[crow]

Ambrose blinked. The man caught their eye and winked at them. “You like the look of my pipe, do you? It’s a gift from an old friend.”

Ambrose had truthfully not been paying much attention to it. But at the man’s words, they took a closer look, and upon closer inspection, the pipe was in fact of a very fine make. Subtle carvings and inlays formed a coiling dragon, wrapped around what looked like a constellation. The inlay was faintly iridescent with glimmering flecks, even in the faint light of the vessel’s lamps.

[crow]

“It must be a fine friend, to have given you such a gift,” said Ambrose.

The old man laughed. “Aye, well, I dare say I’m worth the trouble. Though she might not agree, come to that.” He looked up at the sky and smiled. It was an inscrutable sort of smile, as though he were sharing some sort of… inside joke with someone, though Ambrose couldn’t have begun to guess at what that was.

They found themselves turning their own gaze skyward, though they found no mirth waiting for them there.

[crow]

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The stars,” said the old man. As he spoke, the vessel sounded its signal, and with a creaking groan, it began to move through the waters. “This isn’t a bad place for stargazing, but they’ll be much brighter on the open ocean. One of the highlights of ocean travel.”

“Yes,” said Ambrose. They rather thought it might be the only highlight, but they kept that comment to themselves.

For a long moment, the two of them sat together in silence.

[crow]

At first, Ambrose wasn’t sure what to make of it, but somehow, the man didn’t seem… threatening. They knew better than to trust something so insubstantial as appearances, or even their own lack of instinctive alarm, and yet the sense of it remained: You are safe.

… It was not unlike how they had felt when they had first befriended Ethel.

The thought came unbidden, as did the tears. The hot sting of it behind Ambrose’s eyes took them quite by surprise.

[crow]

They blinked, swallowing against the sudden tightness in their throat, and prayed the man would not notice.

“Oh, child,” said the man in his slow, gravel voice. “You’re a long way from home, aren’t you?”

Of all the things he could have said, Ambrose did not expect to hear this. They turned to the old man, blinking again, then narrowing their eyes. The first tears blurred their vision, and for a moment, they thought they saw… But then their eyes cleared, and it was only an old man, his face weathered and worn, smiling softly at them.

[Hunt Complete]

[crow]

“Who are you?” they said.

“A friend. A stranger. A willing listener, if you would have one,” said the man. Gone was the soft, comforting tone that he had taken, replaced by something lighter, almost mischievous. “Though perhaps it would be easiest to think of me as a fellow traveler.”

The man’s answers raised more questions than answers, but Ambrose could only shake their head. They had expected little less; they had been a fool to ask, and hypocritical besides, given how many secrets of their own they carried with them.

[crow]

“A traveler,” said Ambrose. “I… had not thought to think of myself that way.”

“But are you not?” said the old man, feigning incredulity. “Why, you’re here, aren’t you? And how long has it been since you’ve been settled anywhere?”

Somehow, it no longer surprised them that the man had guessed this. “I suppose you have a point,” they said.

“I know your kind,” said the old man. “You tire of the journey, and want nothing more than to hasten to your destination. Ah, such is youth.”

[crow]

He took another long drag from his pipe, this time exhaling the smoke through his mouth. It swirled out into the night air, and in it, Ambrose thought they could see shapes--- their own face, or Ethel’s, smiling down at them.

“But you see, child, it is the journey that brings us so many things. It tries us, yes, and perhaps sometimes it is almost too much. Yet without these trials, we would be as we were if we had never left: stagnant, untried, unlearned.”

[crow]

At this, Ambrose could not help but smile a small, derisive smile. “Yes,” they said. “What a great deal I have learned.”

“Ho? I sense that you question my wisdom,” said the old man, arching his long, wispy brows at Ambrose. He looked nothing like Ethel--- nothing at all, much older, his features wholly different--- and yet in that moment, he reminded Ambrose of her so keenly that their breath caught. There was something about the light in their eyes, that same playful air, tempered with what had felt to a young Ambrose like an eon’s worth of untold tales.

[crow]

What burdens had Ethel carried, Ambrose had often wondered. Now there was no one to ask.

“I had an old teacher once,” they found themselves saying. “She… was a little like you, I think.”

“A teacher?” said the old man with a laugh. “Not a grandfather?”

“No.” Ambrose had never known their grandparents, but they doubted that they would care to, even now. “This… You called it a journey. I make it for her. I… I must make it for her. But I wish...”

[crow]

“The road is long, and your feet grow weary, yes?” The old man smiled at Ambrose, his weathered face transforming into a map of wrinkles. Slowly, deliberately, like a seasoned hostler approaching a skittish wild horse, he placed a hand on Ambrose’s shoulder. Ambrose had seen him coming, but even so, they expected to have to steel themselves against his touch. They always did anymore.

To their surprise, however, the touch of his hand did not feel like an… an invasion, or even an undertaking, a piece of work that required effort on their part to bear.

[crow]

It felt like the comforting touch of a mentor, or perhaps a friend. It felt like... something they hadn't known in a long time.

The tears that they had been holding back flooded their eyes, burning two hot trails down their cheeks. “Oh, gods,” they said, their voice strangled. The old man said nothing, but patted them gently. Ambrose swiped at their eyes with the heel of one hand, then the back of another, but the tears would not stop.

[crow]

It was as though the floodgates had been opened on some dam somewhere within. They buried their face in their hands, trying to breathe, but inevitably their breathing became ragged with the sobs they stifled against themselves. Ambrose curled up on the box they sat on and wept, and wept and wept and wept.

It had been so hard… They hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t ever allowed themselves to stop and dwell on anything that happened except to plan their next move, because they were terrified--- no, because they knew--- that if they did, they would not be able to go on.

[crow]

There had been so much… So much loss, so many new and unfamiliar things, and so many of those that were frightening.

If they let themselves think about it, they knew where their mind would wander: back to Ethel, back to when life had been simple and clean and good. Hadn’t Ethel promised to show them so many more beautlful things? Hadn’t Ethel promised them that the world was full of wonder?

What, they wanted to ask, was so wonderful about any of this?

[crow]

What had possessed her to do what she had done? Who would even want to live forever in this place, this place that tore away everything that Ambrose had ever loved?

They were scared. They were so, so scared, so out of their depth, and they didn’t know what to do. They pretended… Pretended so long that they almost believed it sometimes. But there was still so much they couldn’t let themselves think about, just for the sake of not falling apart. Like this.

I miss you. I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.

Tell me… What should I do?