He clutched the small little piece of wood tightly, carefully tracing his fingers over the tiny scratch marks that spiraled over it. It was harder to read with his eyes, but human fingers were not really meant for reading his language either. It took him some time to work out what the words said.

His name was Kelevra Presley. He was pretending to be human and he spoke in English. The man in the bed was a Time Lord named Harold Mott and he needed caring for while recovering from an injury. The woman who owned the building was named Bridget Bishop and she was a friend.

Don't worry, the note finished. It will come back.

It had been signed with the name from his birth, which meant that he must have written the note himself, or else it was someone he knew well. He could remember Bridget but he struggled to remember how to speak English. A few times, when Bridget came to check on him, she blinked at him curiously and stated that she had no idea what he was saying and, though he could have sworn he had been speaking English, it would turn out he was speaking in Hebrew. Luckily, Bridget didn't seem to mind.

He could almost remember Harry. There was something vaguely familiar about him and there were moments where it felt like the memory of him was rising up, right in front of his eyes, only to vanish before he got a proper look. It felt especially frustrating because he could quite easily remember Harry's son.

There was a soft knock at the door and Bridget came in. She was smiling when she peered around the door, but the smile vanished as soon as she saw the piece of wood in his hands.

"Have you forgotten again, love?"

His first instinct was to deny it, toss the wood aside and make some comment about being sure that things were in order, but he couldn't seem to make himself do it. Instead, with the feelings of being lost and confused seeming to become so much bigger in an instant, he gave a quick nod.

"It's not the first time today, is it?" he asked.

Bridget shook her head, closing the door behind her and quickly making her way to his side. "Don't let it worry you," she said, putting her arm around his shoulders and giving him a tight squeeze. "You'll be alright, you hear me? You're going to be just fine."

"How many times have I forgotten today?"

"It doesn't matter. You're speaking in English at least. That's an improvement."

"I need to know how many times."

Bridget looked at him unhappily and sighed. "Three, that I know of."

"And what time is it?"

She sighed again, hesitating in her answer. "It's almost noon."

It didn't used to be so bad, he was sure of it. He had been able to function day to day and had kept it a secret from almost everyone. That would be impossible now. Even ignoring the way it impacted his ability to communicate or go about his day, he could feel the anxiety over the situation starting to settle in and make itself at home. It was a constant feeling of the first day at school, or the first time trying to blend in with his host's species. Instead of focusing on what he needed to do, all he could think about was how inadequate and helpless he felt.

What if the memories didn't come back? What if he continued to forget and forget until there was nothing left of him but a clueless body relying on the kindness of strangers to survive? He looked at Bridget's face, smiling but with eyes that showed concern and sympathy, and realized that it seemed that had already happened.

"I don't know what to do."

Bridget's face changed a little, her eyes showing signs of pain. "You're going to go home," she answered eagerly. "And you're going to see a doctor and get this all sorted out. You'll be fine."

She didn't understand. A human wouldn't.

He traced his clumsy fingers over the scratches in the wood again, willing it to somehow feel familiar, grasping for any piece of memory he could find. It was just there, he could feel it hiding just barely past what he could perceive. It was infuriating.

The look in her eyes was lingering, growing even. What was he doing? Put it away, he reminded himself and made his host stand up straight.

"Apologies. I have work to do."

Bridget left him without much fuss. She was never one to drag out something that ought to be simple—he quite liked that about her. He started with the things he knew and hoped that the rest would come back to him.

Harry had a low burning fever and appeared a little pale. Kel remembered the concerning amount of blood he lost and felt satisfied that that could account for his colour. He brewed some tea and melted a little snow near the fire. Harry barely stirred while Kel washed his face for him and, even when Kel tried to wake him, he seemed to only come half way back to the world. Kel could sense the pain he felt and watched the way the muscles in his face contracted as he sipped at his tea. He was hurting worse than he was letting on and, despite his cooperation, seemed to just want to go back to sleep more than anything.

