Eva finally decides to join us in the story. How nice of her.

Chapter 4: The Rybex

"Forgive me if I sound blunt, but I still don't understand. Why have you come out all this way, Eva?"

A reptilian lady sat wrapped up in towels in the armchair nearby, drinking hot tea with an obvious desire to consume it all in one gulp and warm herself as quickly as possible, if it had been a thing ladies did. What the blankets didn't cover of a dainty blue lace dress looked threadbare in places, and the pink bows on the skirt and puffed sleeves appeared to be of a material trying very hard to mimic silk, curious details to be found on the clothing of one of higher breeding. Of course, no one but Razoff would notice such things, and right now, this initial appraisal of her dress was forgotten once his eyes rested on a delicate face and skin of a most flawless complexion. As much as she loved his spots, he loved her lack of them.

He hadn't set eyes upon her in many decades, but hardly had she changed in all that time. She was as lovely as ever, but now with the kind of beauty only maturity could bring. It had been easy to lock away the letters she sent and ignore them when he had forgotten the pretty face of the one who had written them, but now that she sat before him, it was hard to believe he had been capable of neglecting such a lovely creature so.

"Razoff," she said in a voice that could put bells and songbirds both to shame, "we haven't seen each other in so very long. Why should you even have to ask?"

He smiled, and her solemn expression was given up in favor of one more like his, and he chuckled. "Of course, my dear, but it's also that very reason that your presence here is such a surprise. I would have thought you had forgotten me in all that time." Razoff settled further into his seat, his elbows resting on the armrests as he took a sip from his own teacup.

Her grin widened, pushing dimples into her cheeks. "I sent you letters. It would be hard to do such a thing if I had forgotten about you."

"Nevertheless."

They grew silent, and she began to tap one trimmed nail against her cup, and her eyes flicked to her lap when she had fallen under his gaze for too long. When it seemed no more would be said if no intervention was taken, the hunter spoke again.

"You chose a rather unpleasant time for a trek through the bog, my dear. It rains much more than it has any right to all year long, but it's this month that is worse by far. There are piranhas in those waters, you know. I do hope you watched your step."

Her lips curved into a smile yet again, though her eyes remained averted. "Oh, I was careful. I—" Her gaze rose to his once again. "It's such a…a dreadful place you live in, though. How do you stand it? Being cold and wet and miserable—"

"I have little choice. It's what us Shoedsackovski's do. I half-wonder if that might be one of the reasons people think my family mad."

A cloud darkened her face, and she grew stiff in her seat. "Oh, Razoff, about…about your family…" Eva said, her smile reversed, before she took up speaking to her lap, "I don't know if anyone's told you, but—"

"I know, Eva. I received a letter some years back from my old nursemaid, Magda."

Her slender neck remained arched, nevertheless, and her gaze steadfast on her feet, exposed with her muddy boots removed and left behind in the foyer, and her lips moved as if she continued a silent conversation even his sharp ears couldn't catch.

"They're gone, Razoff," she said at last, "Dead. My…the…the villagers…they all revolted…and killed them…and-and burned down your parents' mansion. They didn't even spare hardy any of the servants. I…" Her eyes rose to rest on his, settling in a place they needed to be, even if it took effort to keep them there. "I'm sorry, Razoff."

He remained still, considering her with a half-lidded gaze. "Why should you be sorry, my dear, for an atrocity others committed?" He paused, his gaze sharpening for the smallest perceptible second. "They're a simple-minded, uncivilized rabble, those common folk. Aren't they, Eva?"

She stared at him, lips parted, then, she nodded her head. "Y-yes. Yes, they are."

Razoff shook his head. "It's all in the past now, though, my dear, and it still hardly feels like it really happened with my old home so far away."

"Yes, but…I know you weren't terribly close to them, but I would still think—"

He raised a hand to silence her. "Eva, my dear, let's not talk about this right now. Surely you don't want to start our first visit in so many years on a topic so morbid, do you? How has your family been? Is Martin happy with Lizah?"

