Author's Note: I haven't thought about this fic in a long time… But you know, I was re-reading the first three chapters and I discovered that I really liked it. I'm really just wondering if there's still anyone out there? I haven't actually done any new work on it, but there's quite a bit more here, in rough form, if anyone's interested…

Bob could feel himself being slowly tugged towards consciousness, much as he tried to fight it. Bone-weary as he was, the Guardian was just as restless and sleep had come only in fitful bursts.

The silver-haired sprite blinked his eyes open, only to shut them almost instantly in pain. A wedge of sunlight had fallen directly on his face, disturbing his sleep. Shading his eyes, he stumbled over to the window and drew the curtains.

The Guardian yawned and surveyed the room. Enzo was lying quite still in bed, labored, whistling breaths escaping his chest. His face was covered by a sheen of sweat and his damp hair was matted to his scalp. A small gray cat was curled up at the boy's feet, staring back at Bob impassively. With a sigh the Guardian wiped the youngster's brow, eyeing the little feline curiously. He tentatively reached out and scratched under its chin, rewarded with a soft purr.

"I'll be back." He whispered, waking towards the door in slow, painful steps. His feet throbbed under their bandages, and his fingers as well, but the Guardian knew that pain was a promising sign. It was the absence of pain that worried him the most. The silver-haired sprite descended the stairs and walked into the smoky common room of the hostelry.

The muted conversation that had been trading amongst the few patrons in the room ceased the nano Bob walked through the door. The Guardian recognized the two men who had greeted his arrival amongst the surly faces, their defiant gazes tinged with fear. Their eyes followed him as he slowly walked across the room towards the front door of the inn.

The cold air that washed over him felt refreshing after the atmosphere inside. Beyond the out and out hostility there was an oppressive feel to the place – a kind of anxious depression seemed to hover in the air almost as tangible as the wood smoke. The air outside was fresh and clean, but very cold.

The Guardian surveyed the surroundings in daylight for the first time since his arrival. The line of jagged, snow-capped peaks that he and Enzo had earlier seen were clearly visible in the far distance, looking little closer than they had two cycles walk earlier. The inn was nestled in a small valley at the intersection of two roads, visible only as snow-covered breaks in the trees, the larger of which disappeared into the distance as it shadowed the river towards the far off mountains.

The other road was smaller – more like a path, really - barely wider than a man's height across. It disappeared into the trees behind the inn, where a lone mountain loomed, dark and imposing. While clearly lacking the height of the distant chain it was more impressive, rising alone above the small hills and the valley surrounding it. It's sides were covered in dank green foliage, which abruptly ceased perhaps half way up the height of the mountain. Despite the blue skies surrounding it the top of the peak was obscured in thick clouds and fog.

A frown crossed the Guardian's sharp features as he stared upwards. He was unable to tear his eyes away – the mountain was a commanding presence, dominating all that surrounded it.

"It's bad luck to stare at it for too long, Pilgrim." Rosa's voice called from behind him after an indeterminate time.

The silver-haired sprite turned, startled. "Bad luck? Sorry, I… I just never noticed that peak when we were hiking in. The weather was pretty bad…"

Rosa stared up the peak for just a nano, furrowing her brow, before turning her glance on Bob. "Feeling better, are we? Out and about?"

"I just needed some air." The Guardian sighed. "I'm going to be fine – I've been through worse. My feet'll be sore for a few cycles, maybe."

"I should say so!" the red-haired woman chortled. "You're a cool one Pilgrim, I'll give you that. And strong as a bull to survive that cold for two days as well as you did."

"I had to. It's easy to be strong when you're big and you've been roughed up a few times, Rosa – not so easy when you're just a little sprite. Boy, I mean. He was hurting terribly out there, you know – even before the river. But he tried to hide it from me…"

"Naturally." The woman nodded. "It is the way of young men, is it not?"

"I suppose." The Guardian nodded. "How is he, Rosa – really? His breathing doesn't sound good to me at all."

"Nor me, My Friend." The innkeeper said softly. "His lungs are full of an evil congestion – it is the way of the vapor that attacks him. He coughs terribly – and there is some blood."

"Blood?" Bob said, blanching. "In his lungs? What can we do about it?"

"All that we are, Bob. The tea I feed him may help to clear his lungs in time but there is little else we can do, bar keep him warm and help him sleep as best we can. And we must try to get him to eat, even the soup – he is very weak. I suppose I could call Vlad and have him leeched…"

"Leeched?"

"Is this yet another thing unknown in your strange Main-frame, Bob?" Rosa frowned. "Have you not seen leeches?"

"No." Bob replied dubiously.