The salve came next but Harry already seemed to be back asleep by the time Kel returned to his bedside with it. It would have been easier just to wake Harry and have him apply it himself, but Kel managed to do it by carefully using a cloth. While he rubbed it into Harry's skin, Harry's hand moved to gently rest on Kel's arm—an entirely absent-minded and familiar kind of touch.

Of course, he thought, he must be missing his husband. Perhaps he was even dreaming of him, craving to be home and safe and surrounded by the people he loved. Kel went in search of a prepared stone to offer whatever comfort he could. Despite appearing asleep, Harry's hand seemed to eagerly take it when it was handed to him.

He went to the wash basin to tend to his own wounds while Harry drifted off into a state of contentment. It wasn't until he had a cloth in hand, standing before the mirror, that he realized he had no wounds to tend. There was no split in his lip and any signs of bruising was gone. He undid a couple of the buttons on his shirt and pulled it aside, discovering that all of the small, painful scratches and scrapes across his shoulder and chest were gone without a trace.

It must have healed, he supposed. But, if it had healed, how much time had passed? The scratches weren't very deep and would have healed within a few days, but his lip would have taken much longer. There was nothing—not even a faint pink mark to show where it had once been. He wanted to find relief in discovering that his host was all in one piece but something about the discovery was deeply unsettling and he suddenly found that he didn't care to look in the mirror any longer.

It was starting to snow outside. It wouldn't be enough to cause any kind of problems for traveling but he frowned at it all the same. Unpleasant weather for unpleasant business. He kept reminding himself that it was necessary as he dressed for the cold. Hathorne had information that he needed, and if the man needed his ego stroked a little bit before giving it up, there were certainly worse ways to spend an afternoon.

Harry was beginning to stir by the time he was ready. He hadn't spoken yet, but Kel saw him open his eyes a little and look around the room. Kel considered finding some excuse to linger a while and see if Harry was well enough to get up. He even considered asking Harry directly if he would accompany him in case his memory started slipping again, but quickly decided against it. He had been on his own for most of his life and managed just fine; there was no point in getting spooked and wanting a companion now, especially if it meant putting Harry's health at risk.

"You need to rest," Kel said, uncertain if Harry was awake enough to even be listening. "Most of what you'll need is on the table so don't get up unless absolutely necessary. I should be back in a couple of hours."

Harry made a soft groan in response and Kel took that to mean he understood. Kel stopped to ask Bridget to check in on Harry while he was gone, and perhaps bring him some soup if she felt kind enough. She agreed and Kel could tell from the way she looked at him that she wanted to tell him not to go out alone, but she held her tongue. Kel wasn't sure if it was because she wanted to save his pride or if it was because she didn't think he would listen anyway, but he was thankful that she chose to stay quiet. He hated to tell her no.

He felt that pull again, like someone was gently tugging at his sleeve. He could ask Bridget to come with him, he realized. She would, if he asked, he knew that without a doubt. But she and Hathorne seemed to have a rather old and deep dislike for each other and he knew that her presence would simply cost him Hathorne's cooperation. Besides, someone needed to look after Harry.

The snow was light and there was no wind but he instinctively pulled his scarf a little tighter when he stepped out into the cold. Apparently, the grudge with Bridget ran so deep that Hathorne refused to even be seen near her tavern, so Kel trekked through the snow towards the village.

Within fifteen minutes he spotted Hathorne up the road, wrapped in an expensive looking coat smoking a pipe. The man grinned when he saw Kel and quickly began to stride towards him.

"Doctor," he called in greeting. "Not built for the cold, are you?"

Kel realized that he had his shoulders hunched up and visibly tensed, as if he were expecting a gust of wind to knock him over. "I'm not accustomed to quite so much snow." He forced his shoulders to relax and smiled.

Hathorne's grin spread a little more, apparently pleased. "Still smiling though."