She blinked at him. "Wh-who?"

The hunter arched his eyebrows at her. "Your brother, my dear. You wrote to me some years back that he was engaged to a girl of a lower social standing than him, did you not? You see, I do read your letters. Is he happy with her, or did they not go through with it?"

Her head shook from side to side, but in answer or in a lack of comprehension, few could be certain. "No, he was never…oh, yes, yes, he did get married. Ah, and they are quite happy. I…I think it's nice…that they love each other so, even when they don't come from the same background." Her eyes flicked between him and her cup before settling on him again. "Wouldn't you agree, Razoff?"

He grinned, closing his eyes as he drank from his teacup, and she leaned forward, watching him with an interest quite peculiar for so ordinary a thing. He returned the cup to its saucer, managing to do so with absolute silence, and let out an exhalation of breath. "I suppose there's something to be said about following one's heart," he said and nothing more, and when she saw she wouldn't get anything else from him, at least, not by staring, she forced herself back in her seat, though she remained straight-backed.

"And your parents. How are they?"

"Fine. They're just fine."

"And most important of all," Razoff turned his head, considering her with a sidelong gaze and eyebrows again raised, "how have you been faring all these years? Keeping busy, I hope?"

This time, she did not return the grin offered to her. "Yes, I've been…keeping busy. And you? I suppose you've been spending your time hunting, then?"

"Well…" This time, it was his turn to put serious consideration into a response of his own. "Yes, I have been hunting. That's what I do. I can't fulfill my family's tradition otherwise. But, that's not the only way in which I've been occupying my time."

"What else have you been doing?"

He thought about this. "Playing the harpsichord."

Her eyes brightened. "Really? You must play something for me."

"Perhaps another time." He was a bit rusty. The harpsichord, on the other hand, if he was in the mood for rhyming, was terribly dusty. Though, if his servants had been behaving themselves, it wouldn't have gotten in such a state. On the other hand, it was likely for the best that they were no longer about for her to see them. For whatever inane reason, it seemed frowned upon to use those flies and other such creatures to do one's bidding, even when employing those of a greater intelligence for the same work appeared to be much more accepted.

Her grin weakened when he truly didn't appear to have any intention of serenading her any time soon, and she continued, "Razoff, I…I really am glad I was able to find you. I needed very badly to see you again. It's…it's hard to explain why; I…I just missed you, and…"

Razoff set his cup and saucer on the table nearby and leaned in closer to her. "You don't need to explain. It's nice to have another living soul in this empty place. I wasn't expecting visitors, but I'm sure I can find a room for you. You are spending the night, aren't you?"

"Spending the night? Oh, yes, I'd love to, but…yes, I'd very much like that. Thank you."

Her eyes followed him as he stood, and he extended an arm. "Come with me. It's late, and I'm sure you're tired."

She stood, one hand still clutching the blankets to her as she raised her free arm, and he linked his arm with hers and began to lead her off in the direction of the guest room, the one he recalled to be in the most acceptable condition, at least. She spoke no more during their walk, and he supposed he could show her around in the morning, when the rooms would be better lit, and she would surely be more awake. He watched her close, however, as he bid her goodnight, for there was something amiss in her eyes, but try as he may, not even he, with decades to hone his hunter's senses, senses that normally kept nothing secret from him, could surmise exactly what secret she was hiding.

It was the contemplation of this very secret that denied sleep to the hunter, and he tossed and turned all night until a very early hour of the morning when, unable to continue the charade of rest any longer, he got up and went to his office, still dressed in a long, red silk nightshirt.

The hunter brought along with himself a key that went to no door, but to a particular drawer of his desk, and he knelt before it, rolling the key this way and that between his fingertips before at last using it for what it was meant for. It took a fair bit of wiggling to get the old lock to turn, but he managed it, and he set the key upon his desk before sliding the drawer open to reveal all the letters Eva had ever sent him, enough that they threatened to spill out if he didn't exercise care.

