The wooden floor creaked slightly as Cainan stepped into the post office behind Father Arbogast, the taller man guiding the way. Cainan had of course been here before, but that was years and years ago. The white cat had hoped to avoid actually talking to anyone who might remember him, but odds were that Mr. Lang would. The gray tabby was around the same age as Cainan's parents, and Cainan vaguely recognized him on sight. Of course, he did look older now than how Cainan remembered him.

Just being back in town was starting to feel more and more like a mistake, as the sinking feeling in Cainan's stomach grew harder to ignore with each passing moment. He didn't know what he'd been thinking; of all the places he could have gone, he had to be an idiot and choose to return to Defiance.

Maybe he really should have stayed over in Cottleville, and looked for easier work there instead. But the allure of the familiar was too strong. Well, mostly familiar. The town had changed slightly, but it still had a sense of familiarity whenever Cainan looked around. Everything he saw seemed to stir memories of years past.

And Mr. Lang was no exception. The older cat stared at him with a look of realization, recognition. Cainan knew he ought to, but he didn't smile at the tabby behind the counter as he cautiously approached.

The post office itself was rather small, barely looking larger than a small apartment, like the ones Cainan had lived in when he stayed in St. Louis. Hell, some of them might actually have been bigger. If Cainan had to guess, he'd assume the place used to be a foyer for the house, before it was made into what it was now. At the very least, the floor space didn't feel cramped and the office itself was decently lit by the sunlight that made it through the windows. The place carried the smell that Cainan had come to recognize as the smell of paper. At least he thought that was what it was; he'd visited libraries where that same smell hung around the books.

The interior didn't leave much to look at, though there were post cards, some magazines, and newspapers in a stand in front of the counter. Behind the counter where Mr. Lang was, a door led further into the house, though that was entirely for Mr. Lang and not for any customers.

"Ah, hello there, Father Arbogast… Mr. Wirth…" Cainan's eyes darted to Mr. Lang when he was addressed directly. Cainan's fingers anxiously gripped the hem of his sweater. This was not a good sign; not only did Mr. Lang remember him right down to his name, but he also seemed to address him with considerably less warmth than he did Father Arbogast.

"Hello…" Cainan said hesitantly, his tone stiff. Mr. Lang didn't react much, though Cainan did get a look from Father Arbogast. Cainan averted his gaze quickly and said nothing else, letting Father Arbogast take the lead. The reverend seemed to hesitate. Cainan could feel his stare on him, even if their eyes didn't meet.

"Well, I certainly hope we aren't troubling you, Mr. Lang. Our young visitor here is looking to settle down in his hometown once more. I don't suppose you could use a hand around here? He's willing to work." When the golden-brown cat finally spoke, Cainan relaxed a bit once more, letting his gaze wander around the small shop. There really wasn't much to look at; besides the magazines and papers in the stand, there was a small desk in the corner where Cainan spotted envelopes, blank paper, post cards and writing utensils, all waiting to be used.

Thinking it prudent to seem a bit more interested, Cainan turned his gaze back on Mr. Lang. For the first time Cainan offered a small, albeit somewhat forced smile. A smile that wasn't returned, not even slightly.

"Is he now…?" Mr. Lang fixed Cainan with a hard stare that Cainan found hard to stomach, given that he knew exactly what was going through the older man's head. His yellow-green eyes practically glared into Cainan's, but Cainan did his best to not break eye-contact. "I'm afraid I won't be much help – there isn't enough of a workload here these days. I'm sorry to disappoint, Father Arbogast."

Although Cainan noticed that Mr. Lang didn't sound very sorry, he just nodded. It was also clear that he only seemed to acknowledge the reverend's existence when he spoke. Cainan cleared his throat. "Ah that's a shame. But it's nice to see a familiar and friendly face again…"

Though Cainan could tell Mr. Lang didn't appear to be very happy to see him, he hoped to at least lighten the mood, relieve some of the tension he felt whenever the older tabby looked at him. Father Arbogast seemed to have noticed the tension as well, fixing Cainan with those striking blue eyes of his. He watched him for a moment, before turning back to Mr. Lang and grunting, "Very well. Thank you for your time. We'd best be on our way. Good day to you, Mr. Lang."