"Of course," Kel answered. "I need to live up to my new name, don't I?"

"Suppose so." Hathorne dumped his pipe ashes into the snow and lifted his arm towards a fence post a little further on where two sturdy looking horses were tied. "Are you accustomed to riding horses?"

Kel maintained his smile and tried not to look worried. "I'm afraid not."

Hathorne chuckled in amusement. "The Smiling Man from the land of no snow and no horses. The tale of how you found yourself in Salem must be strange indeed."

"A rather simple story of not staying in one place," Kel answered with a shrug.

Hathorne didn't press for any answers. He seemed rather content to talk about unimportant things or to simply discuss the comings and goings of the village. Kel managed to mount the horse himself but must have looked unsure once he was up. Hathorne laughed at him and told him to simply hold onto the reigns and that the horse would follow his own. After only a few minutes though, Hathorne slowed his own horse and had Kel hand the reigns to him so that he could lead both horses and keep them side by side for conversation.

Hathorne seemed pleasant enough and he had gone through some trouble to set aside time for this little adventure. He hadn't asked for something more convenient or complained about spending the day in the cold. He had been a perfect gentleman so far and Kel could even appreciate that he would be considered handsome for a human, but he couldn't seem to get comfortable around him.

He kept thinking that Doug wouldn't have liked him. Doug liked everyone.

"You haven't heard anything in the tavern, have you?"

Kel's mind snapped back to the present moment and did his best to look sheepish. "Apologies," he said, scratching the back of his neck the way he often saw people do when they felt embarrassed. "My thoughts were elsewhere."

Hathorne didn't seem to mind. He simply nodded and repeated himself.

"People are saying that Giles Corey was taken by the spirit in the woods. We're not likely to get a true answer as long as that's what they think. I wondered if you'd heard anything at your lodgings?"

The image of blood splattered in the snow and Harry's shocked face came to mind.

"Not really," he answered with a shake of his head. "I've heard his name mentioned. I knew he was missing but I never paid much attention to the gossip."

"I don't blame you," Hathorne answered with a sigh. "It's wearisome, really, but can be useful in rare moments and finding the whereabouts of Mr. Corey is important enough that any gossip requires investigation."

"He must be well missed."

Hathorne shrugged his shoulders. "He has a family, yes, but the man's land is quite valuable. If he's dead, the church will want to investigate to determine what happens to his property. His sons have a lot to gain from his death."

"And if he's alive?"

"The church will want to know where he's been and why."

"The church seems terribly interested in Mr. Corey to be so concerned about his doings."

Hathorne smiled in a way that showed all his teeth and he answered with a tone that suggested he thought he was rather clever. "Should a man be found guilty of certain crimes, his property is forfeit to the church and, as I said, Mr. Corey's property is quite valuable. The church feels it is in the best interest of everyone to be sure it goes to the right hands."

Kel frowned and answered quietly, "I see."

Kel wondered what would happen if they found Mr. Corey's body buried in the woods. He hadn't thought about it much before. He had simply hoped that he and Harry would be long gone by the time they found any proof of Corey's death and he supposed, even then, that his murder would likely remain a mystery. He felt less sure about that now.

"Is there any reason to discredit the gossip?" Kel asked cautiously. "If people are being taken by some spirit in the woods, why not Mr. Corey?"

Hathorne looked at him with an expression full of amusement. "Are you pretending to be a fool or thinking that I am one?"

Kel smiled, giving himself a brief moment to think. "You don't believe the story then?"

"Of course not," Hathorne answered with a dismissive wave of his hand. "These people will come up with a story for anything that frightens them—demons or spirits. Most like there's a weak spot on the riverside and people are slipping into the water or perhaps there's a robber clever enough not to let his victims leave."

"If you don't believe there's a spirit, then why did you agree to bring me here?"

