Patience’s status progressed through the following days. Save for a couple of scalp-aches, the girl felt good. She spent her time soaking in Anax’s company. They made idle conversation in the garden, tracking Rosamund’s chicks. They bantered while preparing a vegetable soup. His voice was arresting, gravely, and rich; although it was inhuman, she came to enjoy it. Even in complete silence, Anax became less and less of a stranger. Patience grew more accustomed to his unique physiology, her heart rate no longer elevated any time he unexpectedly formed limbs or tendrils. He was behaving himself, mostly, and seemed to now be approaching this as more of a partnership rather than a domination of his host. She came to trust him.

“There was mention of a spring festival,” said Anax.

Patience halted scrubbing a pan that had contained her dinner. Her shoulders drooped. “What of it?”

“Can we go? I would very much like to see it,” asked Anax, restraint and care in his voice.

“It’s—it’s been a while since I’ve gone,” said Patience. “I haven’t had anyone to go with in a long time. My parents—” Her voice wavered.

Searching for words, she stared out the window above the basin. Only there were no words whispered in the breeze rustling through the trees. Her eyes fell on the moonlit path leading up toward the road. A thousand celestial candles glimmered against the velvet sky, jewels enticing the girl go out and seek them. The dreamy blue scene called out to her, inviting her to discover the mysteries awaiting beyond the road. Anax was the push she needed to leave her comfortable rut. She owed it to him. To herself.

“Please,” he said.

Patience forced a smile, “For you, I’ll try. Though I can’t promise my scalp won’t hurt the morning of.”

During the next two days, the girl busied herself with housework. Free from cramps, she hurried from room to room, sweeping, cleaning the windows, dusting the taxidermy. Each night she fell asleep dreading the coming morning until it was the day of the spring festival. Her scalp failed to bother her at all.

“Feeling up to it?” asked Anax.

“Yeah. Let’s go,” sighed Patience.

She donned an embroidered smock and light linen pants with faded grass stains from the last festival she wore them to seven years ago. Her honey eyes held fast to the hallway mirror as she checked her appearance and fussed with her braid. After a while Anax intervened, smoothing all the stray hairs away. The girl expressed her gratitude. Finally, tucking a canvas sack under her arm, she and Anax set out on the hour-long sojourn to Keaton.

Patience did indeed feel well enough physically to attend the festival. However, she was not as sure about her mental preparedness. Old wounds began to tear open bit by bit. There had always been a stigma against the children from the countryside who came into town for school. It was only intensified if one looked particularly different from the other children. Most of her classmates had simply ignored Patience, avoiding any engagement. A couple did shoot snide remarks whenever they were out of earshot of the instructors. Yet a few others greeted her with perfunctory politeness, as respectable young ladies should, young ladies such as Serafina. As they grew older, the distance between Patience and all of her classmates increased. Patience was relieved when her studies came to an end and she could spend the majority of her time out of the public eye.

Her parents had always been a cushion for her, a bridge for her social life. But now she felt further than ever away from the normalcy of the townsfolk. Her muscles seized at the thought of possibly seeing everyone she once knew in school gathered at the festival, living happy lives with new families. The spring festival was largely an event for families and couples, and currently Patience did not have much of either.

“Anxious again?” asked Anax.

“Yeah …” Patience admitted. “Everyone will be out for the festival. I run an even greater risk of seeing people I know than when I usually go into town.”

“As I said before, let them talk.”

“It’s not you this time …” sighed the girl. “I just …”

Anax placed a reassuring tendril on her shoulder.

She sniffed, “It’s difficult seeing people I grew up with enjoying their lives with their loved ones.”

“I see,” said Anax plainly.

Patience continued to walk down the dirt road and came upon the shapes of houses in the distance. As they approached, she began to dawdle. The girl nearly drew to a halt when Anax spoke again.

“Then pay them no mind. Focus on the festivities instead. Focus on things that bring you joy.”

“It’s not that easy—”

“It is. Keep your eyes on the sights, not the people. I can help,” said Anax, wiggling a tendril against her neck.

Patience broke into a smile as she realized Anax was trying to comfort her in his own way. He was right. There was so much at the festival, surely she could keep herself distracted. Memories of bountiful floral arrangements, colorful merchants, sumptuous treats, fanfare, and energetic performances bloomed in her mind. She would indeed like to experience all those things again. Her feet picked up their pace once more.

Nearing Keaton, signs of festivities began to appear. Houses adorned their front doors with streamers and paper decorations. People dressed in bright dresses and suits inhabited the streets. They chatted and shared pastries while casually meandering toward the town’s park. Children with flowered crowns and jam-stained cheeks ran around with their dogs. Everywhere spring burst forth, the first hearty splashes of color since the sullen winter.

