Hello.  Yes it has been a while, and yes I am sorry.  It's been a little hard with all the school work that gets flung in my general direction.  But regardless here it is. For those of you who have given me your opinion, than you very much and I hope you enjoy this next part.  Also I am aware that the chapter 2 title is right after this sentence but for some unknown reason I cannot fix that so I offer my apologies for that. Chapter 2: Interesting Outcomes

The inn-keeper was becoming awfully close to being mortally wounded as far as Liare was concerned.  He had dug up some nuggets from one of his many large yet empty pockets and presented them roughly to the bald-fat man, as he described him, only to have the man refuse him a room.  The keeper took one look at Liare's sword and exclaimed that fighters weren't welcome in his inn.

Liare tried to assure him coolly that he was not a fighter, but a wanderer, but that had yet help him obtain his goal.  Apparently few were welcome in this measly town where they all ran around like the children they were.  He had a couple centuries on them at least, forever frozen at his age of eighteen, the age that he was so devastated that he shocked himself to stop aging, another painful reminder of that time.

He shook his head, what happened had happened, it was over, gone, done with.  But it would forever haunt him he knew, but that did not mean he had to dwell on it at this time, no it would come to him in his dreams, nightmares of copper and crimson. 

Glaring up at the in-keeper he said barely containing his anger, "All I would like is to have a room for a couple of nights.  I can guarantee the lives of your other customers will come to no harm." 

"How can I be sure that you will stand by that?  You walked in here holding your sword, and you forgot to even clean any blood off of it."

Why didn't he just kill the guy and get on with it, a part of Liare wondered, this was stupid, he even vowed to keep his deathly hands away from the other measly low-life's who dwelled within this dump, despite his tendency to not care for any life at all.  But he came here to try and live some sort of isolate life, ending his painful wandering, and he couldn't do that if he kept killing everyone who resided within the town.  Some would be needed for trading resources, and most importantly, for food.

So instead of impaling the man before him with the closest pole, he just narrowed his eyes and walked out of the inn.  He could hear from outside within the street, how the inn-keeper exhaled in relief, Liare gritted his teeth and continued.

About a couple of steps away from the inn, he heard someone whimper from very far away.  Automatically his mind sent out signals to obtain knowledge of the owner of the whimper, probing around the alleys and streets.  What he got back was the impression of an elderly woman of seventy, very odd for this town's life-style, who was very scared, and in pain.  He felt how she never had harmed a soul; she was the owner of the spell shop around the corner, lived her life alone and lonely, and was an outcast.  The last bit he got was that she was behind him, within a small street off to the side of the market.

Liare ran towards the weak signals that he could barely hold on to.  While he ran he gathered more information from inside her mind, he knew where she lived, who was her enemies, and most importantly, that she was a witch.  She had no circle, since she was ignorant to the outside world and their groups; she knew of her powers but did not know of her origin.

He made it to the street in time to see a couple of thieves prodding the old woman with daggers and short swords.  She cowered against the wall of a house and was whispering prayers.  She was so scared and from what he gathered she did nothing to deserve this treatment.

"Hey you there," he shouted, "Step away from that lady."

One thief, he guessed as the leader, stepped forward and sad, "This here is no lady, she's a demon spawn come here to enchant all of us damning us to satin.  You best be on your way stranger, before harm comes to you."

"I will not allow you to continue to terrorize her.  She did nothing."

"This 'lady' as you call her, set my father's farm on fire.  It devastated our family so much that he committed suicide.  Tell me that's 'nothing'."

Liare scanned through the lady's memories to find what he needed.  Sneering at the clumsy fool he exclaimed, "Your father had killed her husband.  All because he wouldn't sell his lot to your father who was so greedy with his money that he tried to obtain the lot to mine for gold which was rumoured to be there.  Destroying a measly farm was pitiful compared to what he should've suffered.  It is not her fault he couldn't live without his precious money."

"How did you…" He looked horrified.  Stumbling on his words he suddenly held his small sword up in front of Liare's face and threatened, "You are a demon sent by her aren't you?  Leave now or die."

Liare had been waiting for the threat.  It proved to him that whatever happened to the threatener, they deserved it.  He used his quick reflexes as he gathered his sword and threw it at the thief.  Spinning in the air, the broad sword collided with the man and cleanly sliced off the hand holding the pointed sword. 

This occurred just long enough for the smile to drop way from the thief's face, replaced by horror and pain.  He clutched at his remaining ligament and suddenly just forgot about his sword and threat, and ran.  His gang looked at each other scared, and swiftly followed their leader.  

Sighing at the small exertion that the stunt caused him, he gathered his sword, wiped it on his shirt, and put it away.  He looked over towards the old woman and saw amazement in her eyes.  Not fear, not disgust, not pity, but amaze and gratefulness.  She gathered her shawl that had fallen off, and slowly walked up to him.  Grinning she came up to him and gave him a huge hug.

Surprised and unsure of what to do he stood there.  He wasn't use to this treatment, why wasn't she running away screaming?  Where was the shame in her eyes for the blood spill?  He was too confused.

Almost like she could read his mind she said, "It's alright.  Thank you I don't know if I could ever repay you for what you did for me.  You're a very honourable person.  Is there anything that I could do to help you?"

Still stunned he mentioned his lack of shelter.

