, and there was no point in dwelling upon what was left of him.

She was then brought back to her first question of what had she become. But was putting others who were more in need first truly uncharacteristic of her?

Sigmund, of course. A soft smile played upon the young woman's lips. It had been so long that she'd forgotten how to care. Her habit of dwelling upon the past had been the reason she'd become so frigid and careless, in the first place. She took to making friends, to finding connections, to recovering herself, and to even allowing herself to look past her own notions of modesty and decency when it came to social endeavors, but none of her efforts ever lasted. Every attempt at growing was turned benign by her acts of rebellion against herself.

Sigmund had been her life. He was what tethered her to her family, the one with the same blonde hair and blue eyes that she had inherited from her mother. When Francis had gone, he was still there, and when Sigmund had passed, Snowe had stayed.

Sigrun realized just how much she had let Sigmund's death weigh upon her shoulders. She forced Snowe to be enough for her, and when she tried to branch out, she discovered that it wasn't. It was a fact, however, that she repeatedly denied to herself until today.

Tears began to fall for the third time. She had forgotten about kindness. She had forgotten how to care, how to maintain depth in the things that she would do, say, and think. She had forgotten the value of life. It took the death of the last one who mattered the most to her to prove it.

"I'm sorry," she exhaled her words sharply, her cheeks flushing as her crying intensified. The ones who needed to hear it from her the most were no longer around to hear her apology.

She spent a few more bells purging the weight in her chest through her tears. Curling up into a ball, she wept for all the things she had not said. It wasn't long before she finally felt empty.

There was a lightness in her chest. Her breathing had become labored. The young blonde wiped at the tear marks that trailed along her cheeks and sighed towards the sky. She could see her own breath in the form of pale smoke dissipate through the air. If she could not say her apology, she would instead fulfill the need of it through others who were alive to receive it.

Light footsteps were heard crunching against the few dried leaves that littered the area, kicking a few pebbles here and there. Sigrun turned just in time to see Ninus crouching beside her. The young woman sniffled.

"Thy companion shalt keep me and mine safe for days from the black hand of death. For that I cannot repay thee, only thank thee," he mumbled softly. Sigrun nodded and let out another sniffle.

"Thy companion will keep thee as warm in death as he did in life, nothing went to waste. The seat of the soul was buried with respect beneath stones in the wilderness, that his sightless eyes may watch generations past. Come, it is senseless to freeze thyself."

Sigrun smiled faintly. In spite of the circumstances, she found humor in the way she could not immediately understand the young man's words the moment that he would say them. Flowery was the term she would use to describe it, as well as endearing. She took the hand he'd offered her and allowed him to help her rise from the floor. Upon standing up she felt the breeze invade the back of her legs, causing her to shiver and clutch herself tightly. She followed behind Ninus as they returned to their little camp.

The first thing the young blonde noticed was the roll of gray fur tied up in bark strips, resting near her blade, which she had remembered putting down along with her rucksack and her coat.

"Is that...?" she trailed off, eyes wide and swollen from all the crying, "... for me?"

It felt strangely imposing for her to have suggested, but it was a statement filled with hope. She hadn't expected him to have been so thoughtful as to skin Snowe properly, as she was certain his hunger would have taken over somehow and may have led him to treat him a little less respectfully. The man clearly knew how to respect. There was no ice left to thaw out of the young blonde's heart, and so she simply smiled brightly, her eyes twinkling from the light of the bonfire as she glanced towards Ninus and then back at Snowe's fur.

[Ninus Aurellius]

