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Chapter XII: Little Red Riding Hood

Time stood frozen.

Atem was still talking, his cheeks deepening in colour the more he went on – but Yuugi couldn't hear him anymore. The boy's ears were ringing, being hit by a piercing ache each time an echo rolled off the clock tower: there was nothing but a reverberating, abysmal chime after another travelling across him, sinking deep, until the sound seemed to be embedded into his very being.

The booming grew louder and louder by every strike of the clock. Yuugi felt them pound his ribs, making them creak; making it feel like his bones would soon collapse over his heart and lungs, forcing them into one big bloody clump. Something was constricting him, squeezing – cutting off his air –

"I will return in a few days, at twelve o'clock sharp – at midnight."

Yuugi panicked. He felt full-blown hysteria hit, paralyzing him; he couldn't move.

Like a prey caught in between the jaws of a wolf, he was immobilized by utter fear that was somehow primal in its nature. He could feel the phantom fangs' weight resting against his leg, not yet digging into the flesh or even breaking the skin, but the pressure was still there, unchanging: a warning.

He could do nothing but stand there, waiting.

"Yuugi…? Are you alright?"

Then the blow came – sudden, but mercifully quick as well – like someone had buried their hands into his hair and tugged (hard enough to tear some strands straight off the scalp.) He felt tears sting his closed eyes (was he crying?) but he gritted his teeth to bear it.

Jounouchi had been right: teleportation runes didn't provide a very comfortable way of travel – least of all when forcefully executed by someone else a fair distance away.

The ground disappeared from beneath Yuugi's feet with a roar.

"YUUGI!"

He heard someone yell his name. It took him a split second to realize that it must have been Atem (Atem – he had been with Atem, in the garden, they had been in the garden – and they had…they had…)

Pain erupted in the side of his face.

Yuugi opened his eyes, his hand instinctively rising up to cup his cheek, which now shone bright red, as if rouged. He was gazing at the hardwood floor of his cottage in a daze, and when he raised his head, he saw the familiar piercing glare staring back at him.

The witch apprentice met his master's eyes.

Dartz didn't look angry; in fact, now that Yuugi thought about it, he had rarely seen the man look genuinely furious. Upset and annoyed, sure (particularly at the times when, for some reason or another, Yuugi hadn't been able to concentrate on some exercise or given task at hand – the boy had always had a bad tendency to be a bit of a scatterbrain sometimes.)

Yuugi took this as an opportunity to apologize – he could try to appease his master before anything too serious could happen: he was feeling guilty and remorseful enough already, almost desperate for forgiveness. If he could just explain everything…

He bowed low, and then rose up to meet the other face-to-face. But before he could even begin to move his lips to mouth the words needed, or to gesture with his hands – Dartz laughed.

"Oh Yuugi," he shushed, as if talking to a dear friend or a child, "save your breath, please. We both know that making up excuses in your situation would be...challenging, to say the least."

Dartz seemed to be almost amused by his own words, because when he continued, he sounded like he was holding back a chuckle – as if he was about to tell the punchline to a joke.

"We could say the cat got your tongue, no?"

He didn't laugh (though a part of Yuugi was expecting him to) but rather smiled amicably, crouching down to the other's level – and suddenly, he reached out, winding his hand around Yuugi's ankle and proceeding to yank the whole length of the leg to him – this led to Yuugi losing his balance, and the boy fell and hit his head against the floor.

"My," Dartz breathed out, "what a beautiful pair of slippers you have here!" He cupped one of the glass shoes in his hands, sliding a long, slender finger from the clasp to the very tip of the shoe, before dipping down. He hummed, seemingly lost in his own thoughts, as he ran a nail up the arch of the foot, and then stopped to give the bottom of the heel a quick tap.

"Yes, quite the craftsmanship…"he murmured softly, sounding pleased.

Yuugi sighed silently under his breath, feeling the clawed grip on his heart loosen. His head ached, having collided with the floor (not to mention that he was still experiencing the aftershock from being forcibly put under the influence of a teleportation rune) but the relief he felt worked wonders as a painkiller.

"Did you enchant these yourself?"

