"What an odd blizzard" remarked Kurome.

It was the first thing she had said since the camp's transition began, which was an hour ago. The sunny, blue sky was sandwiched between two dark, grey masses, one to the north, above the Shuang range and the other to the south, to the left of the convoy. If she squinted, she could see the snow falling from them. She didn't feel like sitting, so she walked next to the convoy, sheathed sword in her hand. Mud squished beneath her black boots, thick snow abruptly flanking her and the wagons. Not far ahead were the whooshing sounds of Bol's flamethrower.

The General and Tatsumi had used the break in the storm to relay the hotel's location. Excited at the prospect of a warmer place to sleep, the soldiers immediately began to pack up the next morning. Now it was 11:30, and the blizzard didn't seem it would return for another two hours.

"We got lucky" commented an enthusiastic voice ahead of her.

"It's so...convenient" Kurome replied, glancing to a turning Seyru. She suddenly regretted speaking.

Seyru faced Kurome, walking backwards. Kuro softly gazed to her while in Seyru's arms, before leaping out to play in the snow. His mistress called him halfheartedly before leaving him be.

Seyru sighed as if she were thinking about the best dessert in the world, before looking to Kurome, who didn't meet her gaze.

"Esdeath is amazing, isn't she."

Kurome stared at the swirling darkness above the mountain range before answering.

"She's a good leader..."

"Yes! You know, she's really good for morale! Like, that one time she hugged me in the flowerbed! Were you there?"

The swordswoman still faced the north, studying the view. It had been a month since she heard Seyru's last tirade. Koro scrambled wildly through the snow next to them, than paused to sneeze.

"No" answered Kurome. "I must've been busy."

"Well, I was angry at Koro for not sitting when I told him too, and then Esdeath hugged me! The most powerful and beautiful general in the world hugged me!"

By now Kurome wasn't listening. Looking past Seyru she saw their destination. Despite the sunlight, the Double Swan was as gray as it would have been during the storm, the broken window above the shattered entrance gaping at them.

...

By 2 o'clock most of the convoy was parked nearby, the cargo stored in large canvas tents outside. Important cargo, such as the teigus, were placed in the hotel. Esdeath allowed all her subordinates to choose their rooms; there was enough to go around. To Team Stylish and some other's dismay, the third and top floor was sealed off.

"Something's blocking it from inside!" Mimi growled, her headset idle around her neck. She slammed her shoulder into the door several times before muttering a few swears.

"What about the other door?" said a red-haired man, inspecting his fingernails with his helmet resting in his arm.

"Other door's sealed too" answered a guard.

Mimi's shoulder's tensed before slowly loosening as she let a out a long sigh. The red-headed boy jumped when she slammed her fist into the oak door.

"FUCK!" she yelled, a little spittle getting onto Stylish's coat.

"Mimi" he sighed, wiping with a handkerchief, "put on your ears and listen to some white noise outside. Take advantage of the peace we have before the storm returns."

"Suck my tits!"

"Keep those to yourself, please."

Someone gruffly cleared their throat from behind. Turning around, a chill went up Mimi's spine. The man behind started to move past her, his body like a giant.

"The fuck is up with him?" she blurted out. "Where the hell's his pupil-"

"Daidara!" exclaimed Stylish, giving Mimi a rough pinch to the neck. I haven't seen you at all during this trip! How've you been?"

"Good" he grunted.

Daidara reeled back before smashing his huge shoulder into the door. A bang erupted, but the door didn't budge.

"What the hell..." he muttered.

"Daidara!" another voice called confidently.

Behind the group Tatsumi reached the final step of the staircase. He entered the hall, one hand in his coat pocket.

"Daidara" he said again. "Esdeath wants to speak to you. In the lobby."

The hulking man scowled.

"Sure. How'd ya know my name."

"'Cause you fit her description perfectly."

