AN: And now to do something totally unexpected. We switch over to Howl's point of view and see HIS take on recent events! Oh joy! (You can understand why this chapter took some time…)

Disclaimer: Refer to the first…oh forget it. None of you will ever learn.

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Chapter Three

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Howell Jenkins was a romantic at heart.

Even though he was generally seen as a rather self-absorbed Casanova, he couldn't imagine why, he cared enough about his latest love interest to take his time starting an inquiry. He did not simply move from woman to woman because he enjoyed it—that would be the furthest thing from the truth—he took a genuine interest in the mind of each and every woman he encountered. The human heart was a fickle thing: Wizard Howl always stuck with a love interest until he was thoroughly sure the quarry was in love with him.

And when that happened, the game simply came to an end. Howell Jenkins loved games. That's why he would move on, for a same game, to him, had no point in being revisited. Every woman presented a new reason and a different ending. Once he was done playing with one particular game, he would move on to a (preferably) different game.

This did not make him hasty. On the contrary, he waited and waited until he was done exploring every aspect of the game. Even if he foresaw a certain ending, he stuck it out and stubbornly waited till he was sure there was nothing left to be explored.

It was a shock, then, to find himself pursuing a relatively archetypical prey.

You see, a week before the start of this story, he had set his eyes on a very enchanting figure: Lettie Hatter. She was known for her curious beauty and her fierce determination. However, because she was so very popular in Market Chipping, she was always amidst the throng of admirers and devoted followers. This meant she had limited time for herself.

And the Wizard Howl was not about to lower himself, and become one of Lettie's many amateur followers, just to win her attention.

"Howl."

It was around 7 in the morning, the sun just having risen from the eastern mountains, when his young apprentice entered through the door from Kingsbury.

"The messenger left two letters from the King. And I think one of them is an invitation…"

"To the Prince's Ball," Howl smiled knowingly. "Yes, I was expecting that."

"Then you're going?" A small fire slithered over the new firewood Howl had dropped minutes earlier on the blackened hearth. Two large pupils dilated as if awakening from a nap, and a black gap acting as the fire's mouth widened as it yawned, raising two small, fragile fists in the air in a nice long stretch. "Are you going to invite your latest love interest along?"

"You shouldn't," the apprentice interjected, just as Howl was about to respond. "You know the Witch of the Waste is after you. And speaking of the Witch, the second letter is about the reward…"

"The Most Wanted poster?" the fire laughed heartily. "Of course, the King's very interested in her. He'd naturally call for Howl's hand, just like when he needed Howl's hand in dealing with High Norland—"

"My, my," Howl stood up from his stool, having heard enough. "You're quite energetic today. You've been rolling in the ashes again, haven't you?"

"I wouldn't if you'd just clean the hearth!"

Howl took his extravagant overcoat off the coat hanger as he moved to the door. "I'm needed at Market Chipping. Try not to burn the chimney down, Calcifer. Oh," he paused as he passed his apprentice. "There's the matter of our customers' tab…"

His apprentice nodded. "I know. I have it covered."

"Hey," Calcifer glared. "You're ignoring me, aren't—"

"Off to the Market." Howl quickly hopped to the door and turned the doorknob, the dials turning in sync. Calcifer's protests fell on deaf ears as Howl opened the door, breathed in the fresh air, and promptly closed the door behind him.

Howl looked around and observed several men accosting the same woman at once. He watched the street performers joyously entertain the ladies and rebellious soldiers leave their posts to flirt with maidens huddled near a Café. This all meant one thing: today was May Day. Howl smiled. He had not pampered himself to be overlooked. It was time to find a damsel.

He did need a date for the Ball, after all.

His new strawberry blonde hair shimmered along with his most flamboyant overcoat as he all but declared himself to the crowd. Something he did not elude was attention—both positive and negative. His presence alone usually stirred unrest amongst the most proper of adults. Howl's magnificent appearance did not, however, come naturally. Beauty came with hard work; something that vexed him to this day.

Having caught the eyes of a group of young lasses, he gifted them with the most dazzling of smiles. His unearthly charms weakened their knees and many of them fanned their faces as he passed, his smile very much engraved in their dazed little eyes. Yet…even though Howl enjoyed attention, often times he found himself having to question his once everlasting reservoir of patience. For the past few years he began to tolerate less and less, sometimes finding annoyance in things he had been capable of withstanding in his high school days.

It was the vengeful backlash of his discarded past.

Realizing his smile was becoming strained, and furthermore pretentious, Howl quickly turned a corner and sauntered into a rather ominous alleyway, intent on leaving the noise behind him. He came to regret his action the moment he came upon a soldier taking a smoking break. Howl disliked the smell of smoke; one of the many reasons why he never cleaned Calcifer's hearth. Disregarding the soldier, Howl jaunted past the smoke, the shabby bars, the broken-down saloons, and the shoddy taverns.

"You're very pretty."