Yuugi nodded eagerly, unable to resist a grin as he detected a clear wisp of pride in his master's voice. Crafting glass – particularly into such an intricate shape as a shoe, which was supposed to be both beautiful, as well as practical – was no easy feat; not even for the more experienced witches. Glass was an especially finicky material to work with, whether there was magic involved or not: fragile by nature, and easy to break, as it couldn't usually take that much pressure before shattering. To handle and enchant it properly, you had to learn how to evenly distribute your mana – which was much more difficult than it sounded.

"I've taught you well, it seems…"

It looked like Dartz was particularly taken with this accomplishment in magical crafting, Yuugi noted (if the fact that the man was still holding onto the shoe was any indication.) So, perhaps there was still hope left for him after all? For the boy knew that what he had done was wrong, as he had not only disobeyed a direct order given to him by his master, but he had also broken one of the rules of the Witches' Codex; but on the other hand, he had provided proof of his skills as an apprentice witch, if in a rather roundabout way. Of course, some sort of sanction would no doubt still be in order, but –

"– but don't you think these things are a little uncomfortable?"

Yuugi blinked. What did Dartz mean by that? Sure, strutting in high heels wasn't exactly like walking on cloud nine, but they weren't the Spanish boots either. The fact that the slippers were made of glass instead of, say, leather, made hardly any difference to him, really.

"Yuugi, my boy…with uncomfortable, I merely meant to lament how cold it must be for you in these shoes. It is…quite chilly out there tonight, after all."

Yuugi shook his head, silent laughter bubbling up his throat. What was his master talking about? He wasn't feeling cold at all – not in the least! He hadn't been so stupid (although the boy did admit having done quite many a daft thing lately) as not to lace some artificial warmth into the slippers while making them: it was nothing a quick rune couldn't do.

Dartz chuckled, too, tugging the boy upright.

"Come on, take a seat – let's warm up those feet a bit, shall we?" he said, smiling – pulling up a chair next to hearth, ushering Yuugi to sit –

"Good thing I've just fed the furnace."

Jounouchi was taking a leisurely walk along one of the many footpaths spread across the castle grounds. He had decided that a little breather was in order: the ballroom had been filled to the brim with stuck-up people, and, quite frankly, the blond was getting sick of being shoved and stepped on.

Of course, Jounouchi knew very well that he was just a simple servant; thus, his job was to assist the guests to the best of his ability (and fortunately, that somehow also meant sampling the buffet foods.) Nonetheless, while he was a mere peasant, that didn't mean that people with noble backgrounds could treat him like a mindless puppet; as if he was there only to be ordered around!

So, the blond had snatched up a plate with a small assortment of snacks, and promptly marched out into the cool night air – the others could manage for a few moments without him. No one had really seen him leave, either (one of the side-effects of being a waiter; nobody ever noticed you – at least not until they suddenly needed you to do something for them) so Jounouchi was confident that he could have his little outing without ending up in any too serious trouble. Besides, he really wanted to go check on the two lovebirds –

Jounouchi barked out a laugh, and he hastily covered up his mouth to muffle it. The wicked grin that split his face looked almost comically deranged in the moonlight, and now the sound of gross chuckling was accompanying the soft rustling of the trees.

He wondered if Atem had managed to spit out the magic words yet – probably not, he thought. The guy sure liked to play all cool and tough, but in the end, he was really just one big wimp (at this, a tiny voice resembling that of Atem berated him –you're just as big of a chicken yourself, remember? – but it was swiftly silenced.)

He imagined that at this point, the prince had most likely either gone completely mute (now there was a sight Jounouchi would pay to see!) or he was probably babbling incoherent nonsense as a way of striking up an awkward conversation – which in turn would be the sign that Atem had finally gone off his rocker for good, the blond decided.

Or perhaps the prince had managed to confess (in a very inelegant way, naturally) and Jounouchi would catch the two doing the kissy-kissy – that would make excellent blackmail material; he would never let Atem live it down!

With that nasty piece of a plot concocting in his head – the blond was already imagining all the possible comebacks he would have to Atem's future quips with this new change of events – Jounouchi almost didn't see the prince running towards him. In fact, he doubted he would have noticed him at all, had Atem not tripped in his hurry, and thus barrelled straight into him.

"W-whoa!" Jounouchi exclaimed loudly, barely keeping his balance. The plate filled with goodies teetered precariously in his hand – but fortunately, it did not tilt over. After seeing that no food was wasted, he turned to look at the prince, who was already scampering back up to his feet.

Jounouchi grabbed him by the arm.