She had been so diligent in her correspondence with him, while he…well, suffice it to say, other things had intervened, and perhaps he had waited longer to respond than he ought to have. He still read every letter she sent his way, but they had spent so much time apart, and after so long without any form of interaction, with him solely to blame when he had neglected to hold up his end of the promise, he had quite a lot of reacquainting to do.

Razoff began to remove the letters, one by one, studying the contents of each in turn as he tried to remember exactly who the woman that had shown up on his doorstep last night really was, and he found himself going back in time as he delved ever deeper into his secret drawer. The woman she had become he had only known by the words she had written, while the girl he had met those many years ago was just a distant shadow of happy times he recalled happening to someone else.

Razoff certainly couldn't say how many hours he sat there on the floor of his office. He wasn't even aware it was hours aside from the fact that he had grown rather sore since this recollecting of his had first began, and he looked up when he heard a voice calling his name. He began to shove the letters back into their old storage place, not entirely sure why he was bothering to do so, and when her words began to grow distant, he peered over the top of his desk at the doorway he had left much too open, when he was wearing such immodest attire.

"Eva, I'm in here, but please don't come any closer! I'm not as dressed as I would like to be!"

Laughter like chimes met his ears. "I'm sorry, I didn't know! But, you do realize that sounds a bit worse than I think you intended!"

He did realize that. Just as it was not lost on him that it was far too early in their reunion for him to have ever made such a confession. The fact that they had become engaged, even if it was so very long ago, only served to make it that much worse.

Once fully dressed, but still with the temptation to hide out in his room until she had forgotten the whole matter, if she ever would, he got to showing her about as much of his mansion as he could, and it was fortunate he had so many ways of reaching the same places, as it made it much easier to avoid his more heavily-used trophy rooms and his vast collection of firearms of all sizes. His careful maneuvering, however, was not enough to prevent her from questioning it, and it proved to be for naught when he was forces to divulge to her the contents of these rooms when she pointed out, smiling or not, that she would only assume something even worse than the reality if he refused to tell her.

His tour ended a good deal earlier than lunchtime, and he couldn't show her around outside with the morning drizzle, leaving them with little more to occupy their time than breakfast, something his stomach didn't feel much up to at the moment, or, as always, talking, though the majority of the topics he could come up with had already been covered last night or involved a pastime he knew she disapproved of.

They settled with breakfast, a task Eva insisted she take on and which she was far better at than a noble had any right being. They had tea and biscuits and fried cuckoo eggs, all of which were prepared with such expert skill, as simple as they were, that he hadn't any trouble regaining his appetite and gobbling them down, as he hadn't been eating terribly well as of late, come to think of it, while she settled with the tiny bites and sips characteristic of ladies.

"Razoff." Eva was the first to break the silence that had settled upon them since their attention had turned to food, and he looked up from the biscuit he had been in the middle of adorning with plum jam to catch a playful sort of grin upon her lovely features.

His eyebrows rose when she failed to continue. "Yes, my dear?"

"I couldn't help but notice…" She hid her smile behind one hand.

"Yes, yes, what is it you've noticed?"

"Well, it's just that…" She lowered her hand, allowing it to join the other in folding into segments a red, cloth napkin, and though it seemed she had managed to compose herself, the upturned corners of her lips remained. "You certainly seem to have a…a rather…expansive collection of statues and portraits…."

"Yes…" He didn't much like where this was going.

"And I just couldn't help but notice…"

"Yes, I'm well aware of the fact that you've noticed something. Now what is it?"

She looked up from the napkin she had since reduced to an eighth of its previous size. "They're all of you. At least," she giggled, "most of them are." She propped her cheek up on one fist. "Mind telling me why?"

By now, she was putting no effort at all in hiding her amusement, and he set the biscuit down as he wiped jam from his knife with a napkin.

"Well, Eva, my sweet, there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for that."

She nodded. "I'm sure there must be."

"I have all those statues and paintings because, well, how should I put this?" He leaned back in his seat, a hand to his chin in deep consideration, and she leaned in over her plate, putting the rather large bow at her neckline in very real danger of landing in egg yolk.