"I can say I've done my duty to the people by searching for those missing or for whatever made them go missing." He grinned again, all teeth and confidence. "And it's a nice way to get away from prying eyes. I find it can be difficult to truly enjoy another's company when there are so many people watching."

Of course, that must be difficult. Kel tried to think of something sympathetic to say, or at least something to acknowledge the struggle that Hathorne must face, but the words didn't seem to come. He didn't really know what it was like but he tried to imagine seeing someone like Doctor Noble not being able to express any affection or love for his husband and it seemed like some kind of crime—cruel and sad. He didn't know how to pretend he understood that feeling, so he simply nodded and stayed quiet.

He spent most of the rest of the journey thinking about Mr. Corey. He smiled and nodded and gave half-hearted answers to Hathorne's musings, but his mind kept wandering out to the woods. On the other side of the river, not far into the trees, below several feet of snow and soil, Mr. Corey was waiting for someone to find him, or else for someone to dig him up and retrieve the precious packages he had been stuffed with. People were looking for a man—a husband and father—and, instead, they would find an incubator.

He knew he should feel bad about that. Harry, even with his ability to see the logic in Kel's decision, had been somewhat disturbed. Doug would likely be horrified. It was the kind of thing that Kel would never tell him. He was too kind to understand the reasoning, perhaps rightly so, and Kel wouldn't want Doug to see him any differently. Perhaps Nista would understand the logic, but he doubted that even he would see it the same way Kel did.

At first glance, what happened to Mr. Corey was cruel and tragic but, behind the veil of shock and disgust, there was something almost beautiful about it. The man was doomed to die slowly, painfully, and, worst of all, pointlessly. In half a heartbeat—the time it took for Kel to draw his gun and pull the trigger—his death became meaningful. He would play a large part in Kel and Harry's ability to get home. He would be reuniting a family. Reuniting friends. He might even be saving the universe by returning Harry to where he was needed. Any person that Harry or Kel managed to save in the days to come would be thanks to Mr. Corey—their children and their grandchildren and the generations that came after them. An entire future had been altered and grown in a way that was impossible to track or calculate, branching out and continuing, possibly forever. And everything that shifted in that moment had been captured in the image of a simple red splatter in snow.

He hoped that he didn't forget it.

His mind was still beneath the ground with Corey when he felt Hathorne's hand on his arm. "Do you need help getting down?"

He hadn't noticed that he had stopped or that Hathorne had dismounted and tied the horses to tree. Either that, or he had forgotten in a matter of seconds.

"No, thank you," he said quickly and began to get down on his own. Help might have actually been nice, as he was unsure of how to work his feet, but tried to do it on his own anyway.

"Your thoughts seemed to be elsewhere again."

"Apologies," Kel answered, pausing to make sure his feet landed on the ground. "The life of a doctor leaves little time for leisure, even when it comes to thinking."

"I understand." Hathorne smiled kindly and held an arm out towards the path. "I heard that your companion has fallen ill."

Kel tried not to sound or look annoyed. Even on a path, there tended to be muddy patches, roots, or dips the earth worn in by feet and wagon wheels. It was difficult to hold a conversation while walking over such uneven terrain. Apparently, Kel's lack of participation in the conversation so far had done nothing to deter Hathorne from continuing.

"I'm afraid so. A fever and a terrible headache. He should recover with a couple days worth of rest though."

"I suppose I had best keep you company until then."

Kel glanced at Hathorne and made himself smile. "If my work allows for it."

Hathorne laughed. "You work allows for you to go hunting after imaginary spirits."

"My work allows for me to investigate an area where multiple people have disappeared."

Hathorne's face fell a little. "And here I was hoping you found my company enjoyable."

Was he being offensive? Was he being off-putting? It wouldn't do to upset Hathorne. Offending him could be very problematic for the mission.

He smiled. "I will admit it is a pleasant side effect."