"And to you," Mr. Lang replied, though Cainan could tell it was still primarily (if not solely) aimed at Father Arbogast. Not that it surprised him; he supposed he ought to have expected that at least someone would remember him. And perhaps remember the less than ideal circumstances of his departure from Defiance.

In any case, Cainan was grateful to step out of the post office, knowing he wasn't likely to visit it again anytime soon, even if he truly was to stick around. It was strange being back in Defiance and knowing that he couldn't even go to his childhood home. At least he felt as though he shouldn't. A small part of him was curious as to who may or may not be living in it these days. He was also curious whether it looked the same or not. Wherever his parents were, he supposed he couldn't complain about their absence, if he did stay in town.

"Well, thanks for trying," the Turkish Angora half-muttered to the village minister once he joined him outside. Now to consider his other options…

The rest of Defiance was scattered out amongst the fields; with the small centralized area here, there wasn't much else to see besides what they'd already passed. If memory served him right, there was a store nearby as well, but he knew with almost absolute certainty that the store owner would remember him as well.

If the brief visit to the post office was any indication, Cainan didn't think he'd receive much warmth from any of the older residents. He would probably know some of the younger residents, the ones around his own age, though he hadn't a clue how many amongst them would remember him. Defiance had been one of those small countryside towns where everyone knew everyone, however. Maybe he would actually have better luck with the people around his own age. What would they remember of him?

The Wirth family had lived right by a grove near the river, their large garden fenced in by trees. It was where Cainan had lived up until the day when he had left. He hardly remembered exactly when he did run away, but he didn't regret his decision, not even now. It would have been a lot harder to swallow his pride and stay in town if his parents were still around. He was rather glad they weren't; it meant that there would be no confrontation, and it meant he didn't have to come crawling back to them to ask for shelter or food. The very thought alone made him feel slightly sick.

Cainan grimaced at the thought of having to walk up and knock on his parents' front door. He knew he would have had to do that sooner than later, if they still lived in Defiance. After all, it would be rather difficult to settle down here again, and avoid interacting with them completely. The drive from Cottleville to Defiance had given Cainan time to go over a thousand scenarios in his mind. They all usually fell into one of two categories, rarely anything in-between.

Sometimes he'd imagine a heated confrontation that even the neighbors could hear from all around; Cainan's father shouting at him, maybe his mother would even slap him. They'd be upset with him and tell him to get lost and never show his face near them again. Other times Cainan imagined that they'd be glad to finally see him after over a decade. They'd welcome him in with open arms and just be glad the Lord had brought their lost boy home again.

"Is something the matter, young man? What is that look on your face?" Cainan looked up when Father Arbogast spoke in a rather contemptuous tone. He hadn't realized that the distaste his thoughts brought him had also showed on his face.

"Nothing, nothing," Cainan hastily replied, making his face as neutral as he could. Their eyes met. Cainan could tell Father Arbogast was far from convinced, given the way he squinted and scowled at him. At least it wasn't outright hostility, like with Mr. Lang in the post office. Cainan knew he was simply scrutinizing his actions – he could tell the older reverend didn't trust him.

Cainan was no idiot; he realized he hadn't exactly been making the best first impression. The fact that the reverend of the town was willing to do this much for him was more than he deserved. He supposed he would have to go about looking for a job himself for now. If there truly was nothing to be done around Defiance, Cainan didn't know where else he could, should or would go. He didn't want to go back to Cottleville and certainly not back to St. Louis either. Perhaps he ought to head out eastwards instead, maybe go up and down the eastern seaboard…

"Well, I think there's not much use in me keeping you anymore for today… Father Arbogast." Though Cainan knew that it was simply the kind of thing one was supposed to call a reverend – a title – it still felt strange to call someone father when they weren't his parent. "I should just head on back to Cottleville for today, maybe I'll have more luck tomorrow."

"Hold it, Mr. Wirth. I still fail to understand exactly what it is you're attempting here," the older cat said, crossing his arms. He once more fixed Cainan with that searching stare, as if he were inspecting a piece of work for mistakes and imperfections. It was a look Cainan didn't like very much. It reminded him of- "You're not here to start any trouble, are you? Mr. Lang isn't typically like that with people around here. I cannot help but feel as though you're omitting some details."

Cainan had no idea how to explain himself to the reverend in a way that didn't make him look or sound bad. What could he tell him? The truth?

