A/N: Hi everyone, hope you're taking care of yourselves out there. Thanks to everyone who reviewed last time! They're always fun to read. There are many things to come... hope you guys stick around to find out. Anyway, I hope that all my reviewers and those just following along enjoy this next chapter!

Chapter 6

They had been moving for a while now, and the cold light of dawn had been replaced by the lazy shadows of tree canopies. Shizuru had retrieved the map from the horse's pack and was now looking at it intently.

Jin had spoken earlier about a nearby sanctuary, and she searched for the location on the parchment. The city of Orran was a two day trip from where they were; if luck was on their side, they would be sleeping under a roof tonight. Her eyes stopped moving when they landed on a little marker, drawn in the shape of a flower encircled by a teardrop. Sure enough, the distance to this particular sanctuary was not too far away.

Finally, something to look forward to. Shizuru was no stranger to the abandoned buildings, having sought refuge in many during her past travels. She pondered for a moment, remembering the tales now told about them — how demons would lure travelers inside for a feast, or how crossing one meant being cursed with ill luck for a decade. I wonder, will Natsuki be afraid? She smiled to herself and put the map away in a pocket.

It was a rare thing for her to be so interested in another person, but the woman — or rather, her gift — had piqued Shizuru's fascination. She had seen others who had the gift of growing plants, but it was different; at most they could only force the growth of a bit of green — and those gifts had never worked with moonlits. In fact, Shizuru had never seen a moonlit react to any powers. That is, until Natsuki.

And oh, how she dearly wanted to see it again — so much so that she had tried to coax Natsuki twice, but was met only with the same cold silence. It was a strange thing; a few soft smiles and flattering words were often persuasive enough.

Well, Shizuru mused, sparing a glance at the figure on the horse. There's still time.

The two traveled in an almost comfortable silence until Shizuru spotted a series of three large stones. The surface of the rocks had nearly been taken over by vegetation — weeds and vines grew upon them, almost as if to choke each one. She brushed a hand over an exposed surface, feeling the indentations of letters etched long ago. They were the beginnings of a poem that she had once read as a child:

Here the worn find rested hours,
Paid with prayer and Eibin's flowers.

Shizuru smiled and retracted her hand. Sometime in the past, she knew, this would have been part of a gate. It meant that they were close then. She led the horse and the rider through a tight path behind the rock. The trees and plants grew wildly where they trekked, but the horse walked steadily, and it was only a matter of minutes until the foliage thinned to a carpet. The travelers stepped ahead.

In this reprieve of shallow grass stood a dark building strongly smelling of cedar. The roof was nearly flat, and like so many other sanctuaries, most of it had been reclaimed by the madness of nature. Moss and leaves covered the better part of the outside, but the walls held surprisingly strong still. The windows too, though broken, were mostly intact, and the stained glass images stood brightly against the grain of wood.

Shizuru let the reins go slack and absentmindedly moved to help the rider down. But before she could even offer a hand, Natsuki had already dismounted. Oh? Shizuru raised a brow at the woman and smiled. "Have you been practicing?"

Alas, the words were met only by silence.

I suppose I should get used to this, Shizuru thought, resigning herself. But to her surprise, she saw a glimpse of those green eyes on her.

"My other clothes… they were heavy."

"...I see."

Shizuru wanted to say more, but held her tongue. Natsuki's few words were more than anything she had said to her thus far, and she wasn't quite ready to face the cold again. So instead, she made her way to the front of the sanctuary.

What used to have been doors had long since disappeared; the wood had crumpled to the ground, creating an opening. Shizuru placed a hand on the side of the frame and stepped through. Her eyes wandered. This should be the hall.

Although small, she could tell that this particular sanctuary had been built with care. Faded carvings of delicate patterns covered the place, from the thick walls to the remains of empty seats, and there was a hint of blue within them — some sort of dye that had become washed out with age. The floor was a shade darker than the walls, colored by patches of moss and lichen, as well as the shimmer of images from the stained glass windows. At the far end of the hall stood a heavy, wooden altar surrounded by old cloth. This particular piece of furniture remained especially untouched, as if withstanding time.

Shizuru walked past the altar and cast a glance at the small, grimy trinkets that sat on top. If she had time later, she would come back to take a closer look. Feeling a bit more daring, she turned around.

"Natsuki, have you heard of sanctuaries?" Shizuru asked with a tilt of her head.

This time, she was met with a single nod of confirmation.

"So, you have heard of the stories, then… that evil now lurks in places like this." Red eyes looked up at the ceiling, staring through the cracks where the blue sky peeked through. After a moment, Shizuru looked back with a smile. "Well, I hope you don't mind if we stay here tonight?"