That earned a quick smile in return. Good. He'd have to be more careful of that. It seemed that Hathorne's ego was bruised a little more easily than Kel was used to.

"Now, there doesn't seem to be one particular spot that's been mentioned," Hathorne explained, turning his attention back to the path ahead of them. "Though all reports are from this stretch of the road—about a mile and a half, maybe two."

Everything was fine for a while. They walked along the road, chatting and glancing into the trees for anything unusual. Hathorne managed to slip in a couple of casual mention of future outings together, talking about what he would show him "next time". Kel knew that the only way he could really respond was to be agreeable. It didn't matter that he had no interest in hunting or that he already knew how pretty the riverside was in the summer—Hathorne didn't really want to know anyway.

Eventually, they left the road. Kel was beginning to think that they had a better chance of finding evidence of something in the trees rather than on the road, but Hathorne suggested it first. He picked his way carefully through the snow but, no matter how slowly he went, it felt like the tree roots were grabbing at him. He started to feel a little foolish, tripping and stumbling every few steps. He glanced over at Hathorne and saw that he seemed to be having no such difficulties.

Finally, his foot caught badly enough that he couldn't correct it. He felt his ankle twist painfully and he started to fall. He felt a strong grip on his arm and his body stopped before it hit the ground.

"Not built for the woods either, I see," Hathorne said with a tone of amusement as he pulled Kel back to his feet. "I'm beginning to think the only thing you are built for is the pub."

"The pub is warm," Kel grumbled. "And there's plenty to drink."

His ankle was injured, but he was not sure how badly. Hathorne kept hold of his arm, offering support and balance, and then graciously swept the snow off of a fallen log.

"Is it broken?" he asked.

"I don't think so. I just need to see how it can move without any weight on it and we'll see."

Kel sat down on the log and straightened his leg out before him. He quickly realized that his boots didn't allow for enough movement for him to able to properly assess the damage. With a sigh and only a moment of hesitation, he leaned forward to try and remove it.

"Let me," Hathorne said quickly. "You don't want to make it worse."

Hathorne knelt before him, not seeming to mind the snow at all, and began to gently remove the boot.

"That's really not necessary," Kel said quietly and made a feeble attempt to pull his foot away.

"I disagree," Hathorne answered, and his hands did not let go.

Kel decided not to argue. What harm did it do to allow it? Hathorne was only trying to be kind. If it had been Doug helping him, he knew he wouldn't think twice about it. He rather enjoyed it when Doug fussed over him, in fact. It seemed almost petty to behave differently for Hathorne simply because they didn't know each other as well.

The boot came off without too much pain and Kel leaned forward for a look. He could see the beginnings of some swelling and perhaps even a little bruising but he'd certainly endured worse. He moved it around carefully, paying attention to any sensations coming from the nerves and tendons, working out where the problem was.

"Just a sprain," he announced after a moment. "Nothing to worry about." He eyed the snow around him for a moment, half trying to convince himself it wasn't needed and half telling himself to grow up. Eventually, he sighed and searched his pockets for a handkerchief. "Best ice it for a little while."

He scooped some snow off of the log beside him to bundle up in the handkerchief but, before he could lean forward to apply it, Hathorne quickly took it from his hands.

"Let me."

It was just kindness, Kel kept reminding himself. Hathorne was only being kind and showing concern. It was normal to expect and he shouldn't act like it was a bad thing.

"You're not used to someone taking care of you."

It was a statement, not a question. Kel wasn't sure how to respond to a statement like that, especially since it was true, so he chose not to speak. He didn't know how to do this sort of thing. If it were Harry, he would know exactly what to say—finding a way to diffuse the situation with charm and wit. Doug would embrace the awkwardness of it and find a way to admit he was uncomfortable in a way that was amusing or heartwarming. Kel was certain that anything he tried would come simply be perceived as rude.

So he just smiled.