With a humph Daidara approached the stairs, his boots clunking on the hardwood floor. When he was out of hearing, Tatsumi glanced to Stylish.

"Does he have a problem or something? The Three Beasts I've met so far really don't seem to like me."

"It's okay" Stylish sighed. "All three of those people...are pretty closed off in their own ways."

"What do you mean?"

"Once you meet them all you'll find out."

"...Cool...so what're you all doing here?"

As Tatsumi and Stylish talked Mimi couldn't help but notice the one with the brown hair. She had only had brief glimpses of him, but had never seen him this close before.

"We gonna get in or what?" said the redhead.

"Shut the fuck up, Trooma" she scolded in a hushed tone.

After a silence between them, Mimi faced him and spoke again.

"Who is he?"

Trooma blinked.

"Stylish."

"No, dumbass. I mean the guy..."

The helmet in Trooma's arm was switched to the other one.

"Him... I've seen him with the Jaegers... never really been formally introduced so I don't know..."

The conversation between the boy and Stylish died into a cursory exchange of goodbyes, than the boy turned back to the stairs, a floorboard creaking under him.

"Excuse me..." Mimi rasped, before clearing her throat and repeating herself.

Tatsumi turned, smiling at her.

"Hi! How're you?"

"Hi..."

His eyes were oddly charming; they were green yet against the black wood around them those eyes seemed to glow darkly, like a dolphin's back at night. It was almost like they weren't green at all, as if that color was just a mask they hid behind.

"Wh-what's you're name?" Mimi asked.

"Tatsumi. I'm a Jaeger. What about you?"

"My names...Mimi."

She noticed his boots. They shifted slightly, showing he wanted to be somewhere else.

"I'm from...Team Stylish. Tatsumi...it's nice to meet you..."

"Nice to see you too! I've gotta dash, I'll see you later um, Mee-Mee."

As he turned and quickly descended the stairs, she found that he had a handsome jawline. Behind her, Trooma chuckled.

"What the fuck is it?" Mimi shouted, turning.

"Nothing. Nothing at all, haha!"

She grabbed his collar, which than stretched from beneath his iron breastplate. Mimi's mouth opened, but nothing came out. Trooma grinned devilishly.

"Don't play the lovestruck girl" he warned, his mouth still crescented, eyes narrowing. "You don't deserve that role."

Mimi stared at his barefeet. She wondered why he had no shoes when he had bothered to wear the rest of his standard-issue armor. And weren't they cold? Her teeth gritted.

"Fuck you" she replied weakly.

A loud bang sounded. When she turned, she noticed Stylish stamp his black boot next to the doorknob. There was another bang.

"You know the door swings towards you, right?" asked Trooma.

Stylish chuckled.

"Yep. Those were more out of frustration than anything."

"Think we'll have to settle for the bottom floors, Doctor?"

Stylish glanced to him, a hand on his hip.

"Yes. A shame, the view from here would've been nice."

...

As Tatsumi took the last step down to the second floor, he noticed Kurome try to pass him.

"Hey Kurome."

"Hello."

She kept going, her brisk strides making the wooden stairs creak.

"Something's wrong with the third floor doors; if you're trying to get a room above everybody it won't work."

She stopped, the daylight from a nearby window bringing an ominous contrast with her dark uniform. She didn't face him.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"No."

Her feet moved again, pacing up the steps two at a time. Tatsumi watched her ascent until the stairs curved and he couldn't see her. Shrugging to himself, he stepped out of the stairway and into the hall. Soldiers had fixed new lanterns and torches to the walls to replace the old, burnt out ones, but wouldn't light them until the sunlight disappeared. Now that Daidara was out of the way, he needed to finish his last order from Esdeath. Luckily, the person he needed was only just down the hall, leaning against the wall between rooms 203 and 205. He was sipping from his canteen and speaking to a soldier. The man looked up and smiled as Tatsumi approached.

"Hello, Tatsumi!"