The truth…

The real story would certainly explain a lot, and Cainan knew he probably owed it to Father Arbogast to be truthful and honest. Not because of any sense of pressure given his stature, or the idea that he'd be judged by a made-up higher power, but rather… Here he was, helping him out – at least he was trying to. Who was Cainan to repay that with dishonesty?

"It's complicated…" was all Cainan could think to say for the moment, knowing it wasn't a real answer. He knew for a fact that the older cat would not be satisfied with it.

The golden-brown reverend scoffed. Of course Cainan had expected such a reaction. "Complicated? It sounds to me as though you're simply trying to avoid the question, Mr. Wirth."

Cainan's face twitched slightly. "Just call me Cainan, please-"

"No. I'll address you as I see fit until you start being honest." Cainan glanced around. Thankfully, they were all alone for the time being, but with how loud Father Arbogast was being, Cainan knew it wouldn't be long before they might attract some unwanted attention. The tall, slender cat scoffed down at Cainan once more. "If you wish to behave like an unruly child, I shall treat you as such."

Cainan felt his cheeks burning under his fur and he didn't meet the older cat's eyes, his ears each giving an irate twitch. "Alright, fine, fine…! But not here… please."

Cainan took a few steps away, towards the entrance to Defiance, before he turned, waiting for the slender cat to follow. The reverend still scowled at him, but nevertheless he did follow along. Cainan could tell that the older cat's patience was wearing thin, he didn't even need to say anything.

"Alright, we are all alone out here, now explain yourself," the taller cat demanded as the two turned down a road that would take them around the fields near the entrance to Defiance. Father Arbogast's fluffy, lighter brown cheek fur swayed in the wind as the two of them walked, same with the tufts on the tips of Cainan's ears. He'd had always enjoyed that feeling…

"Don't worry, I was going to," Cainan answered casually. He stuck his hands back into his pants pockets as they walked, left hand gripping his rather light wallet. "Alright, so… When I was a kid and I left home, my parents and I didn't part ways on very good terms. I'm surprised you didn't know. I bet it was the talk of the town at the time-"

"I do not partake in petty gossip," the taller cat almost spat with disgust. He shot Cainan a look that told him just how much he detested the very idea of it, those sky blue eyes looking almost fiery for a moment. "I do not spread words and rumors about people, and I trust the good people of Defiance don't either."

Cainan opened his mouth to contradict Father Arbogast, but he thought better of it when he thought over the response that came to mind. He not only doubted Father Arbogast's claim, but he also wouldn't use that descriptor for the people here. Well, at least he wouldn't, if Mr. Lang was any indication. But ultimately he thought better of it, barely managing to stop himself. It really wouldn't be the best choice, if he wanted to stay here; he'd already single himself out and more or less prove Mr. Lang's cold welcome to be warranted. No, he needed to be the bigger person, for once in his life.

"Right… Well, I'm just saying that it might be why Mr. Lang wasn't all too pleased to see me again." Of course Cainan wasn't going to bring up the real reason him leaving had likely been a minor scandal amongst the locals. At the very least, he wasn't going to, unless he had to. Father Arbogast already didn't seem to trust him or think highly of him; choosing to omit the truth seemed like the lesser of two evils at this moment in time. And it also wasn't lying, Cainan thought to himself, at least not technically.

The two were left in silence as they walked further from the more populated part of Defiance. The countryside roads were indeed rather nostalgic to Cainan, even if being back here did fill him with many very conflicting emotions.

"So I take it you returned in order to set things right with your family then? Was that what you were hoping for?" Cainan had to think about it for a moment, which surprised him. Did he actually want to see them? While Cainan wasn't sure he wanted to reconcile with them, perhaps he had hoped for a chance to talk to them as an adult. He couldn't exactly say he expected it to have gone well, but maybe there was a small part of him that wanted to show them that he'd managed to survive on his own. He could show them that he'd managed to get by without them trying to force how he lived his life. They couldn't control him anymore, he was his own person now- "… Mr. Wirth?"

Cainan gave a light start when Father Arbogast waved a hand in front of his face. "What? Oh, sorry… That just reminded me- In any case… To answer your question, I suppose so. At the very least, I'd want to see them."

