Here comes a llllllllong chapter! THe longest I've ever written for fanfiction anyways...Here's chapter two enjoy! And by the by I dont know what the main characters name is yet, so bare with me! ps. PLEASE REVIEW! I was hesitant to release this story because I never get any feed back!

thanks and with mush luv,

wolfie

Loneness was not always my keeper. I had once lived with a Wiseman off the south bend of the Himalayas. The man's name was Baba. He was 5'6 and had long wavy snow hair, and a long white beard that matched the thigh length of his tresses. He was much older then I, dating back far then I care to remember. He was the second of the oldest Elders, and most likely the wisest. He had seen many things in his years, from the switching of nobles, to the great Italian massacre. He shared most of his memories with me, but some he kept in the shadows of his intellect; I could taste it in his expressions.

"Fear is the heart of love," he once told me, his deep voice rough and full of honey. I nodded, interested by his sudden statement. He shifted in his chair, pulling off the reading glasses that sat upon his plump rounded nose, and set his book aside. I sat cross-legged beside his heels, a book stretched out in front of me. I heard him sigh, and then he glanced down towards me. Fondness filled his eyes. He'd always thought of me as a daughter ever since he found me, but I always felt oddly guilty that I was fortunate enough to receive his love; while his previous daughter did not, but that was a whole story for later he had said to me. As for me at the time, I thought of him as my role model. I hadn't honestly understood what deep connections were, but in that point of my past, I craved them, not knowing I had any. The reason for my lost comprehension with deep connections to someone was that when I was created, I woke alone, no one to teach or share this life with. I had found myself in stoned bed, courts people gazing at me with sheer terror. Baba was the only one that saved me from myself. He offered to take care of me, instead of being handled by the special kin. Each morning I woke up in my little cot in Baba's den, I felt grateful, and unashamed of what I was.

"The world is wonderful, despite of what happens in life." Baba grinned, his wrinkles pulling up at his face.

"It is," I agreed quickly, while I flipped to the next page of my book. Automatically, my eyes flickered up to meet his when he's mood changed. He shed a wistful smile, suddenly looking his age and worn down, like a strip of leather that smells of salt.

"There's so much of it. I would have liked to see it all." This surprised me. In my eyes the world was very diminutive. Baba of all people should have realized this, due to the fact he had been in every country and village in Europe, which took who knows how long.

"But you've seen it all." I protested, my mind bubbling with confusion. He smirked, his wavy white hair resting on his thighs.

"That's not true dear one," he chortled, "not true at all." I raised an eyebrow, my curious nature wheeling in my head. I squared my shoulders and opened my mouth to disagree, but he cut me off.

"I wish we could open our eyes, to see in all directions at the same time." I gaped at the very thought of it. I imaged myself standing on a tin rooftop, the mountains bordering the horizon, the lakes and oceans growing with each drop of water, the steam that rose off the salty sea, creating more rain to restore what was taken, the swaying trees that played with breeze, humans cavorting down by the riverside, while the wild animals scurried through the forest, free and tender. The filling scene of a sunrise and sunset set off my gasp.



"What a beautiful view." My lips twitched upwards as I released a dazzling grin.

"Yes," he said sorrowfully, "if you were never aware what was around you. It would almost be a curse if you could see everything at once." I grimaced at the sudden thought of barred teeth and raking claws, but I kept my words locked in my head, pressing into Baba's mind. Indeed Baba was an unnatural creature. Not human, not vampire, not a shape shifter, nor a werewolf, and certainly not a witch. He was wizard, a strange one at that, but he preferred to be called a healer, rather then what he was. Odd he was, fighting his species and able to place thoughts in my head no one else possibly could. I found it staggering that he could also block out my persuasive mind that attempted to unwind and see everything that would happen in his life. He would not allow me. Each time he sensed my presence in his judicious judgment, my connection would hit an unforeseen blank wall. As soon as Baba's eyes widened, the white barrier broke my trance. I folded my arms and snorted in frustration.

"It is true what they say," he chuckled, amused by my displeasure. "I live like a hermit in my own head" Brilliance danced across his face, but his features were unexpectedly weighed down by a grim expression. I asked him what was wrong, but he ignored me completely, leaving me to feel utterly alone in my thoughts.

"We are going through though times again loved one." This confused me. The noble courts had just made peace with one another. I didn't see a glitch in the truce, but perhaps I wasn't looking hard enough. I stared at the old man, pleading for information, so when he said nothing I spoke.

"We are not at war, the peace has been restored. I don't know what you're talking about." He shook his great head, his long thick mane greasy in the light.

"Dear one," He hesitated, "the peace will be broken. I can see your curious nature lacks in politics, but things have been brewing in the gloom, and the treaty will be ruined, and soon." I glared at him, my eyes wide with alarm. He's words stung. I was interested in everything, including Night world politics. However, as much as I wanted to dwell on it, I shook off the tiny remark, my attention elsewhere important.

