Hullo again, dear readers! Once again, thank you so much for your patience and your kind words and support for this story!

Once more, I will repeat what I said earlier-I'm so sorry it's taking me this long between the updates. I have now quit my old job, but now I'm naturally set on finding a new one, which has to be my top priority, of course! Anyways, I'm *not* quitting this story, and it will be updated on a perhaps slow, but regular basis.

I'm so very grateful for your continuos support!

Love, always, BoMD

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Slowly, using mostly fractioned sentences and words, Howl began trying to fill in the gaps of the hours he'd been missing. Sophie had to use her own imagination to complete his story, but eventually, the picture cleared.

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Flying on a hot wave of rage, the landscape was rushing by under the half man, half raven creature. Fierce hatred was burning in his veins, only directed toward himself and his own actions. How could he? He had given her one simple promise before she left. Only. One. Simple. Promise. Something so simple that even Markl would have remembered, had he not distracted him. And yet, he had let her down. Again. Such a simple thing! Her words hurt like poisoned arrows in his heart. "How are we ever supposed to have children on our own if I can't trust you?"

Can't trust you… can't trust you… the words were echoing in his head. Trust. The most important thing in a relationship, and he had failed her. As beautiful and amazing as she was, and especially the new, confident Sophie that she had become, it would only be a matter of time until she'd realize what a useless man he was, still hiding behind his fancy magic and yet unable to keep a single promise. Soon, she was going to meet someone else, maybe even Prince Justin if he was still available (which he would be for sure), willing to offer her a joyful, carefree life and many beautiful children.

And so what, he totally deserved it. What difference had it made to have his heart back, when he was still unable to put it to its right use?

There was a raging, throbbing pain in his ears. Normally, he'd always compensate for the changes in pressure when flying, just by a simple flicking of his fingers before taking off, but now, he didn't care. The tears were leaving burning trails on his cheeks. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. In fact, he should–

But all of a sudden, his thoughts were interrupted by a bone piercing scream. Despite the pain, his senses were improved whenever he was changing into his birdlike form, and this particular sound would always fill him with a sickening fear. It sounded like a woman, screaming in panic, on the top of her lungs.

Pain and self pity forgotten, he immediately corrected his ear pressure, coming to a dead stop in mid air, listening tentatively, trying to make out the direction of the sound. And yes, there it was again. A wave of his arm, and he was taking off anew, at top speed, in what he hoped to be the right direction. Clenching his teeth, desperately wishing that things wouldn't be as serious as they appeared to be, he prayed he wouldn't be too late. His mind went back to the last time he'd heard a similar scream, and though he was trying to suppress the memories, the images came flooding back at full force…

He had been offering his help with the removing of the debris from a couple houses close to the west outskirts of Market Chipping. Some of their owners had survived the war and were returning to rebuild their homes. However, there had been some heavy bombings, and everything that remained were large piles of rubble that had to be removed before the reconstructions could start. He'd been working trying to lift a deformed steel frame in its entirety from one of the buildings, using magic to improve his strength, when he suddenly heard one of the men from the group deconstructing the building next to his, shouting something that sounded like "GRENADE!" on the top of his lungs.

The next few moments had been passing in slow motion as there was a huge bang, throwing him off his feet, followed by a rush of great heat. He had been caught completely off guard, with no time to cast a protection spell. Coming to his senses again, he'd found himself covered with dust, debris, and what he initially thought to be his own blood… but soon, he realized it was mostly human tissue from the workers nearby, who had been totally unaware that an undetonated grenade had been waiting for them inside the half crumpled building. Now, all that remained of the reconstruction site was a totally pulverized, fiercely burning pile of debris.

There had been a few moments of silence, but soon, one of the worker's wives, watching the scenario from the other side of the street, came running toward the fire, her heart piercing screams echoing through the ruins. Instinctively, he'd caught her, holding her tightly, and hardly aware of his actions, he'd picked her up, and started running down the street. He'd left her with a neighbor family, who had obviously heard the explosion but were out of sight of the house. "Take care of her" he'd heard himself saying, before turning into a bird again, shooting up through the air, setting off on a wobbly flight.

Once airborne, he'd suddenly felt faint and totally spent. Barely making it to a small cliff nearby, he was turning human again almost before hitting the ground. On his knees and hands, he'd only managed to crawl the few steps to the edge before he was violently sick, too shocked to even try and quell it, and for once, he managed to get his anxiety somewhat under control once he was done. However, it had taken him several hours to recover the strength to make it back home, and Sophie had sensed that there was something wrong. Naturally, he just couldn't tell her. But sometimes, most often as he was just about to fall asleep, the memories were returning, and the only thing that helped a little was when she was holding him until he fell asleep. And every time he needed it, she would always be there for him, never asking too many questions.

Right now, however, he momentarily had to push all other thoughts away, as he was approaching his new target. This time, he found himself along the east outskirts of Market Chipping, and as he flew in closer, he immediately saw what was wrong. Apparently, another of the families returning home had found a huge, undetonated warhead in the middle of their potato field. Obviously in a great rush to remove it, so they could once more make use of the land, they had been set on working far into the night, with the aid from some gas lights rigged on a number of poles. The man and some of his adolescent sons had been trying to pull the heavy piece onto a horse carriage, attaching a chain and a winch to the front part of the bomb, and using sturdy pieces of crossed wood poles to gradually lift the rear. Unfortunately, two of the poles had snapped, causing the rear to drop, and in its fall, it had pinned the man to the ground.