The older cat looked at him skeptically, but ultimately he just silently nodded. He straightened up a bit and adjusted his black hat. "I would advise that you don't go poking around your old home. That wouldn't be very proper of you, and I doubt the current occupants would enjoy that very much."

"Of course, I wasn't going to," he almost scoffed. Of course, he wasn't going to mention that a small part of him had wanted to at least look at the large farm house near the river. He wasn't sure he remembered the exact way there, but at least he had a general idea of its location, in relation to where they currently were. While his last memories in that place weren't entirely pleasant, he at least had some good memories of living there. Cainan did suppose it might not be smart to go snooping around on his own; he certainly would've been alarmed if a stranger turned up to sneakily look at his house, then left.

"So what will you do now? Do you intend on going around town on your own? And answer me this truthfully… Do you truly have anywhere to stay over in Cottleville?" the older cat suddenly inquired, hitting Cainan with a flurry of questions, seemingly out of the blue. The white cat stood and blinked as he thought about each question.

"Well… Yes, I'd like to just go around and ask if there's work to be done, I guess. That's probably the best way to go about it, I think… Well, I assume." Cainan hesitated to answer the last question, however. He'd already said he did, but he also didn't want to be caught lying to Father Arbogast's face. "I-… It's fine, I do have a place to stay, but it's not in Cottleville. I'm staying just outside town."

Seeing the way the older cat scowled down at him, Cainan could tell he didn't believe him. His eyes once more bore into Cainan's in a moment of silence. The older cat sighed and shook his head when his gaze finally softened considerably. "Mr. Wirth… Although I still have my doubts about you… If you're in need of place to stay…"

"No! Uh… I mean… No thank you, Father Arbogast." It was bad enough that the reverend was willing to help him find a job, but offering him a place to stay was far more than Cainan deserved. Of course, he did need it, but he wasn't in a position where he was comfortable accepting a gracious offer like that. "I do have somewhere to stay. I just need work till I can afford to live somewhere more permanent."

"I see… Very well then." Cainan still had a feeling he didn't believe him, but the fact that he didn't inquire further for the moment at least put the Turkish Angora's mind at ease. "In any case, young Mr. Wirth, I think perhaps I'll let you go for now. If you are to stick around, I'll try asking around town today, maybe tomorrow as well. And you're absolutely certain you'd be fine with any kind of work?"

Cainan gave a firm nod. "That I am. And I'll return the favor any way I can, if you really want to help me, Father. I really do appreciate it."

As Cainan held out his hand, the reverend didn't hesitate much before shaking it. Cainan offered a small smile. "Well, I ought to, maybe, get back to it, I suppose. I need to take care of a few things. Should I come find you by the church tomorrow?"

"You may. If you're going to look around for work, may I suggest you try with some of the farmers? I imagine most of them might have need for an additional set of hands," Father Arbogast told him before once more adjusting that black hat of his. "But for now, I'd best be on my way. You be well, young Mr. Wirth."

"And you, Reverend." Cainan didn't leave immediately, watching the tall, lean, black-clad figure as he walked away. He was a strange one for sure, but he seemed to have good intentions, even if he was rather difficult to read. While Father Arbogast turned back to take the main road, Cainan continued down the side road they'd been walking, headed for the forested area that bordered a different part of Defiance. Acting as a natural border for some of the fields, it was a small grove at best, but as he got closer, he soon found what had been his home for a while by now.

His black 1922 Lafayette-134 was hidden from view, for the most part. It was the last remnant that Cainan had from his days of living large in the big city. The car was quite nice, and it had been a big investment from his side of things, though these days it looked slightly worse for wear. It wasn't as pristine and clean as it once was, but it could still drive and that was all that mattered to Cainan these days.

It was a lovely car, but whenever he looked at it, he was reminded of what his life had been like, when he felt like he was untouchable, when he felt like he had achieved the pinnacle of urban living. Unlocking the door, Cainan got into the driver's seat, slumping against the backrest. This car was all he had, holding the few belongings he was able to bring with him wherever he went.

Scooting sideways, Cainan laid down on his back across the front seat, staring up at the black ceiling. He'd forgotten how quiet it was out here, away from the city. Everything was so calm, almost to an unsettling degree. Sure, he could hear birds now and then, but it wasn't like the constant ambient noises of the city that he'd grown used to over the past decade.