The soldier peeked at him over her shoulder with a furtive glance.

"Hey, Run. Sorry to bother you, but Esdeath has a job for you."

"Of course she does" Run sighed. "What is it?"

"Hotels usually have a lot of wine in their cellar. She says you should go and check it out. If you find any, you get a whole keg to yourself."

Run's eyes brightened.

"Excellent! I could sure use some tonight!"

"Yeah, that goes for everybody."

"Alright, I'll get that over with soon enough."

Tatsumi turned, ready to go to bed. The trip toward camp, swimming through snow and then walking back to the hotel had exhausted him.

"Good. I'll see you."

"See ya!"

Tatsumi headed to the room he planned to share with Esdeath. There was still daylight, but through the window he could see the clouds had gotten much closer. They swirled and danced, and he could see the chaotic snowfall without squinting. The giant mass looked like a white beard, and for some reason he imagined the man the beard belonged to was really angry.

Behind him, set against the wall was an empty bed frame. He reminded himself to get their mattress and sheets from the Jaeger's supply carriage. Suddenly a thought shot through his mind.

We don't need them.

It was right, while they needed the mattress, they didn't need blankets. Cold didn't bother them; they could sleep just fine without blankets. However, that idea just felt wrong. Something about sleeping without sheets didn't feel right; as if he would be admitting something to himself that he didn't want said. He had no idea what that something was.

Than he remembered Esdeath used blankets too, and she was also an ice teigu user. He wondered if despite everything, there was a part of both of them that stubbornly wanted to remain completely human, no matter what. It was a surprising thought; Esdeath was always too pragmatic to have such feelings, but why else would she sleep the way she did? Stepping out of the room, he saw Koro, and stopped thinking about it.

"Hi dog."

He bent over to pet him, Koro's small body jumping to place his front paws on his knee. Koro sniffed at him a few times, slowly and deliberately. His beady black eyes gazed into Tatsumi's, tail wagging carefully. Than the dog got off and sat down, eyes never leaving his.

A shiver shot down Tatsumi's spine and he decided to get on with his business. The dog had it's cute moments, but it was still a teigu. It was a weapon disguised as a dog, not some puppy. As Tatsumi turned the corner to get to the first floor ladder, he noticed Koro was still intently staring at him.

The hotel's lobby had been cleared of snow, with all openings to the outside being sealed by Esdeath. Tatsumi stood by her as she did it; noticing her furtive glances to him as she held out her hands toward the empty doorway and the shattered window above it. After a few of these glances she finally asked him. He knew it was coming.

"When will you resume teigu training, Tatsumi?"

She only stared ahead as she spoke. Tatsumi watched a wall of ice fill the doorway from the ground up.

"How 'bout now?" he found himself saying. "I'm tired, but I'll take that hole over there."

There was really no reason to keep avoiding it, he thought to himself. However Esdeath shook her head. If he started using it suddenly after such a long hiatus it would probably kill him, she said.

"We'll condition your body first" she continued. "After a week of that you'll be able to create icicles large enough to kill somebody again, like you used to do when you first retrieved Scar."

He reached next to his leg, pulling out the gun Stylish had given him. It shined obnoxiously in the cold daylight, creating a small, shaking bright square on the ceiling. He was going to give this thing to Wave.

Than Wave died.

You're so useless, you know that?

He put it back in it's holster, the front sight getting trapped in the black leather. He pushed it again and the pistol slid into place. Useless? No, not anymore. He wasn't going to let himself be that way anymore, he was finally going to take what was given to him and protect his friends and comrades. No one else was going to suffer because of his inability to act.

"Regret is one of the worst things in the world, isn't it?" he asked.

Esdeath flicked her gaze to him, face stern.

"Yes. Yes it is."

Outside Tatsumi though he saw wafts of smoke. Just out of sight from the window and holes was a large fire.

"What's cookin outside?"

He thought he heard Esdeath chuckle quietly.

