Reynard skipped downstairs again and tried to check in the kitchen, although he knew they couldn't possibly be there.

Even before he opened the door that led to the kitchen, Reynard could smell the aroma of bread and meat. The creak of the door made all the cooks turn around to see, because people rarely entered the kitchen.

"Um," Reynard looked around the door, "is Uncle Frank here?"

The kitchen was warm and cozy. A row of stoves with pots of bubbling stew stood against one wall with one cook attending to all of them. The others stood against a counter table, peeling potatoes or chopping vegetables. It reminded Reynard of the way his mother used to cook when she was still stable on her feet. Happy days, those were.

Reynard did a quick look around the kitchen. There was nobody in there except the cooks.

"Erm… Goodbye," he muttered, closing the door. Reynard put his hands on his hips, thinking about his next move. It was unusual of Father to lie about where he was going, so Reynard firmly believed that was not the case. And for Uncle Franke to leave his desk…

Reynard went back to the bar area where people were still enjoying their drinks.

"Hey, Mister..." Reynard said as he approached a man drinking something orange. "Uncle Franke- I mean Franke, the innkeeper. Have you seen him?"

The man frowned. "He's usually at his desk."

"But he's not."

The man's frown deepened. "Ah, I remember. He was supporting another gentleman on his shoulder as he took him out the door. The gentleman looked sick, because he was puking everywhere. They probably went to the nearest health center."

"Okay, thanks very much," Reynard muttered as he ran out the door. The cold winds hit him like a bulldozer. Inside the warm inn, he had suddenly forgotten about the weather conditions outside. Reynard rubbed his hands as he looked both ways on the street, trying to access where the nearest health center was.

"Gartran Health Centre," Reynard remembered. It was the same health center he and the princess had gone to so they could tear off her portrait from the bulletin board opposite the street. Since it was so crowded that day, they went there in vain. Now remembering the princess, it brought a pang of hurt mixed with guilt into Reynard's heart. He felt awful. And now, his father is sick.

He ran all the way to Gartran, not surprised that the street was barren and lonely. But he could hear a lot of noise coming from inside the tall building. The last time Reynard had gone inside Gartran Health Centre was when he had sparred with Lennard and some other pals at his academy, which had resulted in a terrible black eye and a bruised torso.

After taking a deep breath, Reynard pushed open the door and stepped inside. The familiar smell of disinfectants and medicines wafted to his nose, and he winced in disgust. Bitter medicine smells were a dislike of his.

Finally gotten used to the scent inside the health centre, Reynard took a look around and realized the place was exactly the same as it had been when he had last come here. There were rows of chairs all around the front room, and the tall archway that led to the patients' rooms. Against one wall was the front desk with the old mister sitting behind it and writing something a patient relayed in his large purple notebook.

"Hi," Reynard said hesitantly as he approached the desk. The man, without looking up, put a finger up in the air to tell Reynard that he'll be with him in a minute and kept nodding to what the hysterical patient was saying. Reynard waited in line, and soon when the patient turned to leave, Reynard jumped to the front.

"Um, hi. I'm looking for someone who came in earlier," he muttered very quietly because loud voices inside health centers were rude and disturbed the patients. "Could you check in your register for someone named Simon Gradral. Or Franke..." Reynard tried to remember Uncle Franke's last name, but realized he'd never known it in the first place. How strange.

"Okay, I've got a Simon Gradral right here," the old man muttered, his voice starchy and croaky. "Came in half an hour ago. Still here, apparently, since they never checked out." Then he looked suspiciously up at Reynard. "Only relatives can visit the patients."

"I'm his son," he breathed.

"Mm, okay. Room#41. Go straight and then take two lefts. 8th room in the corridor."

"Thank you."

With that, Reynard ran beyond the archway and occasionally turned right or left for incoming patients. Two lefts later, he stood in front of a long row of doors. He walked past each one, counting the doors as he did so.

"Number 37...38...39...40...41!"