Should he have taken up the reverend's offer and come stay with him? Perhaps he really ought to have done it, a wiser man likely would have. But if the reverend was already going to try to help him find work, didn't he already owe him enough? Difficult as it might turn out to be, the best Cainan could really hope for was that he might eventually find somewhere better to stay in this small town.

As he reached a hand up to trace circles against the hard, dark car ceiling, Cainan started wondering if perhaps he should actually do what he'd considered for a few weeks now; take his car and drive east till he hit the coastal cities, try to find a new start far, far away from the Midwest.

And yet life had brought him back here to where he was born.

It felt like a cruel sort of irony, returning to the place he had once adamantly sworn he'd never set foot in again. There wasn't much help to seek here outside of Father Arbogast; his parents were gone, and if the experience in the post office was any indication, perhaps he wouldn't be quite so welcome with the locals. Maybe it was all a mistake, driven by some inexplicable sense of nostalgia.

How much could he sell his car for? It was a couple of years old by now, and although it might need a bit of maintenance, it still worked just about as well as the day he bought it… give or take. He grimaced as he thought back on it. In hindsight, he really shouldn't have… but in the moment it had seemed like such a good idea; a car – his car – had felt like a symbol of freedom, like proof that he had accomplished something with his life all on his own.

Cainan didn't know what else he was going to do for the rest of the day. Perhaps he ought to drive somewhere, perhaps actually head out to the nearby farms to see what he could find. He had the other towns all around Defiance he could visit too. But gas was finite, and he hadn't a clue where or when he'd manage to refuel his car. And what little money he had was finite as well. The black vehicle was the closest thing he had to home these days anyway, so perhaps he should just stay there for now.

Sitting up once more, Cainan looked past the backrest at the backseat where he'd stashed his belongings, most of them in suitcases or little boxes. He didn't own much these days – for one, he didn't have room to lug a lot of stuff around on the road. But he had clothes to wear, a place to sleep, some food and a bit of cash – the bare essentials for surviving. For whatever reason, he had kept his radio, however. Just looking at the thing now, Cainan wondered if he could sell that for some petty cash…

"Oh, Lord give me strength…" Abelard sighed to himself as he shook his head after rubbing his temples. Trudging his way back to the church had given him plenty to think about, all revolving around Cainan Wirth. He was a strange one and Abelard admittedly didn't have the best feeling about him. There was something about his presence that gave Abelard a sense of foreboding. Abelard wasn't sure if it was a sign, but every single time he spoke to Cainan, he got a bad feeling inside, like he was talking to some kind of… entity. It was hard to explain, even to himself, but the way Cainan dodged questions and seemed to answer with what Abelard had a feeling was half-truths, only made it all the harder to want to help him.

But even despite his reservations about the younger cat, Abelard felt as though he should.

Cainan, troublemaker or not, was clearly a young man struggling to find his place in the world. Though Abelard couldn't say he'd ever quite been in a similar situation, he supposed he could find it in his heart to sympathize with the younger man. But still, he couldn't shake that nagging feeling in the back of his mind, whenever he went over their conversations in his head…

Looking at the altar, the reverend shook his head again. The altar was elevated on a small platform, fenced in by white, wooden, ornate railing with rounded balusters. An opening in the center of the railing allowed Abelard access to it. On said altar, two large candles stood in copper candlesticks and on the wall above them hung two large, dark wooden tablets with the ten commandments carved into them.

He'd need to figure out what to make of Cainan soon. He had a distinct feeling that the younger cat was in a dire situation, even if he wouldn't admit it. Abelard didn't bring up the idea of groundskeeper at the time. After all, hiring someone to take care of the church grounds was… different. The church was his domain, the house of God. He could not – would not – let just anyone do it.

But was that even true? Surely, he could hire anyone to do it, but perhaps… perhaps it was down to how untrustworthy Cainan had presented himself as. Indeed, the idea of allowing Cainan to take on the job – no, the responsibility – of looking after the grounds seemed like a recipe for disaster. If only he'd been honest with Abelard, perhaps then things might have been different.

Abelard had been into town a few more times that day, but he hadn't seen the white cat around. He'd walked the stretch between the houses a few times in the day, keeping an eye out for him, thinking, pondering. He was surprised he hadn't seen him. Was he perhaps back wherever he was staying? Had he thought better of it and left town entirely? Whatever the case, Abelard wasn't sure what to make of Cainan's strange behavior, while they had been walking together.