"They are a small creature of the swamps and marshes. They are placed on the ill person's skin and draw blood from them-"

"No!" Bob gasped. "No one's doing that to Enzo!"

The red-haired woman shrugged. "The boy is yours, Bob – we will not do so if you do not wish it. I think it would be of dubious value in any case – I am skeptical of its effectiveness against illnesses. Although I have seen positive results for injuries…"

"Crash!" Bob hissed. "This is the worst – not being able to do anything to help him! Sick, in a strange place like this…"

"You have done much." The innkeeper said in a low voice. "He draws his strength from you – and you're a fool if you have not seen it. If it consoles you we will know soon, I think. The herbs may be effective and his breathing may start to clear in the next day or two. If not, he- he…"

"No!" the silver-haired sprite grimaced. "A Matrix give up? I don't think so. He'll fight his way through this – you'll see."

Their conversation was interrupted by the appearance of Pesaj, who carried a bale of hay towards the tethered horses. The young man smiled sheepishly at the pair as he walked by but said nothing. Bob studied him closely for the first time. The boy was tall, thin but healthy looking with a mop of curly brown hair atop his head. The Guardian judged him to be nearly grown.

"Thank you, Pesaj." Rosa called out to him as he strode back towards the inn. "Get yourself some supper and rest for a while – I'll be inside to tend the kitchen in a few moments."

"Thank you Mum." The young man nodded shyly. He cast a last curious glance at Bob and disappeared inside.

"Is he your son?" The Guardian asked.

"Pesaj?" Rosa chuckled. "No, Pesaj is not of my flesh, Pilgrim. Does his hair look so red to you?"

"No." Bob admitted with a smile.

"He is a good lad. A hard worker." The innkeeper said fondly. "He earns his keep more than adequately, I can promise. He is old enough to live on his own, I suppose – but I had the room and needed the help. Besides, I believe he is happier here. Still a baby he is, still a baby… But no, not of my flesh."

"Where are his parents?"

Rosa stared thoughtfully at the silver-haired sprite for a nano. "Gone, Pilgrim. Like so many before them."

"Like your son?" Bob prodded, sensing the cusp of something important.

"You ask many questions, suddenly. Laszlo and the others would be most suspicious of your motives."

"I'm just curious." Bob smiled, cursing internally. Delete it – if she was here to tell him something, why in the net didn't she just do it? For what seemed like the thousandth time he asked himself just what kind of game he was in. "You don't have to tell me if it's uncomfortable for you."

"What a strange man you are." The red-haired woman mused. "Your hair may be the least strange thing about you, I think. Come, Bob – if I do not attend the bar the scum inside will drink me into a potter's grave. Come…"

Enzo could feel a weight pressing down on his chest, even more than the usual crushing tightness he'd felt for the past cycle. He painfully levered his eyes open, blinking rapidly as sweat dripped down, stinging them. A pair of limpid green eyes stared back at him from close range. "Hello."

The cat's silky voice jerked the boy into consciousness quickly and painfully. "Crash!" he panted. "I…thought…maybe I…dreamed…you."

"I think I'm insulted." The feline replied huffily. It looked infuriatingly comfortable atop his rib cage.

"Could you…please move? I…can…hardly breathe…as it is."

"Sorry!" the cat replied, moving onto the little sprite's stomach, where it turned three times in a circle before settling down, head on it's paws, staring back at him.

The boy gritted his teeth, trying to fight down the panic that surged through him. A cat was talking to him and he could barely bring himself to be concerned about it! Every breath was a painful chore, and he just couldn't seem to suck in enough air to talk properly. Pain and weakness suffused his body and his processor, head to toe. The youngster felt a tear on his cheek, mingling with the perspiration.

"What's the matter?" the cat asked, a hint of concern in it's cool voice.

"I…I…" the boy wheezed, the words and the breath to speak them elusive. "I'm…tired…of …feeling like…this! I don't…think…I'm…ever…going to get…better…"

"I'm sorry." The feline sighed. "Did you try throwing up?"

"I'm…so…deleted useless!" the boy moaned. "All…I ever do...is… screw up! I…hate it!"

"Things happen for a reason. I was waiting for you – you had to come here. Perhaps it had to be this way."

"How do you…know…so much…Cat?"

"I'm a cat. We're very perceptive. And my name is Kristof, by the way. The Mistress picked it."

"Kristof…" the boy whispered dispiritedly. Maybe the animal was nothing more than a illusion, a fantasy created by his sick processor. Who knew? A chilling thought descended on him. "You… You know…a lot...about…me?"

"I was expecting you." The cat replied.

The boy sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. "Am… Am…I...going to die?"

"Yes." Kristof replied simply.