Once over the bridge, music drifted from the town center. Lilting over wooden stalls, the twittering melodies embodied the birds to which they paid homage. Fragrant smells wafted between alleyways. Crowds of merchants shouted, hawking their floral products to interested customers. Among them were a few witches, dressed in their eccentric garments. One had a pair of stuffed rabbits mating upon her head. Patience felt a little less conspicuous.

“So much going on!” awed Anax.

“The spring festival and winter holidays are the biggest events of the year. Religious, spiritual, or secular, everyone celebrates. It’s fun. People enjoy themselves,” sighed Patience dreamily.

Anax gazed up at the colorful ribbons wrapping around street lamps topped with seasonal bouquets. The candied environment was enhanced by vibrant streamers stretched between the windows overhead, casting a rainbow web over the plaza. Children with toy horns squealed alongside their professional brass counterparts marching up and down the cobblestones. A myriad of colors assaulted their eyes and a cacophony of sounds blasted their ears, but it was all in good fun.

The girl wound between festival-goers, browsing the street stalls. She purchased a small bottle of perfume from a witch who complimented Anax. Forgetting himself, Anax nearly replied before Patience curtly cleared her throat. The rumpus surrounding them was enough that the witch did not hear and Patience stole away to the next stall. A maze of people and kiosks spread across the square and continued through wider streets, proving a challenge for Patience to navigate toward the park.

Herded by bustling bodies, Patience had to go the long way around which led her to make a couple of purchases. Shunning the bouquets offered at every corner, the girl instead opted for a few tulip bulbs. Much like how she viewed the trophy hunting of animals, seeing the brilliant blooms around her cut down in their prime left a sour tinge in her mouth. However, animals could be preserved with the skills of people like her father and still look alive. The most anyone could do with flowers was dry or press them into faded husks.

At the end of the street, a wizard had set up a tent offering medical examinations and prescriptions. A long line formed along closed business entrances, full of people getting over their lingering winter colds or coming into their springtime sneezing. Wizards were a rather rare sight to see in these parts, as they usually remained in the cities to serve a larger community. Or if they were engrossed in a particular discipline, they would normally live in the area convenient to their studies.

Just as uncommon a sight were physicians. Keaton had no resident doctor. The closest one lived in Haverston, and being the sole physician to serve the entire county, he was often difficult to reach. As for hospitals, there was one in Piedmont in the county over, but traveling there was long and slow. Barring anything dire, people made do with home remedies, prayers, and bottled tonics, or took advantage of traveling herbalists and witches. People in this region were lucky if they ever got a hold of a licensed professional doctor or wizard.

Patience gazed at the wizard’s tent. Under the tarpaulin, she had parked a wagon with many drawers built into its body. A small table sat with a tray on top holding different medical devices, some of which shone with a magical glint in the shade. At the moment the wizard was looking over the scalp of an old woman, possibly for lice. Patience felt her own scalp itch at the thought. She wondered if the wizard might have a salve to soothe her burn, but the length of the line deterred her. This was still the spring festival, after all; there was merriment to be had.

Eventually Patience stopped by a meat pie shop where she bought a duck hand-pie. She was determined to save it until she reached the edge of the park. One could barely see the grass hidden under a sea of picnic blankets and spreads of delicious meals. Families and couples from all over town and the surrounding countryside had congregated to take in the crisp spring air and give their attention to the large wooden stage in the middle of the lawn. It currently hosted a band and group of dancers in Wendish folk dress.

Patience swallowed and took Anax’s words to heart. She would not search the crowd for faces she grew up with, instead she would focus on finding the perfect spot to watch the performances. Winding around the nests of families, the girl spotted Mrs. Laurence seated with her husband. The dressmaker’s large hat always announced her presence at spring festivals. Every year, she decorated her hat with dress trimmings, constructing them into large flowers and butterflies. They locked eyes across several families and waved at each other.

Patience skirted around the crowds, eyes darting to seek out a patch of unoccupied grass. Nearer the edge of the park, she noticed the Wells brothers gathered with their families. The elder brother sat on a stool, unbothered by a small girl placing wildflowers in his curly salt and pepper hair. The younger brother leaned against a tree, a piece of straw in his mouth, hat dashingly askew. A part of Patience wanted to greet them, but they were absorbed in conversation with their loved ones. She continued on her quest.

“All these family units together in one place …” Anax murmured.

“There aren’t any large get-togethers of your kind?” asked Patience.

“Families and bachelor bands will share alliances and meet, but there is not much of a community other than your two or three closest neighbors or friend groups. Any gathering as large as this … fights are sure to break out.”

“Guess being a socialite isn’t in your nature either,” said the girl looking down to her arms as she continued stepping her way around.