But all the same, Abelard couldn't help but wonder about the encounter with Mr. Lang in the post office. He'd never seen him acting that way with people before, and yet he appeared rather cold towards Cainan, at best. Maybe there was something to what Cainan had said, but at the same time, Abelard couldn't be certain. Perhaps the postman was having a bad day – it wasn't so unreasonable to assume.

Abelard was struggling to think of ways he could assist the young cat with his pursuits, when he didn't even know what exactly he was after. It was a strange thing, leaving your hometown so abruptly as a child, then returning a decade later. Abelard had spent his entire life in Defiance, and even in his youth, he'd never felt the desire to leave this small town, at least not for as long as Cainan had. Sure, he had left on occasion, but not for extended periods of time, outside of spending time in other churches before the days when he became ordained himself.

What was the reasonable thing to do in a case like this? Give him a chance to prove himself? Maybe if he got other work around town, then Abelard could-

"Abelard?" He heard approaching footsteps, the sound echoing throughout the vacant, darkening church. It wasn't even particularly late, but already the sun was setting outside. Thankfully, it was only a matter of time before the days would start to get longer.

"Yes?" As the groundskeeper approached, Abelard watched him. He was up there in the years, quite a bit older than Abelard himself, and yet he'd been looking after the church grounds, since before the day Abelard had become village minister. His gait was one that showed that time had not been kind to him, as he had a limp, but nevertheless he still kept working like a man half his age would.

Tomas Wendell was a black tuxedo cat with white forearms, a white-furred face, ear tips and tail tip. His black fur had started showing quite a few specs of gray years ago, the silver hairs standing out very noticeably against the predominantly black fur. He had a lean build, though Abelard knew him to be quite strong; as recently as last summer, he'd seen him lugging branches of fallen trees around and big, heavy sacks holding mulch and the like. Clad in a pair of blue denim overalls over his clothes, the old cat was dressed in a rather humble attire.

"Any luck today?" Wendell's tone sounded hopeful, even despite his deep, gruff voice. Abelard knew he should have made a bigger effort, but as it turned out today, the Lord had only brought him… Well, Cainan. The young straggler had since occupied Abelard's mind for the majority of the day, and not necessarily in a good way. "Did you find someone yet?"

Abelard didn't respond right away. In truth, he really hadn't looked into finding someone. He hadn't even sent letters to any of the contacts he thought might know of viable candidates in the neighboring towns. "No, not yet. I'm sure we'll find someone soon. The Lord shall provide, there's no need to worry."

"Hmmm…" Wendell's tone wasn't all too pleased, but he didn't seem to be in the mood to get into a big discussion over it. The monochromatic cat nodded. "Well, let's just hope the right man finds his way to our humble, little town. I finished with the path to the cemetery. I'd best be heading home now, you take care, Abelard."

After bidding Wendell goodbye, Abelard turned back to face the altar one last time. Sighing, Abelard turned his sights on the beautiful, round stained-glass window up above it. Depicting a single white dove in flight, it was surrounded by shapes that invoked the imagery of a rising sun over the sea; shades of blues towards the bottom half; a rounded silhouette of the sun and its rays in yellows and oranges around the flying bird. Abelard had always liked that window. Even as a small child, he remembered being mesmerized by stained-glass windows. It had been so impressive to him, how people could make such wondrous things.

He closed his eyes, sighed and moved his hand in the cross gesture in front of his chest, before he turned and left the church himself. By the exit, he grabbed a single lantern, which he lit with one of his matches, using it to light his way in the darkening afternoon. He spotted Wendell on the way out, who was headed down the road towards the little collection of buildings that was Defiance. He, too, carried a lantern as he walked. Though he clearly struggled to walk these days, the stubborn old groundskeeper refused to use a cane.

As Abelard took the path that led from the church and past the cemetery, his thoughts drifted back to the soon-to-be-vacant position as groundskeeper… And then they drifted back to Cainan. He grimaced at the thought. He couldn't trust this position to someone who seemed to have so much to hide. Abelard knew that he was letting his personal bias make this decision, but at the end of the day, he was the one with final say.