The Prince of Rats Ninus looked up as he sat down by the fire again. "I promised thee thy companion would be with thee always. Now? He shall be." he said, pulling the canvas up around his shoulders and taking the leg joint in his hands. He ate sparingly again, his teeth nipping off meat neatly, then he propped the meat up again. Cricet didn't understand why her master wasn't stuffing his face, but she was beginning to...her stomach was rebelling powerfully against her. She groaned and crawled into his lap. "Thy ears were closed to me." Ninus said reproachfully to the rat, but petted her anyway. He understood why she'd consumed everything so quickly. The poisoner took a deep breath and waited for Sigrun to settle and dry her eyes. "I owe thee my story then?" he asked, looking at her. "I lived in Syliras; a man who harnessed the most common of plants to the most evil of ends. Husbands against wives, whores against clients, I was the equivocator of the common man against his enemy." He shifted the canvas up around his shoulders, now quite comfortable near the fire. The chill had gone from his bones, and with a stomach quickly becoming full he was content to settle and tell his tale. "But my enemy was insurmountable. He was a demon, flashing in the sun with steel plating and a blade in his hand. Quick to become judge, jury and witness all. He roamed the streets in packs of himself, a heartless, soulless being with justice on his lips and evil in his heart." He took a deep breath. "He would not let me live on the streets where I could cloak myself. No, he bade me live in Traveler's Row lest he slit my throat himself...penned like an animal I scraped out a living under his eyes for years. One day, men borne of the earth itself rose up and began destroying the denizens of the forest outside of the city. A great wolf named Ama requested aid, and promised great rewards...and I found myself seduced by the promise of a true home. A house, not a hovel they could break down and corner me." he shook his head and took a few more bites of his meal. What a fool he'd been to think he could have completed such a quest. "The soil-men beat myself and mine companions. Injured the wolf, and yet I knew of a place we could be safe. My family lived by the sword, deep in the woods they took from caravans to feed themselves and thus stayed out from under the thumbs of those who would oppress them. Kind creatures, my mother and father, yet with an exterior as rough as the land around them." Ninus smiled softly, remembering Freidys and Churchkey. "Mine mother was not pleased. He bade us destroy the wolf lest she call down the demons, and I was so sure her gratitude would extend that far....but a swift bandage and she fled to fetch them." Cricet nuzzled Ninus' thigh softly as he spoke. Even if she couldn't understand the words, she knew the story. Her side bore scars from it. "The soil-men rooted up the camp, and killed many men. My mother and father were grand fighters, a pair of wolves side by side lashing with both heads. My brother a giant, red haired and grand. The soil-men were defeated once the demon arrived, mounted on horses, snorting and pawing with laughter. They looked cruelly down on my exhausted family, whilst I with a broken wrist hanging on to an ancient horse was barely conscious. No thanks was there when the wolf slid between the demon, between the thighs of her lover, a sneer on her lips and hatred in her heart. She would not suffer criminals to live, none of them would. Justice for the ones who bandaged her, who slew her enemies for her." He spat into the fire angrily, and looked at Sigrun. "My wolves did not cry nor beg. They bid me goodbye, they gave me the steed I had performed my charge on...They gave me the camp. Books stolen from fat Zeltivan merchants that had been thumbed through over and over since I was but a babe. As I watched quarrels find breasts, throats and eyes I did not cry, but I made them a promise. I promised as I laid stones around their bodies, I promised as I brought my mother and father up onto the heath to watch the sun rise together." His voice was a bit shaky now, anger burning in his heart. "The all-knowing agents of justice, the armoured asses who stomp about the streets of Syliras with harsh voices and empty skulls...will never know peace. Food shall turn to ash in their mouths, the very well water shall be my lance. No game shall be found in the forest, but rotting and turning in the lakes and rivers. No soil shall be tilled, for it will be as fallow as the graves on the heath. I shall sow dragon's teeth into the very land, until it swallows up the whole of Syliras...starving, sick, poisoned. They shall fall without mercy, for none was given to my family." he growled as he repeated the prophecy. "I shall become the greatest poisoner of all, until the demon fears his own shadow, until he fears the plants on his windowsill, the food he eats, the wine he drinks. I shall stand over the corpse of their commander and carve my mother's name into his breast."

[Sigrun Dominic]

To the dark-haired man, he was speaking plainly. To Sigrun, he was speaking in sordid riddles, interwoven with a powerful emotion that she could not understand. She bit her lip and sat across from him by the bonfire, her hands wrapping themselves around Snowe's fur as she watched him speak.

Demon? She felt her stomach turn, partly because she knew that the meat he had been politely nibbling upon was Snowe, and partly due to her inability to understand what he was trying to say. With steel plating and a blade in his hand.

The Syliran Knights?

And Ninus, she deduced, was a herbalist? He had said that he harnessed the most common of plants, but for evil intentions?

How does one use plants for evil intentions? She thought. The information would not properly register. The only means that she could imagine was to feed someone a plant they were allergic to.

Or a poisonous plant, she raised her eyebrows at the realization. Sooner or later it was much easier to piece together his story.

"A great wolf named Ama requested aid, and promised great rewards... and I found myself seduced by the promise of a true home. A house, not a hovel they could break down and corner me."

The young blonde's jaw slackened. I take it back, she thought, I have no idea what to make of this.

A great wolf, named Ama? she refused to interrupt him, and instead did a lot of ruminating over his words. She couldn't decide between the possibility of him referring to an actual wolf, or taking to another metaphor, as did he when he spoke of the knights.

The knights, she thought back, briefly. She had never before found herself under the scrutinizing gaze of the metal-clad men that surrounded the citadel. There were times when she had interacted with squires, but nothing
of consequence had ever happened. Nonetheless, it was only the comments made in hushed tones that said unkind things about the knights, and even then, it was more than likely for one to assume they had misheard it. It was much safer that way.

"The soil-men beat myself and mine companions. Injured the wolf, and yet I knew of a place we could be safe."

Soil-men? Sigrun looked defeated. What on earth?

"My family lived by the sword, deep in the woods they took from caravans to feed themselves and thus stayed out from under the thumbs of those who would oppress them."

She watched his face change fluidly, from a pained expression of aching distaste to a distant, sweet fondness that was clearly not rooted to the point of his story. The young blonde leaned forward eagerly, feeling the heat of the bonfire flick at her flushed cheeks. She wanted to understand his words without having to ask for extensive explanations. It was like listening to a story being told in two languages.