"Horse. Ever had aged horse meat?"

Tatsumi blinked at her. Disappointed, Esdeath shrugged her shoulders and sighed.

"We found some dead horses. Have some horse lovers among the ranks, so..."

She waved her hand in annoyance.

"We burned them."

Several hours later

Run's lips were placed on the wooden mug. Briefly glancing toward the cold tea bag at the bottom, he put the mug back onto the nightstand beside him. This morning he learned the soldier with him was called Anita.

"Did you often yell at your students back then?" she asked, breasts leaning to the side as she pressed her shoulder to the bed's backrest. "You know, 'cause you said you were a teacher and all."

The mug was empty, he remembered. It had been for a while. He shook his head.

"No, I'm afraid I was never good at discipline. My assistant took care of that for me, thankfully."

She flicked away a bit of dirt beneath her; the sleeping bag she laid out on the empty bed frame before retained the debris from a past encampment.

"Really?" she half exclaimed. "All my teachers yelled at me for everything!"

"Probably because you rebelled against everything they said" he chuckled.

"Didn't like any of 'em. But if you taught me back then...I would've done anything for that A, haha!"

She slapped her knee under the thick blankets Run snuck in from one of the carriages. In some rooms nearby, four soldiers shivered in their sleeping bags.

Run shifted his gaze away from her and to the left wall, next to the door. An empty picture frame was set on it firmly, reminding him of some abstract piece that consisted of the frame and nothing else. He wondered what it would have held if there was a picture.

To his right there were two metallic snaps, each one punctuated by a brief orange glow. He looked and noticed Anita lighting a cigarette. She took a draw, exhaled and noticed his stare.

"Wanna hit?"

"No, thanks."

She studied the wall ahead. With the dark azul of winter night and the brief pause of the blizzard's wind outside, Anita suddenly seemed older than she was. She inhaled, the rising dim glow revealing a freckle under the corner of her left eye. Run suppressed an impulse to pull her shoulder-length raven-purple hair and violate her mouth with his tongue. Suddenly the spring in her form returned and she blew out the slowly rising smoke.

"Ever fucked while stoned?"

So it's not a cigarette.

"No, afraid not."

"Wanna try it? I'm sure we both wanna have another go."

The energy in her face made him nod his head. Something rose from his mouth, and he found himself saying yes.

"Cool! Here, take a hit."

He did, fighting the urge to cough. It was the first time he had ever smoked, but he didn't want her to know that. He raised his hand, the other one handing back the joint.

"Hold on, I just remembered something the General wanted me to do" he informed. "Give me ten minutes; I'll be back."

Anita frowned, and he felt his heart sank.

"Oh? Fine, I've got plenty more. Just be back before I smoke all of it, you know?"

"Of course" he replied, rising out the bed. He slid on his underwear and loose white pants. When he was fully dressed with his dagger strapped to his chest, he turned back toward her.

"Nice ass" she remarked.

"Nice tits."

She chuckled, sliding from the covers and crawling toward him on all fours, the joint between her middle and index fingers. The frame creaked with every movement below. When she was close enough she flicked his nose.

"Bad teacher" she purred, "you shouldn't encourage my bad behavior, you know."

Even in the dark he could see her smirk underneath those chestnut-black eyes. He laughed.

"I'll be back."

"Come soon."

When he shut the door behind him, he thought he heard her say "haha, get it?"

Now he had to find Esdeath's wine. He knew spending a few nights at a hotel, though abandoned, would serve her as a good excuse to drink as much of the stuff as possible. He briefly wondered if Tatsumi had ever been drunk before.

There were other members of the convoy wandering around, exploring their new campground. From the conversations he overheard as he passed by, the general consensus was that they were happy to be out of the storm. A few remembered to salute the Jaeger, while the others who didn't didn't seem to care. He didn't mind; even having a powerful teigu like Mastema didn't make him feel superior to anyone.