With hills all around, the flattest land around the church had been designated as cemetery. Here the wild vegetation was kept relatively short, the headstones sticking up from the grass. The older graves were admittedly placed very haphazardly with irregular spacing in between, by earlier grave keepers and priests. There had been no attempt to move them, of course – no need to disturb the dead for the sake of a change that would mostly affect aesthetic and superficiality.

As Abelard made his way to the side of the church along the small cemetery, he sighed.

Cainan didn't seem like a completely bad person, but the way he acted did him no favors. A more honest man was perhaps more suited for the job. And besides, odds were that Cainan wouldn't have the experience or knowhow to be a suitable groundskeeper.

Surely that would make all the difference in the world. At least Abelard thought it very well might, as he moved along the path towards a line of trees. Like most of the fields around Defiance, the place where Abelard lived was also partially fenced in by trees. Even with the sun only starting to set in the sky, it was already getting dark, especially amongst the trees, as they blocked out the last sunlight of the day. Thankfully the lantern could light his way. It wasn't a long walk through the woods, it was a walk Abelard had taken more times than he could count in the five decades he'd been alive. It was a straight path lined with woods on both sides, which had always reminded Abelard of the aisle between pews of a church. Fitting, really.

The woods eventually opened up to a wide field of grassland. The grass here was wild and mostly unkempt, growing up to the height of Abelard's shins. That wasn't to say there was no space dedicated to farmland, far from it. For instance, the sprawling fields around Abelard's childhood home were used to grow corn, like many other fields in Defiance.

Slowly he approached his home. His sister used to have episodes of being very easily startled, amongst other things. Therefore, he always made sure to make himself as visible as he could when approaching his home – it was part of why he brought the lantern before it was even nightfall. Walking along the lonely path up to his home, Abelard was plainly visible from a distance. Things had been getting better for her the past few years, but Abelard still took extra care not to startle her.

As he approached the three-story house that he'd grown up in, Abelard could see a single figure watching from the window, the telltale outline of his younger sister, Elsa. It was a large house with many rooms, and it even had a basement, which now served as a chapel and embalming room.

Abelard eventually reached the large stone sign out front. The plot around the Arbogast Funeral Home was lined in by a short, white fence, and the premises included a small shed off to the side of it. The backyard held a single tall tree close to the main house, while smaller ones stood around the surrounding area.

The building itself was old, a large farm house with an exterior of grayish beige planks. The ground had steps leading up to the front porch, which ran along the front and the sides of the house. White railing led along the steps and flowerbeds that were usually so beautiful in summer lined the front porch. Above the porch, a similar balcony stretched along the outside of the first floor, including the turret that overlooked the front-yard with its many windows. The turret reached all the way to the ground, the part that was attached to the first floor serving as part of their parlor. At the very top of the building, the house also had a few dormers with windows overlooking the front yard. The house had two chimneys, one of which was currently giving off smoke.

Stepping onto the porch, Abelard heard the creaking of the chains suspending the swing seat to the right of the parlor door, a familiar, ambient noise to him. Throughout his life, Abelard had found himself seated there many times. As a breeze swept by him, Abelard was also greeted by the sound of the wind chimes hanging off the ornate railing of the balcony above. He quietly made it past the swing seat and unlocked the side door, which was the one they primarily used. The parlor door was mainly for business relating to funeral services.

Abelard stepped into the small foyer, which was dimly lit, the scent of food hanging in the air. In the foyer, doors led to the living room and to the hall that connected the parlor to the rest of the house.

Closing the door behind him, Abelard removed his hat and hung it on the coat-tree by the door, before he put out the lantern he'd carried and set it down on the floor. He sighed as the slender figure of his sister Elsa appeared in the doorway from the hall.

Fourteen years younger than Abelard, they both had a strong family resemblance, from their apricot fur, down to their bright blue eyes and even some of their facial features. Elsa's long, blonde hair was tied into a neat ponytail, and she wore a simple blue dress with a white collar and a pattern of tiny dots of darker blues all over. It had short sleeves, and it contrasted quite a bit with her golden brown fur.

"Welcome home, Abelard," was the greeting she gave him. Her neutral expression often times made her appear disinterested in what was going on around her, always looking so calm, unbothered, almost bored. It was a trait Elsa had had for most of her adult life, so Abelard was very much used to it. "How was your day?"

"Fine, Elsa. It was… Fine, just…" Abelard rubbed his temples with the fingers of his left hand. He sighed. "I just have a lot of things that need dealing with."