"Oh, User!" Enzo wheezed. He'd hoped he could be braver about it when the time came, but the words filled the boy with crushing fear and loneliness. And Bob – how would he feel? He'd blame himself. And Dot would be so lonely! "I...I…"

"Don't be sad." The feline said gently.

"When… When am…I going…to…die?" the youngster whispered.

The gray cat looked annoyed and twitched a tufted ear. "How should I know? I'm a cat, not a seer!"

"But…But you said… You…said I was…going to die!" Enzo protested.

"Of course you are – everyone dies! Even cats know that!"

A white hot rage built of frustration consumed the boy, and he launched a feeble blow towards the feline. "You…you…"

"That was uncalled for." Kristof scolded, nimbly hopping out of the path of the youngster's fist.

"Why are you… torturing me? Just leave…me…alone!"

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to cause you pain – I merely wish to speak with you. I have a lot to say, an you're the only one that can understand me."

Enzo fell back in bed, breathing heavily. "I…don't understand. Why…me?"

"I am not certain." The cat replied with a feline frown. "It seems that I never had the compulsion to speak before you came here, yet somehow I always knew that I could. As I said, I was expecting you."

Enzo lay in bed, fighting for air and weighing the cat's words. The encounters with Kristof were beginning to feel less and less like a hallucination to him, and more and more real. If so, they were one of the more puzzling experiences of his young life. If nothing else puzzling over them was a distraction from his own weakness, and his fear about what was happening to his body.

"You're very quiet." Kristof interjected.

"I'm…thinking."

"Ah."

"Why… Why do you think…only I can hear you?" Kristof would have shrugged, Enzo was certain, if cats could do such a thing. The boy wiped the sweat from his forehead with a forearm and closed his eyes, fighting back a wave of nausea. "What… What do you…think you're supposed…to tell me?"

"Ah! Now there is a question I can answer." The feline said happily. "But I wonder if this is the best time – you're obviously not feeling well…"

"Tell me!" the boy replied with surprising forcefulness. "If you…don't…I might…never know. I could…die…any nano." Even as he said the words, Enzo felt in his heart that they were true.

"Perhaps, perhaps… But why would you have come here if only to die? That would be a rather cruel trick on me, wouldn't it? I'd have to go back to mewling and purring to people who don't even value my opinions!"

"Crash! If you…have something…to say…just say it!"

"Maybe you're right." The feline mused. "You seem fairly coherent to me at the moment – for a human-"

"Wake up, now."

"What?" Enzo gasped, confused. Rosa's face was staring down at him. "Where- Where…"

"How are you feeling, Enzo?"

The boy looked around the room quizzically. "Where… Where's…Kristof?"

"That cat seems to have taken quite a shine to you, Child." Rosa smiled. "He's on your bed every chance he gets. I have to chase him off – you need your rest, you know. How are you feeling?"

Enzo sighed and closed his eyes, feeling more muddled than ever before. The chill that had descended on him during his conversation with the cat kept him in its grip. "Bad. Very bad."

"I know, Sweet. I am sorry to wake you but you need some more medicine. Can you drink some tea for me?"

"All right." The youngster nodded. The innkeeper helped him into a sitting position and handed him a mug. The boy took a deep swallow, savoring the warming comfort of the beverage even as his constricted throat burned. "Tastes better…hot."

"I imagine it does. I need you to drink all of it this time, Enzo – it's very important. I know it seems like a lot but it dilutes the medicine – makes it taste better. Can you finish the entire cup?"

"I'll try." Enzo replied, trying to muster a smile for the strange woman who was making such an effort to help him feel better. He took another sip of tea. "What's wrong…with me…Rosa?"

"You are sick, Child. It is the cold, the chill of the river water. It causes your lungs to labor and struggle. Do you feel it as you breathe?"

"Yes." The boy whispered, closing his eyes.

"We see much of it in these villages, My Angel." The woman continued gently. "The medicine can help – it can clear your lungs and help you breathe. But only if you drink all of it."

Enzo eagerly sipped the tea, shivering. The red-haired woman wrapped his blankets around him more tightly. "Are you cold, Child?"

"Yes." The youngster grimaced as even the innocuous tea caused his stomach to roil and heave.

"Is that all you can say, then? Finish your tea now."

Enzo could feel a deep melancholy gripping him tightly. He pushed the cup away. "I know…you think...think I'm just a…little kid." He sighed. "But… if…I'm gonna die I…wanna know."

"Why would you say that, Child? You just need-"

"No!" the boy interrupted. "Please! Just…just tell me. Everyone's always…protecting me. Trying to…be nice and…lying to me…"

"Child, Child…" the red-haired woman sighed, sitting on the bed wearily. "It's not such a bad thing, you know – you have your whole life to hear unpleasant truths from people…"

"Do I?"

