Chapter Severn: Don't Look Back

The sky was just beginning to fill with the rosy light of dawn when Oscar finally mustered the courage to leave. Ozpin had remained mercifully silent throughout the night, allowing Oscar eight blessed hours of sleep uninterrupted by the turbulent memories of past lives. He suspected that Ozpin wanted him to be well rested for the journey.

Outside the barn, Oscar glanced back. The sun was rising on the horizon, painting the fields orange and colouring the barn roof in warm yellow, gold and red tones. It tugged at him and for a moment he was suspended, balancing on a knife edge. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head slightly and turned back to the road in front of him. One foot in front of the other, he told himself, walking slowly into the unknown.

When they were out of sight of the farm, Ozpin spoke. "I'm sorry."

"You know, the weirdest part is how it feels." Oscar looked down at the muddy road. "Leaving home is crazy. Going to the city is crazy. Everything you've told me is completely crazy. But it doesn't feel crazy anymore - it feels like I'm doing the right thing."

"Well, I suppose that's good."

"No. It's scary." His voice seemed very small, swamped by the tall dark forest around him. In the distance, thunder rumbled, and he quickened his pace.

By the time Oscar reached Havashi, the storm had broken and the sky was dark, on the edge of twilight. He'd visited the small village dozens of times before, but it looked unfamiliar in the driving rain. He backed up against a tree on the outskirts, scanning the buildings.

"This is the only village within three day's walk of the train station." He muttered, hugging his shivering shoulders. "We can stay the night here."

"Is there an inn?"

"Not exactly." He narrowed his eyes as a figure ran down the street and disappeared into a building, pushing back against the tree.

"What do you mean?"

Oscar pointed to where the figure had gone. "That brewery is one of three places within 200 miles that makes and sells alcohol. Dean stopped a pack of Grim wrecking this place a few days ago, which means he would have spent the next twenty-four hours 'celebrating'."

"Right."

"Which means he's spent a lot of money. Hopefully he mentioned me, and I can talk my way into sleeping somewhere dry tonight."

"Then why are we still standing in the rain?"

Oscar stared at the ground. A raindrop fell from a strand of his already drenched hair and splattered on the thin grass below his scuffed boots.

"When I was eight..." He turned his head to the side, eyes screwed shut. "Can't you just read my mind?" He pleaded to Ozpin. "I can't..." He fell silent.

"Not for this. You need to choose to tell me."

Oscar took a deep breath and placed a hand on the tree to steady himself.

"It wasn't the first time I'd pissed him off so much he hit me, but it was the first time he used a bottle. I was scared, so I just ran. All the way to Havashi. I passed out in front of one of those houses."

"I'm sorry."

"That's not even the worst bit." A bitter, sarcastic tone twisted his words. "After he'd finished nursing his hangover, he came looking for me. I..." He fell silent.

"He found you?"

"Yeah."

"You're wondering if it's safe to go in because they know Dean and they might tell him where you are?"

"I can't risk him finding me again." Oscar hugged his arms tighter around himself.

"Perhaps it would be best to stay out of sight."

Behind the brewery, a small covered area sheltered a stack of straw bales. With a vaguely dubious look on his face, Oscar crawled behind them, pulling his backpack in after himself.

"You're going to sleep here?"

"You said stay out of sight. This qualifies." He tried to make a comfortable bed with the scraps of straw littering the ground. Internally, Oscar cursed his lack of warm clothing as the winds picked up.

"I admire your tenacity but you can't sleep out here, not in this weather."

"I can't risk Dean finding me either."

"I'll protect you."

"You are literally the voice in my head! How can you protect me?"

"You would be surprised."

A chill ran down Oscar's spine. Brow furrowed, he dug deeper into the pile of straw. A savage gust of wind snatched away a bale of straw and left him exposed to the biting rain. He groaned.

"Okay you win! I'll go inside!"

Oscar grabbed his backpack and sprinted for the back door of the brewery. He tried the handle. It was unlocked, and he slipped quietly inside.

Oscar found himself in a tiny kitchen, pots and bottles strewn everywhere. A couple of candles sat in the window, burning brightly. A half open cupboard caught his eye. Food. Ignoring the grumbles of his conscience, he shoved a loaf of bread and some cured meats and cheeses into his backpack.

"That's not yours." Ozpin sounded amused.

"I'm sure they won't mind." Grabbing a hand towel from the counter, he quickly dried himself off. His clothes were soaked, so he quickly slipped out of his sodden boots and shirt, draping them over one arm. Glancing furtively around, he crept towards the door to the bar room. He pressed his ear to the wood. Silence. Cautiously, he inched the door open and stepped inside. The room was dark and gloomy, lit only by a small candle on one of the tables. He collapsed onto an old battered sofa that sat in the corner, pulling a dry change of clothes out of his backpack. After changing, he laid his wet clothes over the back of a chair.

"I'll probably wake up before anyone comes down here." He reasoned, curling up on the sofa.

"Goodnight Oscar. "

"Goodnight..." Oscar mumbled, eyes sliding closed.