I'll wait the signs to come
I'll find a way
I'll will wait the time to come
I'll find a way home
Chapter 4: Signs to Come
Seifer woke up with a deep muscle pain at the back of his neck. His head was craned around at an odd angle and his mouth was hanging open, drool dripping onto his pillow. He never ceased to be shocked every morning at what a completely unattractive sleeper he was. Even in his present pitiable state of being, his method of rest was somehow unsettling. Once upon a time, he'd backed his Garden roommate into a corner and threatened him with bodily harm to keep his drooling and tossing a tightly guarded secret. He was positive that it had never gotten out, but it bothered him all the same.
He spent the first hour of his morning, as usual, in a sleep induced daze. He managed to tie his boots only out of rote memory, pausing between feet to rub his eyes with his fists.
The day greeted him with a frosty chill. He puffed out a long breath and watched it casually float away, his heels rocking against the frozen cement of his front porch. His plan for the day had not yet been formed, as his presence of mind during the night wasn't always the best. But, as he looked up and down the street for somewhere to start on all the things he had to accomplish, lady luck paid him an uncharacteristic visit.
Coming down the street, wrapped in a black and gold Balamb Garden winter coat, was the blonde pseudo-Quistis SeeD who had arrived the other morning. Ducking back against his house, he watched her approach and weighed his options. He could try and talk to her and pray to God that she somehow wouldn't recognize him. He looked different than he had back at Garden, even different than he had during the deepest and darkest parts of the war. His scar had faded from the irritated blazing red it had once been to an almost benign looking white line. Stubble covered his jaw and the fire crosses on his coat had long since fallen off. In fact, his trench coat was in complete tatters and he kept it only for sentimental reasons (he hardly ever wore it any longer).
Still, the chance that she might recognize him was a risk he wasn't quite willing to take. Surprise was the only thing that he had on his side. They didn't know what was really going on, and that gave him a region of safety to move around in. They weren't looking for him, and he planned to roam about in the shadows for as long as possible. Inevitably they would find out about him -- they always did.
That was the story of his life.
Everywhere that Seifer went he slowly managed to build a life for himself. He would find a job, a house, and sometimes he even found companionship. He'd even had a girlfriend once. There were times when he thought that maybe he'd finally found a place to call home. But his past always reared it's ugly head, and at those times it was always easier to run away. Sometimes he ran so he wouldn't have to hurt someone, and sometimes he ran because he already had. Only now, he was beginning to run out of places to hide.
Ekalaka was still safe. Nothing untoward, as far as he could remember, had happened there because of him.
At least, not yet.
The blonde SeeD meandered past his house looking as if she had no real destination in mind. Her neck craned as she peered around and behind her, although her eyes brushed off of Seifer as if he were insignificant. Another staring person in a town of nosey country people. That little aspect was certainly to his advantage.
Now all he had to do was make sure that they didn't find out the truth. No matter what happened, he had to keep them from figuring out what was really going on in Trabia.
Seifer waited for the woman's figure to disappear around a corner before setting off toward the street. His boots felt heavy and cold, but a relatively new coat was wrapped warmly around his shoulders. The fur lining held heat close to his body, and the sleeves extended halfway down his hand so that his wrists were never let out into the frosty chill. He'd had reservations about finally leaving behind his old trench coat, but the drafty material had finally out done him when winter came.
Feels like I've been here forever, he thought.
Walking at a brisk pace up the street, he didn't notice the shadows following close behind him. They were silent and weaved through the town's tapestry like just another insignificant thread. He was familiar with them, but only in another sense. He had no idea they were with him as he stepped confidently into the general store, swinging open the door so that a bell chimed above his head.
"Morning," a little man popped up behind the counter.
"Good morning, Petey," Seifer replied, waving. "Was wondering if you still had that job open for me."
Petey owned and ran the general store, although it was a mystery how he had obtained any of it. He was by far one of the laziest men Seifer had ever met. Often he made up crack pot excuses not to come in to work, making one of his employees pick up the slack. He was also diabetic, though he vehemently denied it and continued to drink heavily. His demeanor was counteracted by his oddly gaunt appearance. Although he had the characteristic beer belly of a middle aged man who did nothing but sit all day, all of his limbs and most of the rest of his torso was terribly thin. He wasn't an easy man to work for, and he almost always had positions open.
Petey looked at him and shrugged. "I don't have the one you want open anymore." He eyed him through golden wire rimmed glasses. "But I do have something open."