"Yes…?"

"You see…"

"Mm-hmm…"

"It's all because…"

"Uh-huh…"

"I'm a handsome devil."

He thought she was going to fall out of her chair with the sheer intensity of her laughter, and it took a good amount of willpower not to join her, though he couldn't prevent a few chuckles here and there that weren't halted even by a hand pressed to his mouth, as he watched Eva writhe about in her mirth before it all ended with a few unceremonious snorts. With that, she went still and cleared her throat, and he grinned at her.

"My dear," he began, "I'm glad my little attempt at humor amused you. As for a more serious answer to your question…I suppose it all boils down to the fact that our kind sometimes has a bit too much money at our disposal, wouldn't you say? I do hope, though," he lifted his biscuit from his plate and took a bite from it, "that you're not implying you have a problem with how I decorate my home? You don't, do you?"

She shook her head. "No. No problem at all." She crossed her arms. "My…my home has plenty of statues of me, as well. Wonderful statues. Statues of me posing and dancing and…even statues of me in my nightgown."

"Don't you dare bring that up again."

"I already have."

Razoff shook his head with a widening grin and a sly wink. "Eva, I never, in all my life, thought of you as the immodest type." With that, he ate the rest of his biscuit, but when his attention returned to his companion, her eyes were downcast, her grin, however, remaining, though it appeared to only still be present due to forgetfulness. "Eva…"

"Razoff," at last, the smile fell, "when will you ever be coming back?"

"Eva, I've already told you—"

"I-I've waited so long, and…it's one thing that you no longer respond to my letters…really, I'm not cross with you or anything, but I still want to know when…if you're ever coming back."

She attempted to peer into his eyes, but his gaze only sharpened, a wall no one could penetrate, just as he had yet to see through the veil her own eyes possessed.

Why had she come here?

"My dear, I always planned on coming back. I may live out here in this dismal, old bog, but my home, our home, is in the swamp where we met. I have long yearned to return there one day, and I will, once I've fulfilled my purpose here."

She lunged towards him, stopped only by the table between them. "But-but Razoff—"

He stood, and she drew back. "Eva, come with me. I want to show you something."

She was strangely hesitant, but with a little coaxing, he led her down many winding hallways and up many old staircases, creaking with age accelerated by damp, until at last they reached the attic, where the heavy rainfall the early drizzle had become was loudest of all, pattering on roof and eves and windowpanes. He had to resist sneezing in the dust they had stirred up, and she walked with him past many decades of accumulated things he had stored away up here, to become neglected and forgotten (including even more portraits he couldn't find room for downstairs), to one of the windows, where gave the greatest view of what lay beyond.

"Do you see it, Eva?" he said, and she gazed out at the barren and inhospitable bog far below and all about them and at the grey, sullen clouds that hung, full and heavy, above.

"Yes. Yes, I see it," Eva said with a soft voice nearly stifled by the rainfall and the rumbling of thunder outside. "But, it still doesn't answer my question. In fact," she looked up at him, "it only proves—"

"Hush, my dear," the hunter said, placing a finger to her lips. "I know far better than you what a miserable place this is, but I cannot leave until I've captured prey to match that of my ancestors. I may not have had the best relationship with my father, but if just one thing proves me as his son, whether I liked it or not, it was our family's desire to prove we were the greatest of predators. That is why I'm out here, to do that very thing. It isn't meant to be fun. It is my duty, to prove that our family is still on top, even when I'm the last one that remains. My father conquered the dastardly Space Mama, and so shall I conquer this Polokus-forsaken bog. I am the last great hunter, and I can't give up before I've proven that."

Razoff withdrew his hand, and he leant in closer to the window, until he could feel the chill seeping through the glass, and he looked upon the decayed landscape below, a view distorted by the orbs of rain clinging to the windowpane.

"But, perhaps it would be better explained if I told you a story."