The innkeeper wiped the boy's face with a damp cloth and forced a smile to her face. "You want me to tell you the truth, do you?" Enzo nodded. "I told your friend Bob that you were older than you looked – I see I was right. Not too young to be grown up, eh? Boys will never change…"

"Please…just tell me."

"Very well. This illness in your lungs – it effects many people in these villages every year. Their lungs fill with fluid, even blood. They become so hot that they burn to the touch, they cough and they cough until their ribs break, sometimes. Shall I go on?" Enzo closed his eyes tightly, but nodded again.

Rosa grabbed his hand in her own and continued. "It is a very bad sickness, the vapor you have. It claims many people, Enzo – especially the young and old. Those that are too weak to fight. Some recover and some… Some do not."

"I knew it." The green-haired boy whispered, shivering again. He could feel the congestion in his lungs, hear them rattle when he breathed. He felt the woman's strong arms wrap tightly around him.

"Now you listen to me, Child – Rosa has seen many sick in her years in this village. Many people I've helped to get better. I may not be an apothecary or a priest but I have my wisdom. If you are strong and fight, and you want to get better, you will get better. That is why you must drink all of your medicine and try to eat Rosa's soup and make your body stronger – so you can live."

"I'm so tired." The youngster groaned. "I…I…"

"You wanted me to tell you, Boy." Rosa continued gently. "Now I am telling you what you must do if you wish to live. Your friend told me that you were strong – that you and your family had faced many hardships and survived. He said he believed you would fight and you would live because you were strong and you would never give up."

"Bob…said that?"

"He did." The innkeeper smiled. "Was he correct, My Angel?"

"I'll… I'll try." Enzo wheezed. It had been so long since he'd felt anything but sick and miserable that he couldn't imagine anything else. "But I …don't know… if I can."

"I think you can. I think you're very brave to have survived all you have and be here now. I think your friend Bob was right about you. Now - will you finish your tea and take some soup, Enzo?"

"K." the boy whispered, forcing a wan smile. "Thanks."

"Do not thank me, Child – you insult me. That I would do less than my best to help a foundling stranger like yourself – such a thing is impossible. Come now, finish your tea and Rosa will bring you some nice cold water as well. Drink, drink…"

"I'm telling you – they're demons. Like the others. Who'll be taken next – you? Me? We should kill them now and be done with it!"

"I don't know, Laszlo." The bearded man called Nicolai said dubiously. "I saw the boy when Rosa took him away – he looked very ill to me. I've never heard of a demon looking like that."

"Fool! It is their way – to deceive us, make us see untruths. Are you so easily tricked?"

A third man at the table lifted his tankard. "No one from the mountain has ever come to us in this guise before. They take us silently, in the night. Why all of this pretense? They've been here three days!"

"I do not know the ways of demons!" Laszlo spat. "How many more need to be taken before we fight back?"

"I'm all for fighting back." Nicolai grunted. "But not for murdering innocent strangers in their beds." He furtively cast a glance at the silver-haired figure eating at the bar. "He is a strange one, I admit. But can you not see how the boy's sickness wastes his spirit?"

"What innocent stranger would be foolish enough to come to Voineia now?"

"If they are strangers they may not know." The third man mused. "He said he was from far away-"

"Enough!" Laszlo hissed. "If you will not help me-"

"Shhh!" Nicolai interrupted. Rosa walked into the common room, staring suspiciously at the little group.

"Another round of mead – Gentlemen?" she asked with a wry smile.

"Thank you Rosa." Nicolai nodded. The three men shared an awkward glance and stared down at the table.

"I wonder what they're talking about." Bob said thinly, watching the innkeeper fill three tankards from a stoneware jug.

"Do not joke, Bob." Rosa said softly. "The men are this village are desperate and angry. It is not something to be joked about."

"You think they might try something?"

"I think nothing except that you should be very careful." The innkeeper sighed. "They are good men, for the most part – but desperate. The more foolish among them may be especially dangerous."

"If anyone tries to hurt Enzo I'll cut them in half." The Guardian replied in a low voice.

"I do not doubt it, Pilgrim. Let us hope that is not necessary. Just be vigilant, that is all I ask. Laszlo, especially, I worry about. His wife and brother…"

"What?" Bob prompted.

"Never mind." Rosa sighed. "Just be careful. Will you take a cup of mead?"

"No." Bob scowled. "Milk is fine, thank you."

"Your religion?" the red-haired woman smiled.

"I prefer to keep my wits about me – that's all. Like you said, just being careful…"