For the rest of the night she had very little energy, but that did not stop her from investigating the nearby woods and the exterior of the cabin, always remaining within human earshot of Priam. He enjoyed her curiosity and found it refreshing, considering the biggest mystery of her life for the past few days had been him. Now she could focus on something else, something much more simple, and he was free to marvel at the fact that his secret boyhood dream of owning a dog had, in a strange and terrible way, come true. He beckoned her inside when at last it seemed there was an hour or two left before dawn, and when he attempted to offer her the bed, she refused until he sat down first. In the back of his mind was a primal happiness at the idea that he would wake up just a bit later and find Lucina next to him, but he did not consider this and instead fell into a dreamland that was desolate but beautiful as the night sky. A flickering of his prophetic dream returned, the woman clambering from the skin of the wolf, but he chose to forget that piece. It worried him, and he was not a natural worrier.
When the tendrils of red and orange trickled into the room, Priam awoke. She was there, glowing softly like a goddess and pressed tightly against his chest for warmth. She was also naked once more, as her clothes had been left outside after her transformation, and her flesh was electric underneath his fingertips. He was content to remain there for a bit longer, his ward and master protected from the prowling creatures of the night so long as she remained encased between the scars on his arms. The fading burn on his hand prickled a bit as he thought about how instinctual it was to throw himself in front of her, no matter how tame the threat. Already he had battled wolves and fire, and for what? Why exactly was this creature able to control him so absolutely, and why did he submit to her when he was at least twice her weight and composed of the ores of the woods? It was witchcraft stronger than any curse she may bear, and yet it was a type of black magic that was more profound and dangerous than all other hexes combined. He was cursed, too.
He rose, leaving her tucked under the quilt she seemed so fond of, and began to strap on his boots in anticipation of the journey to town he had promised. It was not an errand he agreed to do lightly, but it was another opponent that could endanger his guest, and it would be fascinating to watch scummy peddlers throw their useless wares on unsuspecting peasants. He was large and intimidating enough to scare most potential scams away, and when occasionally a potions master would actually tempt him into buying a mysterious brew, he was impervious to such weak magic. A strength potion could not begin to add to what he already possessed, and a beauty potion was wasted the moment it passed through his unbreakable jaws. The best of the usual conmen stayed safely away when the woodsman was in town.
As he prepared himself to leave by sheathing a knife at his belt, Lucina awoke and slipped silently out of bed, blinking lethargically to erase traces of the wolf and to preserve her eyes from so much light so suddenly. She approached him like a specter, her feet barely gracing the floor and her hair cascading across her chest and shoulders like a waterfall made of a moonless night, and he turned his back on the door to face her fully.
"I promised I would go to the town," he reminded her, more for himself than for an explanation for her. "I think that I can pay for everything we need without selling any of our store, but I can hunt for something fresh just in case."
"You are quite the imposing figure," she commented breezily, sliding her dainty hands across his jaw. "I see no reason for any merchant to refuse to sell for your price."
"Say what you like, but I have never gotten anything for free." He clenched his fists for a moment but then relaxed; it was much more difficult to fight the rising adrenaline than to allow it to consume him for a moment. "I will not steal, either. I am above that."
"Quite literally," she teased. For a moment she seemed mesmerized by something on his face, and she smiled contentedly but also longingly. He had a vision of an ancient memory, one in which his father had bid farewell to a formless woman that was most likely his mother, and the phantom had laughed at his father and cupped his face in her delicate hands and then rested her lips against his. "Do what you will, then. Return soon, so that I will not have to wait here, lonely, all day."
Before he could reply, she had wrapped her arms around his neck and stood up on her toes to better reach every inch of him. This sort of voluntary contact was new to him, but something about the concept was tantalizing. Perhaps he would be permitted to try the same thing when he returned bearing gifts. She was incredibly thin compared to him, and her warmth was flickering as if he were attempting to embrace a candle in the wind, but it pleased him even so.
"I will not be gone long," he promised, and with that she was satisfied. She released him and stepped back, returning to the bed to cloth herself with the quilt, and bid him farewell with a slight wave and a grin more radiant than the dawn that had illuminated the forest.
He trekked swiftly through the woods, the map back to civilization ingrained into his mind despite his reluctance to return to it, and each step that drew him closer to the walls of men seemed to carve into his comprehension of the woman in his cabin. He had been alone for many months now, and perhaps he had finally lost himself and dreamed the entire ordeal. Everything from binding her wounds to battling wolves and even experiencing her gruesome metamorphosis beneath his fingertips could exist in the planes of his imagination, and if that were true he may as well stroll into the dungeons now while his head was clear. Entering the town, however, supported everything he had experienced when it came to Lucina.
Townsfolk were strewn about the streets, clustered as if they were semi-intelligent forms of lichen and could not survive without a wall behind them and a handful of other people surrounding them, and many of them exchanged scraps of paper and seemed to think themselves so clever about it. He was perceptive; every brief flick of the wrist or flutter of paper was documented by him until he was able to close in on one of the clumps like a bear cornering an unfortunate herd of deer. At first the people seemed not to notice him, and in fact a stranger slipped one of the scraps into his hand before she seemed to realize he was the elusive woodsman and she suddenly attempted to rescind the accidental gift by standing in his path.
"Man like you wouldn't know what to do with something like that," she scolded as she swiped, but he easily held it above her reach.
"What is it?" he questioned, more of a demand because he was so absolute in comparison to her feeble peasant build. The others had stepped back, terrified and floundering, but he suspected that they would not call the guards to investigate the disturbance to their secret little gathering.
"Why, it's just a bit of paper. Nothing for a solitary man." Almost forlornly she reached again, knowing full well she would have to convince him or bribe him the way she did when dealing with all other street urchins. "Give that back, now. I don't have enough to go around the town, and you surely want no part of this."
"Perhaps I do." He folded the slip between his fingers and slid it into the frayed leather pouch he kept on his side that contained a handful of coins and some line in case he needed to fix a snare, while the woman watched in dismay. "You will explain to me or you will stand down."
"Surely there is something that can convince you to forget this little incidence?"
"I do not forget." Briefly Lucina crossed his mind, her dainty human flesh left exposed to the barbs and claws of the woods, and he narrowed his eyes. "Regardless, I am willing to remain silent, in exchange for a few necessities."
"Yes, of course. Anything!" The woman beckoned forth her companions, who bore the packs of traveling merchants and suddenly seemed as eager to sell to him as if the king of the land had demonstrated interest in them. There were all sorts of strange costumes and jewels he did not recognize, ornaments he did not need, and scrolls he certainly would never read. However, amongst the more elaborate fashions were some simpler dresses that appeared hardy enough for the outdoors, and another merchant still proffered thick slabs of cloth and neatly stitched blankets. If this was how willing these underlings were to buy his silence, he saw no harm in accepting their gracious offers. He pointed to a few dresses, his callous gaze enough to stanch impending questions, and then to a particularly luxurious cloth that could be stitched into an excellent mantle. Lastly, he selected a particularly arcane tome, and with these treasures secured he passed a scrap of paper back to the woman. She was immediately relieved. "I knew even you would understand. Be on your way, then, and say nothing."
That was an order he could oblige willingly, especially as he hid the book with its newly torn first page under the blanket with the woman's taboo little paper still guarded in his pouch. He could not read, at least not well enough to apprehend every sliver of secrets contained in the scrap when he managed to glance at it, but he had noticed a rather accurate sketch of a lovely maiden, her dress drawn to be elaborate and expensive while her hair was long and slightly unkempt, especially considering the regality in her swiftly scribbled face. There was no denying, however, that the subject of the portrait and its cryptic message was Lucina.