"That's wonderful, you can stay with me.  I have a three bedroom house left to me by my husband, and that is too much space for a dotty old woman like me to keep to herself.  Just please don't mind the cat, he's a rather odd creature and very picky about people.  But I have plenty of food and water, extra clothes from my son; he was your size…"

How convenient, Liare thought sarcastically, but it was a place to lodge, possibly for longer than he expected.  Plus by the memories he had sorted through from her, it had a forest, and plenty of thieves within it that he could use for a meal or two.

            Upon entering the petite shack he was surprised to find it much larger than it appeared from the outside.  It had been a small one-story, straw-covered cottage that seemed to be placed within a vast forest which enclosed itself around it.  It looked to have only enough space for one room, let alone enough breathing space for both him and the elderly woman.  But as he stood within the entryway he silently marvelled at the deceptiveness of the inner holdings; not a flicker of change upon his face.

            The entryway widened immensely into a hefty sized dinning room, just left to the kitchen settled within the back quarters.  It proved not to be one story but two, most likely containing two of the three rooms.  To the right of the kitchen stood the third, a small room open to the air through the tall door, bare except for a large made wooden bed pumped full of pillows, a dresser and a chest at the foot of the bed.  All furnishings were made of beech wood, which surprised him further since his traveling had shown that beech trees grew far from this land. 

            The lady, who he had come to know as Olendalyn, whisked past him muttering something about the illusion spells holding up, and entered the small room.  A small ruckus could be heard slightly but the sight evaded him just beyond the room's outer wall.  He heard a crash, a wail, and a small thump as something dropped to the ground.

            Olendalyn emerged a moment later holding a large tabby cat in her arms, most likely the cause of the noise, the cat looking annoyed and slightly droopy from sleeping. 

She dropped the feline to the floor and said, "This scruff of laziness would be known as Scruffiness.  Now you two become acquainted while I just clean up."

            With that she smiled immensely and disappeared once again into the room and shut the door.

            Liare stood there glaring at the small animal who sat equally glaring up at him.  He couldn't believe he was just standing there, he should have just ordered the inn keeper to give him a room, force him.  Deciding that he liked that outcome better than staring at a cat, he turned to head out the door.

            Idiot vampire

            Liare stopped.  The voice within his head had rung loud and true, forming the colour of a dark forest green within his mind.  It rang of masculine arrogance intertwining with amusement. 

He looked back around the room, no one was present.  But he knew that the voice had not been his imagination, traces of the vibrations still rang through him, slowly draining away with the constant flow of his own thoughts.  Deciding this had to have come from nearby he sent out a mind signal, tracing all life vibrations within mind telepathy.

He found nothing.

Slowly his gaze rested on the cat.  Looking back up at Liare, Scruffiness twitched his nose slightly; amusement was held within its actions.

You? 

The thought had been sent directly to the cat, disbelief evident within the call.

And who else would know?

The cat did not say it, but Liare knew he meant the knowledge of him being a vampire, a race not meant to exist in the first place, only created by a maniac witch seeking to become immortal at great costs.  The fact this feline knew only annoyed Liare further.

So, the witch has a shape shifter as a pet?

            He found it hard to keep his telepathy cold while talking to the shifter; it showed what was truly inside, leaked out your thoughts and feelings.  He had thought he had killed most of his feelings long ago, but the pain and remorse was like a giant wave trying to escape from behind his mind shields.  The shifter did not seem to notice, or, did not care.

            We're as good a pet as any.  You have anything against shape shifters?  I know I have many thoughts of Vampires, not all very nice.

            The cat did not try to hide the hatred that poured through the link.  It was not directed to him as much as it was to his race.  He did not blame the cat for hating him for that for had seen the many things his kind had inflicted upon those lesser than them.  Not that he disagreed with their intentions, but then again, he didn't agree either.  Caring was only given to those with souls.

            I understand where you come from.

            Liare sent back quietly, the sharp tone never ceasing.

            The cat peered curiously up at him, I don't understand you.  You're a vampire, therefore, should've killed me by now just for living, yet you seem to not have the nature of your kind.

            I lost any nature long ago and wish not to speak of it; he did not let his anger seep out, and what of your nature?  I am sure I have seen very few shape shifters as pets now-a-days, or at all.

            I have my reasons, the cat answered, licking his paw to scrub behind his ear with it.

            Does Olendalyn know of your "nature"?  He asked.

            No and it stays that way.  Scruffiness had stopped his cleansing and glared furiously up at Liare, daring him to do otherwise but promising a great payment if he did.

            You can relax. I care not of what your business is, as long as you don't get into mine. 

            Agreed.

            I do have one question though.

            Oh really?

            Scruffiness?

            Don't ask

            Too late

            She knows nothing of me so to her I am her pet, and usually with pets and owners, the owner's name them.

            What is your real name?

            Now that I hold as my own personal information.

            Fine.

            Liare did not wish to push the subject, he had grown tired of the conversation long ago, and so he saw it befitting to end it before the cat decided he wanted to become attached to him.  He knew that if that ever happened, the cat would be gone.

Within the next moment Olendalyn had appeared from the room and hustled him in, claiming the room was ready and that he needed sleep.  Figuring this would be a great time to slip through the window to feed, he did not argue with her.

~Please let me know what you thought R/R~

~Thanks~