Maybe Hathorne had already made up his mind about what he wanted to do and would have done it no matter what. Maybe Kel had accidentally sent some kind of message he hadn't intended to. Maybe it was as simple as the implied intimacy of the moment. Kel didn't know what sparked the action but, quite suddenly and too quickly for Kel to react, Hathorne moved forward and kissed him.

Harry told him that something like this wouldn't happen. It was a different time with different rules and men had to be much more cautious about their attractions to other men. Even if something were to happen, he had expected that he would have some sort of warning—a chance to stop it before it started. Now it was happening and he didn't know what to do. Even if he had wanted to reciprocate, he'd never experienced a human kiss before and he didn't really know how it was supposed to be done. He tried to remember anything he'd seen before—movies, the odd intimate moment between Annie and Kevin or Harry and the Doctor, a wedding he once stumbled across while walking through a park—but, somehow, thinking about those moments made this one seem worse and he simply wanted to get away from it more.

He thought he pulled himself back but the smile on Hathorne's face made him think that perhaps it was Hathorne who had put an end to it. He looked quite pleased. That was good, he supposed.

Kel cleared his throat and tried to avoid the urge to pull further back. Toppling off the log while trying to lean away probably wouldn't be very helpful when it came to that easily bruised ego he had been trying to cater to.

"That was unexpected." It was the only thing he could think to say.

He felt the pulses coming from Hathorne change—a sudden shift towards concern.

"Not too unexpected, I hope."

It was a different time, Kel reminded himself. A situation like this could be dangerous for a man if he'd made a mistake. He had to remember to smile.

"Unexpected so soon," Kel corrected. "I'm not really used to this sort of thing."

Hathorne grinned. "There's no one here," he said in a near whisper.

Kel felt a small surge of panic rising up inside him. "It's quite cold," he said quickly. "You know I don't like the cold." He leaned forward to push the bundle of snow away from his foot and grabbed his boot.

"Of course," Hathorne answered, although there was a little hesitation in his voice now. "And with an injury like that, best get you somewhere warm. My home isn't far."

"I really should return to my lodgings."

Hathorne was starting to frown now. "We would still be exploring the woods had you not been hurt. No one is expecting you for some time."

Kel finished tying his boot and pulled himself to his feet. He felt a small twinge of complaint from the ankle but it didn't seem like much. He could simply block the pain receptors if he had to.

"My companion is ill and I have other patients."

Hathorne reached out and grabbed his hand tightly. "Come now, Dr. Presley," he said with a smile. "A short visit won't hurt."

Kel hesitated, thinking. Was he making a mistake? Hathorne's forward behaviour had startled him so perhaps he hadn't really thought this through. It was only a kiss, after all. There was nothing really wrong with a kiss, was there? And what would he do if Kel walked away from him?

Hathorne's eyes were watching him carefully, his hand still holding on tightly. He moved forward again, this time bringing up his other hand to Kel's face, touching his cheek when he kissed him. Kel tried not to recoil, reminding himself that it was only a kiss and yet somehow finding himself unable to stand still and allow it. He stepped back. Hathorne stepped with him, holding onto him, kissing him more fiercely than before.

Kel tried to step away again and suddenly Hathorne changed from moving with him to pushing him. His back hit a tree hard enough to knock some of the air from his lungs. He was starting to panic and he put his hands up to Hathorne's chest to gently try to separate them, but Hathorne simply pushed harder, pinning his body against the tree. Kel realized that the problem was not that Hathorne didn't understand.

Kel braced his back against the tree and shoved hard, forcing Hathorne away. The other man stumbled backwards in the snow, his face changing instantly to an expression that was so ugly it made the man almost unrecognizable.

"How dare you?" Kel barked at him.

Hathorne responded with a fist. The punch landed right on his mouth, nearly knocking him over and slicing his lips on his teeth. Before Kel was able to recover, Hathorne charged forward, shoving his body into Kel's and sending him sprawling. He slammed into the tree the other way around this time, the bark scraping into the skin on his chest and neck, creating dozens of tiny cuts as he fell.