Unlike previously, Natsuki did not respond right away. She raised a hand to trace the top of a chair, moving her fingers from one length to another. When she reached the end, she uttered a short, dry, response. "No."

Hm. It seemed as if the woman wasn't scared after all. Shizuru kept her smile. She wasn't sure what she had expected, but either way, it wasn't worth thinking about. "Very well then."

Moving once more, Shizuru headed through a door behind the altar, which led to a hallway with various rooms on both sides. She passed by each one, glancing in, before stopping at the doorway on the farthest end.

This will have to do, she thought, entering. This room, like much of the building, was small. There were two cots tucked against the walls, and the linens — sullied by dust and dirt — were relatively unscathed by the elements. Against a corner sat a small desk, covered with papers and weathered books.

Shizuru lifted the sheets off the two cots, revealing cleaner mats beneath, and dropped the cloth to the floor. Much better.

"We'll be staying here tonight," Shizuru said, turning toward Natsuki, who had stopped at the door to watch.

At the words, Natsuki slowly wandered in, pausing only when the tip of her foot met an object sitting on the floor. Two pairs of eyes glanced down at the same time. The item was the cover of a book — the pages had long since been ripped out — and Natsuki picked it up.

On the cover was a muddled image of a creature, painted entirely black. Its hands and feet were drawn into giant claws, and on its back was a winding mane of grass and flowers. The only features on its face was a pair of white dots for eyes.

"It's a Flower Eater," Shizuru said. She walked to Natsuki's side and glanced at the picture from behind the woman's shoulder. "Have you heard of it before?"

Natsuki shook her head and took a step away. Her eyes were focused on those white dots, and she peeled them away before speaking. "...What is it?"

Shizuru smiled. "Well, it comes from a children's tale. Though, not a very common one." She stepped toward one of the cots and sat down, watching the ripples that formed under the cloth. Flower Eater. It had been a while since she had even said those words — the book was banned from the Head Sanctuary only a year after she had read the tale. Too sad of a story, she supposed.

Shizuru turned back to Natsuki. "Would you like to hear it?"

As if in confirmation, the dark-haired woman quietly took a seat on the other cot.

"Let's see…" Shizuru placed a hand on her chin, thinking.

"As the tale goes, it all began when Eibin had shed his first drop of blood while creating the rocky shores of a lake.

It was so cold that when the droplet hit the water's surface, it seeped down, down, down into the warmth of the liquid until it could not move any further. And it hid there at the bottom, growing like a child in a womb.

When the plants started to grow and the sun began to shine, the creature opened its eyes for the first time. From the dark, it sought out the light, and so it swam its way out from below.

Having not eaten, it was so very hungry. Instinctively, when the creature saw the moonlits, it dug them up and gobbled them whole. Once full, the creature began to roam.

In its travels, the creature had tried to eat many things, but only the moonlits could fill its stomach and keep it alive. And unknowingly, as the creature plucked and plucked the flowers, the land began to suffer. What used to be green started to decay.

When humans found this creature and saw it eating the moonlits, they became angry. They blamed the creature as the source of their suffering, and they set up plans to hunt and kill it. But that creature had no choice — wasn't it also just trying to survive?

Everywhere the creature went, it was chased away with pitchforks and fire. And when it slept, it dreamed of wrath and scorn. The creature turned the anger and agony within, and it began to hate itself.

After a long time of suffering, the creature went back to the lake from where it was born. It swam into the water, and with its giant claws it ripped itself open. As it died, its blood, as black as ink, seeped into the water.

At this, moonlits began to sprout around the lake, as if all the flowers the creature had eaten had now been reborn. And the creature sunk back down into the depths of the water, back to the warmth below."

Shizuru shifted on the cot, and gave Natsuki an amused look. "Well, from what I remember, I believe that's the ending… a bit tragic, isn't it?"

For a brief moment, Natsuki looked up at her with an unknown expression on her face. She didn't answer, and dropped her eyes back to the picture, studying it intently.

Well, well. Taking that as a sign that there would be no further talk, Shizuru quietly stood and left the room, making her way back to the forest outside.

As she expected, the horse was still nearby, and Shizuru only spared it a glance before heading to the back of the building. Earlier when they first arrived, she had seen the top of a stone structure — with luck it would be what she had hoped.

Ah, there it is, she thought, looking at the remains of a fountain. Every sanctuary had something of the sort; it acted almost like a wishing well, and she sat at the edge of it, dipping her fingers into the shallow water. It was warm.

Shizuru pulled up the sleeve of her left arm. The skin beneath it was blackened with a hint of angry red, as if it had been set afire and rubbed with soot. With her other hand, she scooped some water upon it, letting the droplets trickle down. That's better.

To the scorned, the pain and ache of charred skin — the burning, as they called it — was a daily occurrence. Fortunately, the one afflicting her had been slow to spread — but it had made its way up to the base of her shoulder now. She had to be more careful when using her gift to kill.