Ninus' next words, however, had caused Sigrun's features to darken. The information had thankfully become clearer again. His family had perished in the hands of... Who? It pained her to hear about his losses, but she maintained an air of confusion as to who exactly had done what. Was it the soil-men, or the demons? She knew what it was like to lose her family, but never in the way that he did. They were killed, in front of him, as far as she could gather. Her stomach turned and her heart ached for him.

In the end he began to sound more angry and less sad. Sigrun leaned backwards this time, jerking slightly at he spat angrily at the base of the fire, afraid of what he may do out of impulse due to the rage that was clearly building up inside of him. Her churning stomach had now begun to twist out of concern for his next actions, rather than sympathy for his past experiences.

"I shall become the greatest poisoner of all, until the demon fears his own shadow, until he fears the plants on his windowsill, the food he eats, the wine he drinks. I shall stand over the corpse of their commander and carve my mother's name into his breast," Sigrun could feel his determination ringing through her ears as he spoke vehemently of the Syliran Knights. His ability to feel things so intensely may just be the reason for the effectiveness of his poisons.

A poisoner, she gazed at him quietly, awaiting the completion of his tale before she would utter a word of response. Interesting.

She hummed softly, unable to find the words to react to his lengthy story. She had been silent the entire time, allowing her facial expressions to do the talking.

"That's... quite a tale," she said, wide-eyed and astonished, "I'm not sure what to say, except perhaps, that I'm sorry." She sighed heavily. "For everything that's happened to you."

The last thing on her mind was the sheer amount of apologies that she had allowed herself to express so far within the day.

[Ninus Aurellius]

The Prince of Rats Ninus shook his head, the rage dying off. It was improper to spout it off to just...anyone. She had saved his life, and she didn't seem like someone who would run to Syliras. "Thou art an artist at apologizing." he said, chuckling dryly. "Thy sensitive ears must forgive my outburst, I meant no ill effect. My family lies still and dead, and my heart burns with vengeance, but it is for a time when I do not feel my spine quite so close to my ribs." He ate, finishing the leg joint now that he felt his stomach recoiling less and less with reach round of flesh. Cricet groaned and nuzzled him, but he couldn't do much for her agony. He merely stroked her head and told her, yet again, that she should have listened to him and not bolted down such fat-rich food. He took the leg bones and cleaned them off with snow; they would make at least another good meal if they were cracked open and the nutrient-rich marrow was eaten. Now that it was cooked, he could even eat it on the run. The poisoner fetched more wood for the fire and patted Jack's neck, letting the horse nose him gently. "My poor old man was once a demon's mount." Ninus nodded to Jack. "Age may have slowed his hooves, but he still knows some of their tricks. My lady if thy heart wishes to entertain an old poisoner, we shall sleep and recount our tracks when light breaks."

[Sigrun Dominic]

"Thou art an artist at apologizing," Ninus said with a slight chuckle. Sigrun's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She'd hoped not to sound insincere.

"Thy sensitive ears must forgive my outburst, I meant no ill effect. My family lies still and dead, and my heart burns with vengeance, but it is for a time when I do not feel my spine quite so close to my ribs."

The young blonde shook her head. "It's fine," she responded softly, "I can understand."

She remembered a time when she had felt such an intense, despicable hatred for her father. He had left them at a time when they needed him the most; their mother had passed, and Sigmund was becoming more and more sickly. She had to shoulder all the responsibility while he distanced himself from them, until he'd eventually left them behind. Eventually, Sigrun not only learned to hate him, but also the rest of the world, for continuing on its turn about its axis while she toiled and worked.

But Ninus' anger and hatred was different. It was transcendental, it was beyond the fire of contempt that was in Sigrun's heart when she was younger, a flame that had now become a faintly flickering pile of ash. His predicament made her feel small.

She looked away as he finished his meal. Her stomach had stopped turning, but now she had become wrought with nostalgia. Suddenly, and after so many seasons, she missed her family.

She turned when she heard him stand up and collect more wood from the nearby trees. He petted the dark horse on the head. The stocky old steed nudged him softly with its nose.

"My poor old man was once a demon's mount." Ninus was referring to the horse. Sigrun's lips twitched. Old man, demon's mount? It took a while for her to reconsider that thought that he was referring to his father, and to an actual demon. The horse was once a mount of a knight, she decided.

"Age may have slowed his hooves, but he still knows some of their tricks. My lady if thy heart wishes to entertain an old poisoner, we shall sleep and recount our tracks when light breaks."

"Oh," she looked around her, only realizing then that the sun was close to setting. So much time had passed since she'd awoken to find Snowe nearly gone. It seemed dangerous to leave now and head back to the castle, as the darkness would certainly catch up to her midway.

She watched Ninus intently, and the crackling fire they had made. He was decent company, and it would be nice not to sleep alone for once.

"Alright, good idea," she said, unraveling the fur and wrapping it around her. If she arranged herself in a fetal position, it would be just enough to cover her.