Kel opened his eyes and saw the punch that cut his lip had send a small spray of blood onto the ground and suddenly he was looking at his own simple red splatter in the snow.

How had he killed Mr. Corey?

Kel began frantically searching his coat pockets for his gun. He must have brought a gun. He always had a gun. Of all the things to forget, he couldn't believe that he would forget his only line of defense. He felt Hathorne grab the back of his collar just as his hand closed around cold metal in his pocket. He looked up, prepared to turn and fire, when his eyes found a surprise instead.

Hathorne must have seen it too. He'd frozen, completely unmoving with his hand still gripping Kel's collar.

"What is this!?" Hathorne asked angrily, as if he thought Kel had something to do with it.

Gun in his hand and blood in his mouth, Kel forgot everything except what was right in front of him. "I don't know."

It made no sense. What was it doing all the way out here? There was no snow built up on it at all, but the snow around it was smooth and undisturbed. There was a dragging trail in the snow behind it, but no tracks of any kind to show who or what might have dragged it.

A stone statue of an angel stood there in the snow, impossibly, where it had certainly not been a few moments before.

The mystery of it didn't seem to be as interesting to Hathorne, who recovered within a few seconds and roughly pulled at Kel's collar. Kel was yanked backwards into the snow and was scrambling again to find his gun when Hathorne suddenly let go with a surprised yelp.

Kel looked up again and nearly yelped himself. The statue had moved. In the split second that their resumed scuffle had lasted, the angel had somehow come several feet closer and it had changed positions. It had been covering its face with its hands before, but now it had its hands slightly lowered, revealing its face.

Kel tried to calm his host's pounding heart and focus, feeling for the tiny pulses of electric current in the air. It was there—faint and barely readable, but there.

It was alive.

Kel realized that this might be his only chance to get away—that red splatter in the snow lingering in his mind. Hathorne didn't stop him when he scrambled to his feet, nor did he make any attempt to protest until Kel was beyond the reach of his arm.

Hathorne started to say something but the beginning of a word abruptly turned to a startled yell. Kel looked back over his shoulder and saw that the angel had moved again. Its face had turned to a snarl, revealing vicious looking teeth, and its hands were reaching out, looking like it had tried to grab Hathorne by the throat and stopping just a few inches short.

Kel kept moving. Hathorne started shouting at him, asking him where he was going and telling him to come back. Kel chose not to answer and silently hoped that the strange stone creature would vanish Hathorne from the world like it had so many others.

Of course, he would never be that lucky. Kel only just made it back to the road when Hathorne suddenly rushed past him. He was walking backwards and didn't say a word. As soon as he had both feet on the solid road, Hathorne turned and ran.

Kel immediately turned around and spotted the angel in the trees, its hands and wings raised in an aggressive stance and its teeth bared. Hathorne must have been onto something if he made it to the road without the creature getting to him, so Kel began to walk backwards. The angel didn't so much as twitch until a tree temporarily blocked it from view. In less than a second, it had moved several feet. Kel blinked, and it moved several more.

Hathorne was long gone by now, probably half way back to the horses, and Kel doubted that he had any intention of returning to help or leaving one of the horses behind. That was fine. Kel wasn't used to anyone taking care of him. He was used to surviving on his own.

He turned off his host's pain receptors, blocking out the pain from his various injuries, and kept walking. He wouldn't allow his host to properly blink, closing only one eye at a time on occasion, to avoid causing damage. The angel managed to creep closer every time a tree got between them, but it would have to come onto the open road if it wanted to get to him and there would be nothing to hide it from view then. Kel could walk backwards on an injured ankle, in the cold, not blinking until he made it all the way back to Bridget's tavern if he had to.

However long it took, Kel knew he would get out of those woods alive and John Hathorne would regret every drop of blood that touched the snow.