"Hey, buddy – what's the rush? The party ain't over by a long shot!"

Atem snarled.

Jounouchi pulled his hand away as if he had been burned.

"Dude, what's your damage –" he was about to shout, offended (first the guy not only runs into him, but then he also has the audacity to growl at him, too; that was a first for Atem) but the prince was already up and running, kicking up dirt as he went.

Jounouchi huffed. He began to empty what little there was left on his plate (a biscuit and half a tuna sandwich) and having done that, he decided to follow after the guy: if the other was about to do something stupid – and he probably was – then the blond wanted a first-row seat.

(He was a bit worried, too – but only a bit.)

It was easy to find Atem – all Jounouchi had to do was to follow the shocked faces (one guest in particular looked like they were about to either faint or scream; Jounouchi didn't know which one it would be, but he didn't want to stay around to find out, either.) Finally, he met Atem at the stables. The prince was bridling one of the horses, obviously fuming – his shaking hands were tugging at the slips of leather in an almost violent way.

Jounouchi, deciding to live dangerously, tapped the other on the shoulder.

"Hey, pal – what's going on? Ya okay?"

He was fully expecting to get majorly chewed out (for although it was a rare occurrence, Jounouchi had once witnessed one of Atem's temper tantrums – it hadn't been a pretty sight) and because of this, the blond almost jumped out of his skin when, instead of blowing up, Atem simply turned to stare at him, looking pale like he had just seen a ghost.

Something had gone horribly wrong.

"…did…did Yuugi…like, ya know…" Jounouchi ventured to question, not knowing how to handle the matter of possible rejection tactfully (why on earth would the witch even turn him down – he was clearly in love with the other, too!)

Atem shook his head, turning around to check the cinch one more time before mounting the horse.

"It's nothing like that. I – I just have to go."

Jounouchi felt a chill run down his spine at Atem's tone of voice: it was shaky, almost unrecognizable.

"…that serious?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer; one look at that face was enough to tell him that this was no small problem with an easy do-it-yourself solution to it.

Still, the prince nodded briefly, his expression solemn, confirming Jounouchi's thoughts.

"…yeah," he said, grimly, "I…I think Yuugi is in trouble."

Atem squeezed the reins in his hands; his eyes were hidden behind a veil of messy bangs.

"He…he disappeared, just like that – and no, he didn't do it on his own this time! Don't give me that look!"

He was shaking.

"He – Yuugi was in pain, Jounouchi – he was crying –!"

The prince's voice cracked. He shook his head vigorously, almost angrily, his hair looking even more wild and intimidating than usual as it swished forth like a whip. Suddenly, he slumped where he sat, and when he spoke, he sounded like he hadn't slept well in weeks (briefly, the other wondered if this was actually the case – Atem certainly looked tired enough, with his skin dark and drawn under the eyes.)

"I…I'm going to visit the cottage, to see if he's alright, okay? You stay here."

The blond blew a fuse.

"What! Are ya crazy?!" he yelled, his hands balling up into fists, nails biting into the skin of his palms, "I ain't letting ya go alone – who knows what's in there! Yuugi might need both of us –!"

"THAT'S AN ORDER!"

Jounouchi felt like he had been slapped.

Ordering his friend like that had been a low blow, and Atem knew it very well (as it was evident by the guilt that was now nestling in the prince's gut, mingling with his worry and adding to his blatant unease.) Jounouchi and he – they had known each other for who knew how long (he doubted either of them remembered anymore, to be honest) but despite having been close for years, the gap between their social statuses had always been somewhat of a sore spot for the blond.

Jounouchi came from a broken home: having an alcoholic drunk of a father, who later died of liver failure ("Good riddance", the prince had once heard Jounouchi say about him on the rare odd times he spoke about the man at all.) Widowed, Jounouchi's mother had slowly begun to succumb to depression – and her state had only got worse when Shizuka had started to show signs of losing her eyesight.

At that point, Atem had seen how close to collapsing Jounouchi himself had been, too – the blond had tried his best to keep up a happy and goofy front for the others, but at the same time, Shizuka was his all and everything: to have a disease suddenly come and destroy her dreams of being an artist had been hard for him, too. And then, after Shizuka had been cured, the two had had to lose their mother soon after –

Atem shook his head. This was not the time to dwell on those days, now. He gave the horse another swift kick, spurring her into faster gallop.