Howl did a double take when he nearly walked past a narrow backstreet. It was hardly a scuffle; two soldiers had left their posts and were currently busy attempting, and failing, to accost a very attractive maiden. Howl backtracked and examined the girl closely from around the corner. She was very pretty indeed. Her ginger hair was plaited in a pauper's braid, yet, even from behind her back, her tacky sense of fashion could not hide her delicate face. Her petite frame made her all the more adorable. Yes, she wasn't eye-catching or magnetizing as his latest interest (Lettie) but there was something about her that stood out… not quite ordinary, but not quite remarkable.

Something familiar, something mysterious…

Ah, I see, Howl thought, cleverly. A game of contradictions. Splendid! I do love a good challenge. Let's take a look at that face, first.

And, luck would have it, this particular damsel was, in fact, the most appealing damsel there was; a damsel-in-distress. Howl softly marched up to the three, elegantly gliding over the pavement with practiced ease. When he reached her side he comfortably rested his left arm around her small shoulders. He inwardly smiled as he caressed the fabric of her dress. She had worn such gray garments to hide her petite frame…for shame!

"There you are honey," he started, coating his already melodious voice with sugar and nectar. "I've been looking all over for you."

They were surprised, to say the least… and the soldiers, it seemed, did not want to lose their rightful bounty to a passing stranger.

Howl was amused. The soldiers had the nerve to threaten him, the Wizard Howl? Of course, with utmost ease he shooed them away. After quickly making sure the soldiers strutted all the way back to their posts—and stayed in their posts—Howl managed to steal a peek at his prize. He was delighted to see that he was correct. As he considered himself a connoisseur in womanly beauty, his pride justly swelled when he found his new company to possess just that.

"Now," he said. "Where were you headed?"

"To…to Cesari's…" She closed her lips with uncertainty. It was hard to deny how much cuter she was when frightened, almost like a timid field mouse. Now if he could only bring out her true character…

Without hesitation Howl pulled her closer and started forward. But just in case she decided to refuse, he placed a little "encouragement" on her… something that would subtly push her onward, though he doubted she had enough courage to refuse him. She seemed too polite to do anything improper.

Too polite for her own good. We'll have to do something about that, now won't we?

In retrospect, Howl could admit he had been a little pushy in practically forcing a meek, young lady into accompanying a total stranger—albeit a handsome stranger. Still, he never meant any harm, and it had been he who had rescued her from the two perverted soldiers, so Howl thought he could be forgiven. Besides, he was simply quenching his curiosity.

He directed his lady-friend through the crowd like a true gentleman, weaving and bypassing the rowdiest bodies. It was pure luck, upon arriving at Cesari's, to find Lettie had taken a day off. It certainly would've been awkward to nab the attention of his interest, if today had been different from his past attempts, while dining with his unexpected companion.

It was strange to watch the girl perk at his request of "two cream cakes and a glass of lemonade". He wondered how malnourished she truly was and how much of her baggy dress hid her body.

The moment the orders arrived he looked up and began carefully examining the field mouse, the mouse in question completely engrossed in her food. Her complexion was sickly pale, and he found two unflattering bags under her lovely walnut eyes. It was a disgrace to see such natural beauty go to waste… he wondered what reasons she had for staying up so late into the night (for it was painfully obvious she was doing so).

He left Cesari's with more questions than answers. Fortunately, he had been given the opportunity to demonstrate his generosity by sacrificing his breakfast to satiate the mouse (though he did not have any appetite to begin with). As the two left the shop, Howl placed a different spell on the field mouse, this time tactfully leading her to her desired destination, in turn leading him to wherever she was heading for.

Howl, trying to make her more comfortable, started a conversation, though in truth he wasn't paying much attention. While he mindlessly asked his questions he was secretly trying to piece all her answers into a life story. She lived alone, which meant she was used to an independent lifestyle; she reacted very calmly when he mentioned the Witch, which meant she was familiar with his reputation.

When she came to a stop everything seemed to click. He looked at the backdoor of the Hatters' shop, realizing who this field mouse was. He had seen her before, granted in meager glances, toiling in the backroom with her needles and bonnets as if they were the only things that mattered in her gloomy life. He had first heard of the Hatters last May Day, when the two exquisite Hatter sisters were finally allowed to roam the streets unattended in their breathtaking gowns. The talks of another Hatter girl, the talented needle-worker, never interested anyone. Not even Howl.

Until now.

"Well, thank you for keeping me company," he said, intentionally sliding his hand down her one arm. "I enjoyed our breakfast."

He bent down and left a lingering kiss on the back of her hand. Satisfied, he stood up and grinned.

"I hope you will accompany me for dinner tonight."

Howl found her mild, quiet protests to be entertaining… and also very cute. He was right to call her a field mouse; she barely squeaked. He waved his hand and made another comment about magic, which promptly silenced the mouse.

Her innocent mind made the game all the more delightful.

"I'll see you at eight, on the dot. That's when you get off your shift, isn't it?" Knowing the answer, as it was common around Market Chipping for the shops to close at eight, Howl left her side, a small smile dancing on his lips.

The mysterious Sophie Hatter.

What an intriguing game!