On the balcony overlooking the formerly snowed-in lobby someone had lit two lanterns. Other than Anita's lighter, they were the first lights he'd seen since it had gotten dark. It seemed that whoever was in charge of lighting the rest of them just didn't feel like it or forgot.

He remembered the blizzard outside and realized the wind had been rather quiet tonight. Instead of it's usual howl it blew with a breath-like drone. It was a relief, the constant wail from before probably would have driven some people mad.

He descended the old, rickety ladder, reminding himself silently to ask Stylish for a replacement. While he didn't think there were any spare ladders in Team Stylish's carriage, there must have been materials to build a new one in there.

Behind the frosted block of wood that must have been the front desk was a door. A few small icicles hung over it, what was left of the larger ones shattered on the splintered wood floor. Something about the way they lay, scattered like debris, made him think of the carcasses burnt to a crisp outside. One had been near the door while the other was on the left side of the lobby, ahead of the front desk. Their hollowed faces were mummified by the frozen mountain weather. The eyeless gazes betrayed what happened when you tread where you shouldn't go...

He killed that thought; now was not the time to think about that. And why did he just have a sense of trespassing? Opening the door, he looked down into the merciless black of the cellar stairs. He would need some light for this. Run went and climbed back up the ladder, snatched one of the lanterns, and climbed down. He reached the cellar door, and not giving himself any time to think, forced himself down the cold, stone stairs, the light swaying as his hand moved.

When one performs as repetitive a task as walking down stairs, it is inevitable that their mind will wander. Run's mind did, thinking about the blizzard, summer, and the dry sizzle of Lambrusco. He wanted to return to Anita's warmth badly.

His little brother was what he used to call a vegetable. At fourteen Roc didn't get out of bed until forced to, preferring to sleep the day away. Roc was also afraid of leaving their small cottage on the outskirts of town. Eventually it got to the point where his parent's stopped fighting it, allowing Roc to skip school and sleep.

"He'll get over it eventually if we don't push him" Run remembered them saying.

The doctors in town had called it depression. Some of them had relayed that it was very serious, and that Run's parents were doing the right thing by going the gentle route. There was nothing else to do, they had said. After all, you didn't hammer a shattered nail.

In those days Run would go days without speaking a word to his brother; he spent much of his time outside at school or running errands. When he did arrive home, Roc was of course, sleeping.

Run hated it. Roc was just being lazy; nothing was wrong with him. If he would just get up and get the fuck out of bed, everything would be fine.

Because of Roc's condition much of the chores fell to Run. Laundry, taking the dog out, and cleaning the house were added to his responsibilities. Run didn't mind at first, Roc was a strong boy; he would get better sooner or later. But one afternoon Run was folding laundry. It was Roc's blue cotton shirt. The dog began barking at the door; it needed to be taken out.

"Hey Roc" Run called, "can you walk Pogo? I would do it, but...I'm busy here."

In the other room, Roc was silent. Run looked out to see him sitting up, staring out the window. Roc was not getting. the. fuck. up.

It was the first and only time Run used violence on family. Run slapped him, noticing how awful Roc smelled.

"It's like I'm taking care of an old fucking man!" he growled, hitting him some more before dragging him by his shaggy, overgrown hair. Roc struggled weakly. The dog barked more.

"Get off me" Roc moaned angrily, pushing Run away.

That did it. Something snapped and Run saw red. With a crude right hook Roc's nose broke. Some blood splurted, and he was wailing. Pogo had stopped her yaps, carefully studying the fight. After some hits, Roc was lying against the red front door, covering his face and screeching. It was an ugly sound in Run's ears. It made him want to hurt him some more, so he slammed his bare foot into Roc's stomach. Roc let out a sound that was between a cry and a cough. Suddenly Run lifted him up by the armpits.

"Get up. Get the fuck up!"