Well, perhaps it doesn't matter, Shizuru thought. She wasn't quite sure why she resisted so much; it was inevitable that one day she would end up like the rest of the scorned — blinded and dead. But maybe, just maybe, somewhere inside she was afraid — afraid of the judgment she would see in Eibin's eyes before the dark took her.

Shizuru stilled, her eyes dropping to the floor. When the last of the droplets slid off her skin, she submerged her arm in the water.

By the time Shizuru made her way back to the room, it was late. The cover of the book was on the desk, and Natsuki was lying on her side in the bed, facing the wall. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was light and regular.

Without a sound, Shizuru laid down on the empty cot and stared up at the splattered hints of growing moss on the ceiling. It had been a long time since she had slept with someone in the same room, and the feeling was strange and uncomfortable. Fortunately, the sound of quiet breaths was soothing, and she found herself drifting off.

In her sleep, she dreamt of the Flower Eater, and the look in its eyes as it drifted away, down into the depths of the lake.

It was dark.

Shizuru had woken up earlier, disturbed by the sound of the wind clinking against broken glass. As with every similar occasion, she had been unable to fall back asleep, and had been listening to the sound of crickets chirping, hoping it would lull her back to a slumber. When it was clear that it wouldn't, she sat up quietly. She could hear the slow, near silent breathing of Natsuki close by; the woman was still sleeping.

Feeling a little restless, Shizuru got onto her feet and left the room. Shadows danced around her like smoke over drenched coals, and her silent footsteps fell, step by step, until she reached the sanctuary's hall. The room was bright enough for a person to see — not too clearly, but enough to not be stumbling in the dark. The moonlight shimmered through the stained glass windows, casting strange colors against the rows of empty seats.

Shizuru made her way up to the altar and touched two fingers against the cedar surface. Sure enough, a coat of grime settled on her fingertips, and she rubbed it off gently. It had been probably at least a decade since anyone had given the place care, and it was in need of a good cleaning.

How lucky you are, she thought, looking down at the carved wood. She picked up a piece of cloth from the base of the altar and began the meticulous task of wiping the wood surface, including all the items scattered on top of it. Once she had finished, she had not only polished the altar, but a series of nine brass bells. They were lined up in a row with their handles up, from smallest to largest.

Shizuru picked up the smallest bell. Knowing the sound shouldn't be too loud, she rang it lightly. The bell called out, high and clear, like the sound of raindrops chiming against metal. In her mind, the room flashed into a memory of white walls and sunlight; the air was warm, and the soft sounds of birds fluttered near the windows. Shizuru set the bell down, smiling. The memory faded back into the dark. How nostalgic.

There was the sound of a creak, and the woman stilled then, noticing that she was no longer alone. At the back doorway of the hall, a figure leaned against the side of the frame. Shizuru could make out a pair of light eyes watching her casually.

"Natsuki," she greeted amiably. "Did I wake you?"

The dark-haired woman shook her head in response and made her way to the altar. Once in front, she crossed her arms and looked down at the little instruments.

"Curious?" Shizuru asked, gently picking up another bell. She noticed those green eyes following the movement, and she smiled. "They're called Greeting Bells. In the past, when a sanctuary opened its doors, they would use them to play a welcoming song."

Shizuru picked up another bell with her free hand, rotating it. "Every combination of bells had a different meaning, and they would ring them to describe each person entering the hall. Let's see — for Natsuki, it would be..." She exchanged one of the bells in her hands for another, and rang them both at the same time. A mix of low and high chiming filled the air. The bells were rung thrice. "It means newcomer," Shizuru said, giving Natsuki another small smile. "Pretty, isn't it?"

It took a moment for Natsuki to answer, and when she did, she nodded in acquiesce. Both parties had gone silent, and the dark-haired woman moved to one of the seats, brushed it off, and sat down with her arms still crossed. Her eyes had moved to stare at the stained glass windows above.

Shizuru followed her gaze. The image created from the glass, although broken, could easily be guessed as Eibin. He was sitting on the ground with a moonlit in his hand, and a single tear was running down his face. The image reminded Shizuru of a hymn they would play at the Head Sanctuary — an ode to the Mother. It was a song that, every so often, her cousin and the other Voices would play for the children to calm their nerves.

Shizuru picked up a few of the bells and rang them gently — alone and in combinations — one after the other. The song that played was light and soft, echoing wistfully against the walls, and sang of hardship and love. To most who had the chance to hear it, it sounded like a mother's humming — a lullaby.

When the song ended, Shizuru placed the bells down without a sound. Natsuki had turned her face toward the dark, and those green eyes shimmered wetly in the moonlight as if to mourn.