He stood in front of the door beyond which was supposedly his father. He prayed it wasn't something too serious, and then knocked on the door. A moment later, Uncle Franke opened the door. A look of surprise passed his face when he saw Reynard standing in the corridor with his hands in his pocket.

Uncle Franke chuckled, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing, then turned his face slightly to the right and said, "Simon, your son's here for you. Come in, then."

Reynard went inside, and Uncle Franke closed the door behind him with a soft thud. There, laying on a thin framed bed lay his father, his skin color slightly green. His eyes were apologetic as they followed Reynard to his seat.

"What happened?"

"He drank," Uncle Frank said plainly as he sat at the foot of Simon's bed. The room was cramped as it was, but the bed against one wall made it even smaller. There was a side table beside the bed on which were several brown medicine bottles with labels on them. Reynard gave them a look and frowned.

"He drank?" he asked, turning back to Uncle Franke. "How many glasses did he drink to make himself sick like this? Someone at the inn told me he was puking everywhere while you carried him out. Is it true?"

"Well..." Uncle Franke and Reynard's father exchanged nervous glances. "Yes."

Reynard sighed and put his face in his hands and held it there for a moment.

"Father, you know you can't handle your alcohol." Reynard's voice was muffled, but Simon still understood.

"I know, I know. And I'm sorry," Simon apologized, leaning forward in his bed. "I just… I won't drink so heavily again. Where's Rosa? Did you bring her with you?"

Reynard lifted his head and shook it. "She's still at home. She told me to get you home in time for dinner, but just look at the state of you. Does your stomach hurt?"

"A little bit," he confessed after much contemplation.

Reynard sighed and turned to Uncle Franke. "Till when is he supposed to be here?"

"The doc advised that he goes home tomorrow morning."

"Then who's going to accompany him all night?"

"I've got to get back to the inn. It ain't gonna run itself."

Reynard's eyebrows snapped together. "But I can't leave Rosa alone at home, too."

"Then..." Uncle Franke put a hand under his chin in thought. "Ask Rosa to spend the night here. You can stay with me, meanwhile. Sounds good?"

Reynard nodded and then looked at his father. His father nodded, too. "Alright, sounds good. I'll go get her, then."

With that, he stood up and bid them goodbye. Finding his way out of the building was an easy task, and soon, he had mingled with the cold air again.

Back at home, Rosa burst at the news.

"Are you joking?" she cried. "Drunk himself sick! My, what a father to be proud of. And you want me to go attend to him all night? Good heavens… What about you?" While she ranted about all this, she had also been running around packing a bag for herself.

"I'll be staying here, but Uncle Franke said he'll adjust a room for me at his place."

"Okay," she muttered, distracted. "Brush your teeth before bed, alright?"

He sighed. "Yeah, yeah."

"And don't forget to take an extra pair of clothes to Uncle Franke's!" she called as she exited out the door. The loud thud of the door echoed through the emptied house, and Reynard finally began to realize how lonely he would be without the rest of his family.

Slowly, he went ahead to the kitchen and arranged himself a meal from what Rosa had left covered in on the counter. There was rice, meat and orange juice. The usual dinner, but it seemed divine to someone who hadn't even had breakfast.

He sat on the dinner table and looked around him, expecting to see his family around him but there was nobody in the house except him. In a sense, it was eerie. The whistles of the cold wind outside and the tapping of branches against the windows made shivers run down his spine as he stared at his food.

"It's better if I go to Uncle's," he muttered as he gobbled down his dinner and set off once more outside, this time donning a thicker jacket and a rucksack with an extra set of clothes.

It was late, so many guests had already gone to bed. Others still sat around the bar area, ordering drinks from the bartender while talking amongst themselves.

He went to the back and discovered Uncle Franke finally at his desk again.

"Ah, Reynard," Uncle Franke muttered as he pulled on his hand-made cigarette. "Here's the key to your room. It's the one next to mine. Go make yourself comfortable and come back down if you want."

Reynard nodded, grabbed the key, and headed upstairs. This was going to be a long, sleepless night.