Pogo's leash hung from some hooks on the wall. Run hooked it to the dog's collar and pushed the handle into Roc's chest. It fell back to the ground, blood dripping on it.

The door suddenly opened. Roc fell back, sending his mother staggering as the brown paper bag in her arms crackled.

"Oh my god, oh my god, what happened to you?!" she wailed then shouted.

His mother's widened eyes and parched mouth made Run realize what he had done. He had lost his temper and now nothing would be the same. He took a step back, than another.

"Run. Run! GET BACK HERE!"

He had dashed toward the back door, climbing the brick wall once he was outside. Mother shouted after him as his feet landed on the concrete. Pain snapped through his feet, and he rubbed them. He realized he was barefoot, but that was okay, he'd walked their terrier barefoot before. Rancid guilt rising in his chest, he ran toward downtown, dodging pedestrians and a few stray cats.

In the cellar of the Double Swan, Run rubbed his eyes. He had reached the end of the stairs and was now in a cobblestone corridor. It was terribly cold, and his foggy breath reminded him of a ghost. The yellow lantern didn't reveal much, only the walls flanking him, two wooden beams lining the walls, and a frozen dead mouse five feet away. Beyond that was only darkness. Curious, he gently pressed his boot onto the carcass; it was hard as a rock, though he thought he felt a tiny rib crack under his weight. With nowhere else to look, he strolled ahead, searching every side door he came across. Most were empty, though some held scraps of yellowed paper and rusted weapons. A few rooms had an ominous, musty smell. He didn't stay in those very long.

Eventually his sweating, blackened feet carried him to one of the town's many fruit markets. The owner eyed him suspiciously, but Run walked past. He must have been several blocks away from Roc and mother now.

In a ditch next to the road was a hole. Less people were around, so Run decided to have a little adventure of his own. Bored, frustrated, and afraid to return home, he crawled into the sewer. He had no money to spend the day downtown, and he was definitely not going to sit around and wait for nightfall to sneak back home.

Surprisingly, the drainage pipe didn't smell any different than the world outside. From what he could still see from the remaining sunlight, the bugs were much larger down here than in the streets. The crickets lay in between the creases and seams where parts of the tunnel joined, sleepily watching him.

After his knees started to hurt from crawling the tunnel opened into a wider passage. It was awfully dark, but white sunlight glided through a metal grating ahead. Heart pounding in excitement, he hopped from the tunnel's end onto a platform. The faint sunlight glimmered off stagnant water to his left.

"I did it" he muttered, "I'm in the sewer."

Run didn't know anyone else who had done this. It made him feel special.

Somewhere across the canal water dripped. He continued walking, noticing for the first time the distinct sewer stench. The pipe had been dry, but now that he was next to the water, his nose was in the thick of it. He tried not to breath through his mouth. After twenty seconds of walking, he reached the sunlight. Black moss hung from the grating above, and he heard the metal clink of horseshoes on asphalt and the soft drone of conversation. Something lightened in his heart; the noise subliminally gave him a feeling of bravery, that no matter how long he stayed in the dark stench of this place there was always the sun and sky above to look forward to. Nothing could take away the world outside, nothing could destroy him, not even his brother's depression could stop him if he put his mind to something-

A small black mass lay in front of his feet, just out of reach of the sunlight. He remembered he was barefoot, and stepping on anything sharp down here would result in a horrible infection.

Carefully kneeling down, suddenly wary of where his feet landed, he scrutinized the shape. It didn't bring any new smells, so it hadn't been dead long. The tail and gracefully twisted legs told him it was a cat. Dark blood seeped from the head, and he realized it had no ears.

There was a long dry groan behind him. Nearly jumping, he turned to see a haggard woman looking cruelly down on him from a wrinkled nose. Her clothes were dripping and ragged.

"What are you wearing, boy?" she rasps.

"I-I'm sorry. I'll leave-"

"No."