"My father had many enemies, but there are no animosities more brutal than that of father and son. I spent a good deal of my young years with him, and that was likely the cause of the majority of my feelings for him. Since the day I could walk, it seemed, we went on hunting trips together, and while it was clear he wished to pass on his knowledge to me, he also expended much of his efforts in proving to me that he would always be far better at using this knowledge.

"You likely don't know, because I never told you, but there were days I wondered if I was the prey during some of these expeditions. I can't recall the number of times I walked into traps laid out for me rather than the beasts we sought, and while he may have been correct in his claims that this was the best way to teach me to more carefully study my surroundings, it still does some damage to a young boy's psyche to receive so cold a remark when one is crying from a broken ankle after having stepped into a vicious trap.

"And yet, no matter how diligently I tried to follow his example and learn what made him so great a hunter, I always fell woefully short. I suppose it shouldn't have come as a surprise; he had been in the business for decades longer than me, but I could never get used to the amusement he got at my own expense or, worse yet, the laughter he would bring to others when he told them of my shortcomings.

"After failing to live up to his absurd standards for years, a day came, when I was fourteen years of age, that I felt confident in my skills as a hunter and believed that, for the first time in my life, I had what it took to compete with him. In answer to my boasting, he challenged me to a contest. There was a rare beast, the fierce, yet beautiful rybex, one of which we knew to live in a cave in one of the more treacherous peaks of the Iron Mountains. The climb alone was dangerous enough, and that was not to make mention of the creature itself.

"We travelled together most of the way there, and it was at the base of this peak that we split ways. He told me that if I managed to subdue the ryebx first, he would accept me as an equal hunter, or at least, almost his equal, but if he was to capture it first, that was proof enough his ability was vastly superior to mine, for if I was ever to exceed him, I should already have the skills needed to do it. (He was that good of a teacher, you see. At least, as far as he believed.)

"I began at once to make my way up the slope, an even more difficult task with the current downpour. It took me a good many hours to reach a relatively level place to take a look around. There was, thus far, no sign of my father, but, with careful searching, I did manage to find a sign of the creature I sought, fresh footprints in the mud and twigs broken in places too high to be anything else. Now all that was left was to track it down, and so I got to following the evidence laid out before me until I heard rumbling up ahead. I crept towards the noise, and when I peered over the side of a steep embankment, there it was, asleep in the cave below. I had a clear shot of it—

"—don't you worry, my dear, I'll leave out the more objectionable bits—

"—and I was just ready to, well, you know, when…I was pushed. I didn't even hear him coming, which was one of the first things a hunter must learn to avoid, and I slid down, creating a fine racket and effectively awakening the beast. I was quite certain I had bruised a rib, or broken it, even, but I tried to ready myself, nonetheless, when the beast, in its outrage and surprise, charged at me. I tried to move out of the way, but the pain in my chest made it difficult to do so, and it lifted me up with its ferocious horns and tossed me aside.

"And yet, despite my pain and the beast's erratic movements and the dust it stirred up, I still attempted to steady my rifle yet again. But, I was too late. Before I could get the finishing shot off, my father had already done it himself with his bow, and he came sliding down into the cave with the most aggravating smirk I have ever and will ever see.

"He told me he had won, that he was still the better hunter, and as much as I protested that his actions were unfair, he only gave me another one of his self-made proverbs. 'How can hunting ever be fair?' he said. 'There are no rules but to survive and not let anyone get to your prey before you can.' And perhaps that's true, but due to his willingness to put his only son in harm's way for his own gain, I was denied the opportunity to be the first in our family to ever capture the elusive and revered rybex. And not only that, but I was denied the chance to become the legend my father was.

"He humiliated me. People continued to laugh, and we continued our little hunting trips he claimed were to mentor me when they were really just to boast. If I had caught the rybex, my dear Eva, if he hadn't been more than willing to stoop so low, I would have never been forced to come to this awful place to begin with."

I enjoyed writing about Zaroff more in this chapter. His personality, as you'd expect, is based off of the Zaroff from the book, even more so than Razoff is. Please review, my dearies, and tell me what you think.