"You got a new stock boy?" Seifer was surprised.
"Stock girl, actually," he replied, grinning in a way that made Seifer a little uneasy. "But, it's winter and it gets cold enough in here to freeze off my damn balls anymore. I need someone to cut wood for me every morning."
"You haven't stocked up on firewood yet?"
"Do I look like a fucking lumber jack?" Petey snorted.
"No, actually," Seifer replied. "But I'll need to know how much you're going to pay me for saving your balls every day. They're precious things, you know. God only gave you two, Petey. And you probably need them both."
Petey grinned. "Well, suppose we could hammer that out later today once I see what you can do. Got an axe in the back, you know where it is, go get me some firewood and I can see what I can spare for ya."
"You're quite the humanitarian, Petey," Seifer said as he took off toward the back of the store. "Tell your stock girl that I'll be back in a few hours to warm her up a bit."
Petey cackled unpleasantly and the sound followed Seifer into the back room where the axe was laying against a pile of sacked flour. Going out into the cold everyday wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind, but it was a job and he needed the money. At least, he thought, he wouldn't have to be stuck in the store with Petey. He felt sorry for the poor stock girl that he had hired on. She was probably on the verge of quitting, and then Seifer could move in and take her job once he had enough firewood chopped.
He grabbed the axe and felt it slip under his mittens. He groaned, realizing he'd have to work barehanded.
The wind picked up perceptibly as he stepped out the backdoor of the general store and set his sites upon the forbidding shadow of the forest beyond. He associated nothing good with the forest and shuddered at the thought that he'd have to spend his next few days in it. Nothing good ever happened in amongst the trees. They stripped life down to the bare essentials and reverted men to animals. No one was beyond the most basic laws of nature in the forest. Seifer was tangled in both world, and the contradictions in his position between domestic and feral made transitions between their local manifestations all the more uncomfortable.
Distractedly, he swung the axe back and forth at his side and listened to the crunch of the snow under his boots.
Behind him, a sleek figure crept out from behind the general store's brown metal dumpster. Crusted over with the snow that had fallen the night before it was nearly invisible against the unplowed alleyway. Behind it, another crouched looking like nothing more than a shadow. They dogged his steps, staying far enough behind to remain unseen. Timing was critical.
Seifer glanced up at the first line of trees in the forest's vast phalanx. One of them, a wide brute of a pine that Seifer probably couldn't have put his arms all the way around, stood out in front of the rest like the ancient general it probably was. Seifer was after easier prey and like so many that had gone before him left the great old tree to the twists of time.
He found a dry, small tree that would suit his purposes and braced himself. He brought down his axe hard against the trunk.
Thud.
And again, he dug into the tree's side, ripping out its sappy innards.
Thud. Thud.
He hated chopping wood. And he hated Trabia. He hated that he had to be in Trabia and not somewhere more pleasant like Balamb. He was never really a fan of the cold. He liked beaches and sunshine and even those damn seagulls. They were pests, but they were company.
Thud. Thud.
The hits reverberated satisfyingly up his arm. It was almost like gunblade practice back at Garden. He hadn't really used Hyperion since leaving Esthar. Rarely had he come across something in Trabia that warranted the force of a gunblade. The animals avoided him. Perhaps they somehow knew what he was. Maybe they could sense it in him as some sort of sick perversion. He wasn't one of them -- not for either side.
The tree cracked and groaned, balancing on a tendril of wood that splintered when Seifer gave it a good shove.
He sighed and looked at the fallen tree with unmasked dislike. He'd have to dismember the damn thing to haul it back to the store, and it was going to take him a good chunk of time to accomplish.
Seifer walked toward it but froze as a flash of movement caught his eye. His body went ridged and his muscles tightened. He'd only caught it out of his peripheral vision and wasn't entirely sure he'd seen anything at all. But a tingling feeling ran up the back of his spine and with an animalistic sort of certainty he became suddenly positive of the fact that he wasn't alone.
He peered between the skinny pines, pushing down the urgency that was making his heart pound.
Nothing. There weren't even tracks in the snow minus his own. The trees were much to skinny to hide behind and the woods were completely silent around him.
Loosing his grip on the axe, he began to relax.
You're seeing things.
He shook his head and rubbed his eyes with cold fingers. His mittens were shoved into his coat pockets and his nails were already becoming an unhealthy shade of purple.