A filthy, knotted hand shot forth to grip his collar, pulling him with surprising strength. Other than his head leaning back, Run's body refused to move. With her head closer to his, he notices two cat ears stitched to her face, one for each cheek. Dried blood spotted the area around the black cat ears. She groaned again, and he realized the sound is her imitation of a purr. Her other hand tugged at his shirt harshly.

"Kurrr. You shouldn't be wearing such filthy clothes boy, kurrrrr..."

Her breath and body smelled awful, as if the stink from the water was magnified around her. Mottled hand gripping the back of his neck, she made him look into the canal below. A dozen dark shapes floated like masses of hair in a sink. They were more cats. Run failed to suppress the urge to vomit, but found himself dry heaving into the dark water.

"Kurrr...kurrrrr. Why do I wear them?" she said, watching him gag. "I'm a cat, see. And you know what cats do?"

With her hand on his neck and the water below him, he couldn't do a thing to escape. His stomach quickly settled, as if it wanted to run to. Wide-eyed, he curled his eyeballs to look at her. The cat grinned, several teeth missing.

"They eat."

She brought him back to her and chomped on his left shoulder. Run screamed, punching her forehead.

"Get off!" he shouted, ignoring the pain in his knuckles. "Get off!"

Warmth trickled down his arm before he landed a successful hit on her nose. Screeching, she let go. Briefly he was reminded of Soc as he dashed toward the tunnel.

"You look delicious!" she called after him, voice getting closer. "Like a rat! Like a damned rat!"

Something slammed into his back, before the concrete smashed into his sternum. Run gasped, tasting blood. He was hit several times in the back of the neck as he tried to crawl ahead. As he held the hurt spot, the woman turned him over, grinning. Her smell seemed to be everywhere. Pressure tightened around his neck as her other hand fiddled with his belt.

"No! Stop!" he shouted. His voice bounced throughout the damp brick walls.

"Take it like a man, rat!"

She used her waist to stop his kicking legs. When the belt released, she growled a low purr. A new stench filled his nostrils. It smelled of fish.

"Get-get off!"

He hurled a fist upward, not knowing where it would land. Something met his knuckles and he heard a snap. The weight on top left, and he scrambled to his feet. He continued dashing for the tunnel, and when his shaking hands finally reached it, he lifted himself inside, breath pounding against the concrete.

"Fucking rat!" she shouted. "I'm a cat! A feline! I play with my food!"

Run crawled, the rough tunnel grinding against his knees. It wasn't five seconds before he heard her again, her groans getting closer.

"Kurr...kurrrr..."

Run didn't dare look back. He focused on the circle of light ahead, getting closer. Dirt and debris had collected in the crevices of his hands and nails. His knees left light splotches of blood on the tunnel's bottom. However, he didn't pay them any heed.

"Kurr...kurr..."

The cat was getting closer. Something about her purrs seemed more shaken, and violent. Quickly they became gasps of anger.

"Kurr! Kurr! Fuckin' rat! Kurr!"

Just a little closer...

"KURR! KURRR!"

Suddenly the light enveloped him, the spring air gliding through his body. Run had made it. He ran to the first person he saw, getting to his knees and hugging the person's leg, sobbing. His tears and snot stained the man's grey pant leg.

"Help me! Help me, she's there! She's in there!"

The man put his hand on Run's shoulder, genuinely concerned.

"What happened? You okay?"

Run looked back at the tunnel. It was silent and empty.

"She...she was right there..."

The sense of protection he had faded when he was shoved away.

"Brat! You stained my pants!"

"You hafta help me!"

"Shaddup! Ever heard of the boy who cried wolf? Get back to school, self-harming freak!"

The man glared at him than walked away. Still sniffling, Run got to his feet. His knees oozed red from where they were scratched, and his left shoulder was covered in blood. The cat-woman's bite mark would leave a scar for a long time.