"So, you didn't find a new organ player or groundskeeper? Is that what's troubling you?" It wasn't a surprise to Abelard, Elsa knew him enough to read him quite easily, and she was far from ignorant to what was going on in Abelard's life.

"There's indeed that…" Abelard removed his jacket as well, hanging it under his hat. "It's just more for me to think about, and on top of that, now we have a young troublemaker running around town."

"Really now?" she asked in a low, yet surprised tone. Always soft-spoken, Abelard couldn't remember the last time he'd heard her raise her voice – as far as he recalled she'd never even done so in their youth. "What kind of troublemaker? Vandal? Or… Marigold?"

"No. No, he's a different breed of troublemaker – he's… something else. It's a lot to explain – and I'm not in the mood right now. Perhaps over dinner. Where's Bobby? Out back?" Elsa nodded without saying a word, as usual looking almost bored. The blonde cat simply turned and quietly made her way back to the kitchen, her footsteps so light she may as well be sneaking around. Abelard made his way to the living room past the staircase. The house hadn't changed much since the days when their parents were still around. There were still some of the same pictures and paintings on the living room walls, and the room still held some of the same old furniture that had been there since Abelard and Elsa were children.

The living room was where they had one of the fireplaces, which helped keep the house warm in winter. Windows on either side of it showed the area where the shed was, and a single window on the right side of the room also showed a view of the front porch as well. Abelard could still see the swing seat in the dim light, even as it progressively got darker and darker outside. On the opposite side of the room, there was a door leading out to the backyard, which was often left open in summer.

A coffee table rested in the center of the living room in front of the fireplace, on top of a dark brown old-world carpet with intricate, white patterns woven into it. On the left side of the table was a large armchair that both Abelard and Bobby – Elsa's husband – enjoyed sitting in, while on the opposite side there was a large couch.

Abelard sat down in the armchair in front of the crackling fireplace and sighed. He let the warmth wash over him as he found himself relaxing, finally. He'd barely closed his eyes before his thoughts drifted back to Cainan once again. Where was he at this moment in time? Where was he really staying? He hadn't convinced Abelard that he had somewhere nice to stay – or really that he had anywhere to stay at all.

Opening his eyes, Abelard glanced out the nearest window at the darkening garden where he could still see the outline of the tall tree that had been there since before he and Elsa were born. He got up and walked to the window, looking out at the dark garden.

Stupid boy.

Abelard hoped he wasn't out in the cold without shelter. That was the last thing he wanted for anyone, even someone as dodgy as the young Turkish Angora…

Laying on the front seat of his car, Cainan tossed and turned, trying his best to get comfortable. The old blanket he had wrapped around himself could only do so much for warmth and comfort. His car didn't retain heat very well, so it was his best shot at trapping heat in the cold spring night. Every second Cainan laid awake was another second spent regretting not taking Father Arbogast up on his offer; each shiver and shudder a reminder that he'd chosen this for himself.

Perhaps a strange sense of pride; perhaps a sense of guilt over already owing the older village minister; whatever the case, Cainan was reaping what he'd sowed now. He closed his eyes tightly and turned again till he could look out the windshield, up at the dark, but starry sky above the trees, as much as he could see of it at least. Opening his eyes, he looked up at it, a beautiful sight that he might have appreciated more, had he been more comfortable.

Cainan sat up, blanket around him as he reached down to the floor between the seat and the windshield. Pulling up his jacket, he put it over himself while still wrapped in the blanket. It didn't help much, but as he sat there, he leaned forward and let his eyes wander up to the sky above once more.

A nostalgic sight; the stars above Defiance were as beautiful as he remembered them. Granted, he could still see those same stars elsewhere, but it was the memories they were tied to; him gazing up at the sky from his childhood bedroom, learning some of the easy to find constellations and seeing the full moon casting its mysterious bluish glow over the world at night.

But Cainan knew he'd be fine; tomorrow everything would be better, hopefully. With any luck, tomorrow would bring new opportunities – opportunities that he was willing to go looking for himself, even if it would take him all day. He had to find something, anything better than living out of his car like this.

Tomorrow is another day, Cainan thought to himself, closing his eyes again as he laid down for another attempt at sleeping. Tomorrow is another day…