Fortunately, it had missed his leg with less than an inch, but the leg of his trousers and the edge of his boot were so severely stuck they weren't even possible to be cut loose. Furthermore, the entire warhead was now threatening to slide down, as the sons could no longer use the winch to pull it onto the carriage. And if it did, not only would it crush the man, but there was also the immediate risk of detonation.

The woman was now hysterically yelling for help. Focusing on his target, Howl made a dive for it, riding on a wave of increasing rage. He realized that he was about to face yet another consequence of the lingering perils of a useless war. Wrapping his arms around the body of the warhead, he used his magical strength to pull it up and secure it on the carriage.

For a moment, the screams turned into silence, and nothing could be heard but everyone's heavy breathing. Then, cheering ensued, and as the man got onto his feet again, a bit shaken, but unharmed, they all approached the wizard to embrace him, the woman sobbing heavily into his feathers, before turning back, clinging to her husband.

"How could we ever thank you enough? And how could you possibly know we were in need of help?" the woman repeated over and over again.

Howl tried to assure her that it was all right, and that it had not been much of an effort from his side, but he was surprised to find that he suddenly felt rather weak, despite the fact that he wouldn't have considered his act as such a great effort. But something stirred in his mind, and a vision of his beloved wife came to him, as he could almost hear her, asking him when he'd last had something to eat. And though the thought of food felt less appealing at the moment, he realized that this would probably be the matter. However, as he was about to excuse himself, a strange spell of dizziness overwhelmed him, and he had to put an arm out to support himself against the wall of their house.

"Are you all right?" the woman had asked in alarm. "I know your wife's waiting, but I can see you're tired… why don't you join us for a late dinner before you leave? In fact, I was just about to cook some turnip and potato soup for my boys… and don't worry, there's plenty, and it's the least we can do for you…"

Too tired to argue, Howl complied, and initially, it felt wonderful with the warm soup filling up his stomach. Only now, he realized how cold he actually felt. But strangely enough, the dizziness and the light headed feeling was increasing, and after a while, he found it harder and harder to swallow, as if he was almost on the verge of nausea. Forcing down the last few spoonfuls, he excused himself, assuring the family he had to head back home, but promising to return to visit them as soon as he possibly could.

In the protection of the darkness, he tried to turn himself back into his birdlike form again, only to find that he didn't have the strength needed at all, nor was he able to levitate from the ground, even as a human. In fact, as he started walking along the streets in the presumed direction of home, his limbs felt as they were made of lead, and he found it difficult to move at all. Now, he was beginning to feel downright feverish, and soon, he was shivering despite the warm summer night. And all of a sudden, a sharp, stabbing sensation shot through the left side of his ribs, making him stop abruptly and gasp for breath.

What on Earth was happening to him? Had he so severely overtaxed himself? His heart was racing as he suddenly remembered all the strange diseases that were going around. Was he getting ill? Suddenly, his legs were weakening, and he felt unable to take another step. He stopped, leaning against the partly crumbled wall of the nearest house. Overcome by a wave of what was now pure nausea, he had to take a few deep breaths to quell it.

No, he wouldn't make it home like this. He had to stay and rest for a while, maybe try sleeping a little… He examined the house on the other side of the street, its façade quite distinguishable in the light of the moon. It appeared empty, and only two of the rooms on the ground floor had been damaged. Crawling in through a broken window, he moved to a room on the back. There was no furniture left, and the floor was covered with a thick layer of dust… but it would at least provide some shelter. He was so tired… Curling up into a sitting position, he leaned his back against the wall, and immediately fell asleep.

He was awoken by a sharp sensation of pain. In fact, his left side was throbbing violently, and now he was certain he had a temperature too. He wasn't quite sure for how long he had been sleeping, but the bleak light of an early dawn was greeting him from the gap where there once had been a window, overlooking a backyard overgrown with nettles. Suddenly, he felt a fierce onset of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. Sophie…. she must be worried sick about him now…

As he rose, he was overcome with such a severe wave of dizziness and nausea that he had to hobble to the window, almost ready to lose control of his rebelling stomach, but realizing that he'd probably wouldn't even have the strength to move, after being sick in this state. With a great effort, he managed to stifle it. He should probably try to hold it in for as long as he could, and make an attempt at an invisible spell instead, so rumors wouldn't say he was drunk should he encounter someone along the way…

Eventually, he had to change the invisible spell for the distraction spell, where people usually got an urge to look the other way as they saw him. He didn't have the strength to try something else. He slowly started to make his way home. On a regular basis, he had to support himself against the walls, trying not to vomit or pass out from the pain. As he finally approached the masked castle door, only one thought kept him on his feet–knowing that he soon would be with Sophie again, and even though he definitely didn't deserve it, she would take care of him anyway, as the wonderful, loving and understanding wife she was…

To be continued...