Yes, he regretted hitting his friend where it hurt the most (having issued him with a command like a lowly subject) but he couldn't let Jounouchi come with him; the prince had bad enough a feeling about all this already. It was an ominous sensation: like a lone chill that was creeping down your spine one moment, then gone the next – but still never quite leaving you for good.

Whatever it was (whatever would happen, whatever he would encounter, whatever he would find) Atem would rather not have anyone else face it if he could help it –

– or perhaps the prince was simply upset, and therefore overly cautious. Perhaps the situation wasn't all that dire at all: maybe Yuugi had just left by himself – most likely because he had been too scared to reject the prince (the boy had trouble saying "no" to anyone about anything, really; it would be no surprise.)

This meant that Atem must have imagined the tears and the scrunched-up expression of pain Yuugi had been wearing when he had disappeared – it had simply been but a trick of the light. Thus, the real reason why the prince was on his way to visit the boy wasn't because he wished to check up on him, but because he wanted an honest answer to his confession –

– a selfish reason, above and over all else.

However, being both the heir to the throne of Domino, as well as an avid gamer, Atem had learned to trust his intuition at a surprisingly young age. It was his last line of defence, should everything else fail; his weapon of choice, so to speak. It had been honed by all the hardships he had faced throughout his life, and to this day, it had served him most impeccably.

And right now, this same gut instinct that had kept him on a winning streak (and alive) for all his years, was telling him to be careful. In fact, the deeper the prince ventured into the thick woods, the more alarms began to go off in his head, urging him to just turn around and flee. His steed seemed to share the same thoughts, for when they reached the path leading to the clearing, the mare suddenly rooted to the spot – and no matter what Atem did, she refused to move: only neighing in distress when asked to continue.

This left the prince no choice but to dismount. He gave the mare a pat on the muzzle, hoping that it would calm her down, before leaving – he would have to carry on by foot for the rest of the way; fortunately, Yuugi's cabin was but a short jog away at this point.

Atem did his best to keep his pace swift, not wanting to waste any time; but the unruly flora, not to mention the big protruding tree roots, made it frustratingly difficult. He had visited the Turtle Forest on dozens of occasions after meeting Yuugi for the first time, but back then, it had always been on horseback: thus, the journey had been a relatively comfortable ride each time (though how enjoyable it had been for the horse, he didn't know.) But now that the prince had to actually go the distance himself –

– it wasn't nearly as easy as one might have thought. And as he was pulling himself up after his third fall, mouth full of dirt, Atem began to see why people avoided this place: the whole woods seemed just to have it out for humans and other bipedal beings. The bed of the forest was an uneven mess, covered in plants that were not only huge, but slippery as well – and the occasional root that was busy playing peek-a-boo amongst the moss certainly didn't help the matters.

It was more than the mischievous plant life, too. Because of the thick foliage blocking out the sunlight, it was almost impossible to see where exactly you were about to put your foot down on. So, essentially, you were bound to trip over something sooner or later, no matter what you did. Moreover, because of the constant shade, it was almost always frigid in the woods, too, regardless of the weather.

The place was also known as nature's own maze; it was incredibly easy to get lost in here if you weren't absolutely sure on your current location, and already familiar with the surroundings. Luckily for Atem, all he had to was to follow the path that lay there right in front of him (so at least he had no fear of losing his way) but the unfortunate kids who decided to have a little stroll in the woods because of sheer curiosity or a dare –

– well, there was a reason why parents told their children not to come here.

Eventually, after what felt like a short eternity to him, the prince finally made it to the clearing (worse for wear, but otherwise alive.) Outwards, nothing seemed amiss: the cottage was still up, with no broken windows or a kicked-down door – there was even smoke coming up from the chimney.

The garden hadn't been ransacked, either: vegetables and herbs sat neatly in their own beds (a number of them looked like they were ready to be harvested, too.)

Everything seemed to be just fine –

– so why didn't the nagging feeling at the back of his mind go away?

The hairs on the back of Atem's neck stood up, and his arms became riddled with goose bumps as he approached the house. For the first time in a long while, the small pouch in his pocket felt heavy again.

The prince waited before the witch's doorstep for a long time, not knowing whether or not enter. He fought to find his bearings, to silence the alarms that were now full-out blaring in his head – but eventually, he did open the door.

A part of him wished he hadn't done that.