He opened his eyes again after a few long breaths and nearly jumped out of his skin, his heart leaping up hard into his throat.
"Holy shit!" he blurted out, jumping backward.
The wolf stood in front of him, only about ten feet away. It was huge, probably standing nearly waist high, and had a thick coat of pitch black fur. This only heightened the appearance of the wolf's amber yellow eyes. It stared at him steadily, standing knee deep in the snow. The unnatural way in which it stood observing him held Seifer in place once he regained his composure, and for a moment he felt a pang of familiarity.
Something cold pressed up against Seifer's hand. He jerked away from it only to see a second wolf standing beside him. This one was gray and white, but had the same unsettling yellow eyes. It was smaller than the black one, but only slightly. It's charcoal nose hovered near his hand for a moment and then pressed up against the cool flesh of his palm again...more persistently this time.
Seifer looked back and forth between the two wolves, frozen in place by an odd mixture of instinctual fear and the odd feeling that the two canines were nothing new in his life. He'd seen them before, and they'd always been nearby.
The wolf at his right paced and looked to the other one, seeming uneasy.
Seifer gripped the axe hard, ready to defend himself. The two wolves were at least waist high on him, and although they hadn't yet attacked he couldn't fathom any other reason for them to be standing in front of him.
Maybe they're curious...
He looked into the black wolf's haunting yellow eyes and felt something physically overcome him. His mind raced with a new sense of paranoia.
Maybe they know what I am.
With that though, he could feel it rising over him like an oncoming bought of nausea. A shuddering, hot feeling raced across his flesh, making his coat feel suddenly uncomfortable around him. He panted wildly, fighting what was happening to him. His lack of control was frightening, and the sense that his own consciousness had been tossed out into the wind was oddly pervasive. The world spun, becoming bleary before his eyes. He tried to focus on the wolves, hardly aware any longer what exactly he was looking at. Mixed flashes of black, yellow, and white advanced toward and around him, and for a moment Seifer felt an extreme mixture of terror and confusion.
Oh God...please.
He let out a pained bellow and dropped his axe. The two wolves lunged toward him and around them he heard her voice rippling inexplicably through all of time to him.
You're mine.
Pallas was panting, her sides heaving hard by the time she caught up to the figure now laying crumpled in the snow. Thero was in front of her, his black body heavily crusted over with snow so that he was hardly visible against the bleary backdrop of snow and rock. She dropped her gait to a trot, relieved to finally have a respite in the chase. Her legs were heavy with caked on snow and ice had collected around her nose and eyes.
"Is it over?" she asked when she came up beside the still form of Thero.
"I think so," he replied. He turned to her and, more out of courtesy than anything else, carefully licked away the ice from the fur around her eyes. She returned the favor and let out a long, deep breath that hung in the air long after she expelled it.
Together, they carefully approached the huddled mass they had been advancing upon. Pallas' feet crunched quietly in the snow and her nose twitched. It was a time to be cautious. She sniffed earnestly with each step she took. Thero approached from the opposite side, searching the ground and air with his own nose as well.
"He certainly smells like a man," Thero noted, pressing his nose against the figure's arm.
Pallas nudged him as well, but the man didn't move. His breathing was shallow, melting a small hallow in the snow around his face. She plopped down onto her haunches, her muscles still twitching from the long run. Thero mimicked her, and they sat in silence for a time.
"This isn't good," she finally muttered.
Thero looked up at her. "We're running out of time."
Pallas nodded and looked down at the man between them. His blonde hair was matted to his head around his temples, and his body was still burning with a perceptible heat. They had barely evaded becoming his prey, then followed him into the depths of the forest until he finally collapsed from exhaustion. Carefully, she licked at his face, hoping to bring him about enough to reassure her that he was really still alive.
"Do you suppose she knew?" Thero asked.
"I don't know..." Pallas shrugged. It was something to consider. Nobody alive knew about Delos. That was the way it was meant to be. But if this witch had somehow discovered them, then their entire existence was in danger.
Snow began to fall on them out of nowhere, floating down out of nearby trees on the wind. Time was running out, and Pallas didn't have the slightest idea how to handle the situation. Her flank stung and throbbed where his claws had sliced through a small part of her hide. It was a constant, burning reminder of how close he'd come to snatching her up. His reaction had been completely unexpected, and neither she or Thero fully understood quite what had gone wrong yet.
There was only one thing that they knew for sure.
This was only a sign of what was to come. The beast was taking over.