As he stalked deeper into the cellar the wind above grew in intensity. Even this deep underground he could hear it. Strangely, it also made the support beams creak. Wiping his running nose on the back of his hand, he pushed open the ninth door, which was missing a handle. It moved back silently, before suddenly collapsing from the hinges. Run let out a yelp in surprise before covering his mouth embarrassedly. He shoved the door off his shoulder, letting it lean against the entrance. When he was sure it wouldn't fall, he began investigating the room.

There was nothing but cobble walls and the flat stone floor. Sighing in disappointment he wondered if the cellar really was empty. Outside the wind groaned. Far behind him a wooden support beam creaked.

When he reached the last and tenth door, the corridor had stopped. It was a dead end. Run reached out and turned the squeaking handle, letting the door hinges screech as he pushed. In the dim lantern light a shadow danced to his left. To his relief, they were kegs. Ahead of him was a multitude of dark barrels stacked atop each other. Inspecting one of the kegs through a small hatch, he found it smelled of fruit. The aroma was crisp, dry, and lively- red wine. Relief washed over him. Now he could get the hell out and get back to Anita.

He turned around, the wind groaning some more. As he paced toward the stairs, he rubbed his nose again, this time with the inside of his shirt. Ahead there was more creaking, which puzzled him. There was no way the wind was able to affect the wooden beams so far underground. He wondered if there was some hidden tunnel that led to the surface, which channeled the wind down to the cellar. That would explain the long, groaning noise.

It sounds almost like a cat...

Suddenly he felt a million fingers caress his skin. Goosebumps shot through his body, and he let out a small gasp. He would not think about her, not now. He would never think about her.

The creaking grew more prominent, almost as if something was swinging from a rusting monkey bar. He noticed the door next to him and wondered which one it was, the fifth one or the sixth.

The wind became unbearable. Now he wanted to run toward the stairs, it didn't feel safe. Plus, the hall was too narrow for his wings to be any use. However, the rational and most listened to part of his mind told him not to, as if out of pride.

What are you, a baby? You checked every room, there's nothing but trash and wine. If you run, you show that you're afraid, that you're nothing but a damned rat.

"SHUT UP!"

He raced through the cellar, dagger drawn in his free hand. As he ran, the way ahead fluctuated from light to dark from the way his arm moved. His fear grew and he tried to keep his lantern hand as still as possible. The wind groaned.

He took the stairs three at a time, making a mad dash for the soft blue of midnight ahead. Now that he was out of the cellar, the creaking was gone, but the wind continued it's noise. Panting like a wild animal, he could have sworn he heard more than just his footsteps. There seemed to be another pair of feet following him, out of sync with his footfalls just enough so that he could barely hear it. The wind purred.

"GO AWAY!"

The blue rectangular doorway was only a dozen steps away now. If he kept going, he might be able to shut the door before anything followed him out.

Hurry up hurry up hurry up-

The second his boots met the flat surface he shoved the door into it's frame, holding his mass against it. He gasped for air, looking around the lobby for anything to block the door with. There was an old chair next to the front desk; he grabbed it without moving too far from the door and set it against it. He paced to the desk and tried to push it towards the door, but stopped.

The door was silent. It didn't swing open, break, bump against the hinges, or anything else. It was still as a mouse.

Run genuinely smiled, lying face first onto the desk. He began giggling like an idiot, wiping the trail of snot flowing from his nose that he had ignored. Of course there was nothing, he thought to himself. Everything was just fine; a-okay.

"Need some help?"

Run jumped from the table, looking up toward the voice. It was Kurome.

"What?" he replied.

"I said, do you need help."

He scratched the back of his head.

"N-no...I'm done, thank you. Just...remembered something funny, that's all!"

The girl nodded her head nonchalantly, tapping her finger against the balcony railing.

"Good. Just checking."

She turned without another word, heading down a hallway to her left. Run climbed the ladder up and walked toward the opposite direction, thinking about what to say to Anita about the wait. Outside the wind grew silent.