"You can't foresee that." I objected, my voice bleak. Uncertainty dripped from my skin, something had always been bugging me, as if I didn't know everything about Baba's figure. I glanced up to read his features. He's expression was torn, seeing that he wanted to tell me something, but wasn't direct on the timing. Silence took the chamber. The room became dim, and the only sound in my eardrums was the crackling of the fire.

"Oh," he spoke softly, "but I can." The shadows of the firelight flashed across his face, moving to a tune unseen. My chest felt tight. I wheezed in utter flabbergast, my gaze never leaving his once. There Baba sat. His wrinkled face grave, his hair oily, his shoulder slumped and his gray-white eye brows needed plucking. The old man watched me, reading my expressions carefully. I knew one way or another I'd hurt his feeble feelings, so I clenched my jaw and smoothed out my face.



"You can see?" I stuttered feeling light headed. Pain rolled off his leather skin, the fragrance making my eyes water.

"Yes. I can see you on my path when it is roughly cut off." Tears stung at my senses, and I bet my lip fighting against the urge to let them roll down my perfect cheeks freely. I glowered up at the ceiling, trying my best to hide them, as the wetness grew larger. Finally, it was too much. The salty water brimmed over and flowed down my cheekbones.

"Now, now young one," he attempted to comfort, previous to leaning down to look me in the eyes. I was astounded when the saccharine taste of happiness rolled around on my taste buds. I peered around the room to see where the contentment was coming from feeling there was no way it was coming from the healer. I felt absolutely stupid when he fell into a roaring fit of laughter.

"This is why you mustn't pry into my thoughts, you might not like what you hear and see." His lips twitched upwards at the ends. I frowned, setting my arms across my chest stubbornly. I disagreed to his statement entirely. I wanted to know these things so that I could enjoy everything to the fullest, besides, I liked taking the advantage of knowing how to prevent and foresee what was going to happen, and so I could prepare myself mentally and physically. Baba saw my jaw set, and knowing I was about to dispute, he beat me to it.

"I will let you see," his voice growing light, almost weightless, "'When the sun shines again, I'll pull back the blinds and curtains to let the light in'" he quoted. With that, he scooped up his book again and fit his thick reading glasses to his face. Instantly he was lost in his reading, his eyes scanning the page intently. The night in the parlor with Baba was one of many of my darkest feelings. It was funny how your glee could be murdered in a simple sentence. Sorrow drips into your heart through a pinhole, like a faucet that leaks and there is comfort in the sound, the sound of repetition. In the most chaotic verdict, if you can pick out a familiar background noise, you can be comforted and less pained. Even in the blackest night.

I woke up with the sweet memories of Baba floating in my head, like a lily pad placed upon the water. Dizzily, I pushed back the white comforter and climbed out of the stiff hotel bed; my heart feeling heavy, I slipped on a creamed colored dress and stepped into white slip on shoes. I gather a few things and stalked past a human, who watched me keenly as need surround his thoughts. I walked through the tasteless hallway, staring at the hideous carpeting. Faintly, I heard splashing and I perked my head up, interested. I didn't know the hotel had a pool. I continued on to the front desk, only pausing twice to gaze at the pool.

"How may I help you?" A thin short haired blonde sat at the receptionist desk, her feet up on the counter, and her head bowed as she busily worked to get the dirt out of her nails.

"Yes, I'd like to check out." The melody of my voice took her off guard. She whipped her head upwards, the cleaning of her nails halted briefly; bags shown under her brown eyes causing her to look 

fairly old for her age. The woman's mouth was partially parted open, the shock of my presents, when she gasped. I gave her a warm smile, feeling slightly awkward.

"Check out?" I repeated. She fumbled around, paper falling and pens clanking to the ground, arms stretched out, searching for the mouse to the computer. Once it met her hands she grasped it tightly, clicking wildly on the keys.

"R-room nu-umber?" She stuttered, her face flushing slightly. I rested my elbow on the marble top, my chin nesting in my palm. I was suddenly slightly board.

"209" I sighed, rocking back and forth on my heels. The human's hands roamed the keyboard, typing away fast. She sojourned to shove a piece of hair out of her face.

"That will be 185 dollars, cash or credit?" I reached into my bag and pulled out a simple snap coin purse.

"Cash" I said, handing her the bills. She took them willingly and counted. Her bottom lip trembled as she set a hundred dollar bill back onto the table. Her mortality kicked in. I could see it in her thoughts and soul. She was starving, with a little one at home. I grinned hugely, happy to see her humanity and bitterness flow over her thoughts. She did need the money, but common good won over.

"Miss," she hesitated again, her mind suddenly set, "You gave me a hundred extra. Here," She trusted the paper into my hands. Longing peeled off her rawhide skin, before she turned stubbornly away, biting her tongue, halfway angry with herself. I shoved them back on the counter.

"No mistake." I nodded when she wheeled around to confront me. "It's for you. Some sort of a tip, or what not. I have no use of it. You may take it." Helplessness had dragged her into a dark hole, and she, in turn, was trying vigorously to claw her way back out. Wordlessly, I twisted on the pads of my feet and skipped my way out the door. The money was no loss to me. I had too much of it.