At last she came across a vacant spot. Patience settled in, crossing her legs. It was just far enough away from the stage to be clear of eager children, but still close enough for an unobstructed view. Patience bit into the pie that was still warm between her palms. The savory duck melted in her mouth. She daintily lapped up the gravy dripping from the opened crust before it fell onto her hand. Money well spent.

The folk dancers finished their routine to a round of applause and the spring maidens began escorting them off the stage. That was their duty, to help acts on and off; they also would star in their own elaborate dance once the sun set, kicking off the night parade through town. Patience spotted Serafina guiding a suave flutist down the stage steps. Even from the distance, Patience could see the glittery look the maiden gave the man. He quite obviously fell for her charms, a wide smile between his cheeks. Patience rolled her eyes. She wiped her hand of grease on the dewy grass.

Mrs. Laurence did make a nice dress for Serafina, she will confess. It kept the usual spring maiden colors, but stood out amongst the other maidens’ garments in its design. Light blue and green silk flowed from a cream bodice with white lace wrapped around the sleeves and chest. Fabric butterflies clung to the waist and skirt, giving life to this threaded vision. Serafina’s glowing blonde locks flowed down her back, crowned with a halo of fresh wildflowers and ribbons. This living effigy of spring skipped to escort the new set of performers.

The next act to come on stage was Keaton’s Baptist church choir. Patience noted a couple of witches in the audience respectfully applauding a welcome along with the rest of the crowd. Although not religious herself, Patience did enjoy some of the hymns they sang for the melodies alone. A pleasant act all around, they were well-received.

Between acts, Patience casually glanced around to take note of any attractive men she spotted, ignoring families that accompanied them. Nearly sequestered for the past five years at home, Patience had never spent much time fancying men, or anyone for that matter. And without any real opportunities to fraternize, she rarely imagined what it was like to be intimate with them. But Anax had awoken something in her. She liked what Anax did with her. She wondered how it would be with human men.

“Are you hunting?” Anax snickered.

“I’m enjoying the view,” Patience said, feeling grateful for Anax. He shielded her burn from the singeing sun without aggravating it and led her to forget it was even there. The skull also hid her hungry ogling from being caught.

Brass music fluttered through the air, performed by the Deutschverband ensemble from Haverston. It was a group comprised of part-time musicians, unified in their shared heritage, but they played as well as any professional band. They were a featured guest this year, as they normally performed at the larger town’s own festival. Patience had heard the festivities there were grander with many of the large businesses as sponsors. But there was something to be said of the quaint production in Keaton. It was a draw to even some of the citizens of Haverston who sat on stools on the lawn, careful to avoid soiling their prim outfits.

The sun soaked into Patience’s skin, providing warm comfort from the cool spring lawn. Eyes leaping from man to man, Patience settled on the ones appealing to her. Without the presence of her parents, she felt free to indulge in herself for the first time in her life. One boon of being completely alone was the absence of the prickling presence of another person. It was constricting at times, being under the scrutiny of others, even loved ones. No longer did Patience have to act properly, nor mind her manners through the waking hours even away from the public eye. She truly was her own woman now.

Patience’s creative romp ended when the ensemble finished their act and the bassoonist stepped down the stage and brought Serafina up. The man was inoffensive in appearance: generically handsome without any sharp or distinguishing features. His doe eyes glistened as he held Serafina in his arms. Separating, he then dropped down on his knee. Patience’s stomach sank. Serafina’s lips did not need to be read. Her elated shriek pierced the air as she leapt into the arms of her new fiancé. The young couple’s parents flocked to them, making joyous noise. Numerous people cheered and clapped at what just transpired.

Despite knowing better, Patience succumbed to the jealousy welling in her heart. Her fists grappled the grass. A sense of loneliness overwhelmed her. All the people in the park disappeared in a haze. She only saw her knees trembling in the vastness of the empty world around her.

“Why must everything be so perfect for Serafina?” she wheezed through her clenched throat. “Everyone loves her, and now she has another to live out her life with.”

“You have me,” rasped Anax.

Patience sniffed, dabbing her nose with the bag containing the day’s purchases. She placed a hand on Anax’s jaw.

“I can make you feel better if you want,” he quietly suggested.

Patience choked out a chuckle. She sat very still.

Anax cheekily shot a tendril down her smock, squeezing her breast. Alarmed that someone might have witnessed that, Patience stiffened and rolled her shoulders hoping to convince any phantom observers the tendril was a trick of the light on her sweat.

Relaxed again, she angled her lips to blow a puff of air into the underside of Anax’s snout. She did not know why she did that. At that moment, she had wanted to kiss him; but circumstances forbidding, her body invented a gesture of its very own.

“What was that? I liked it,” Anax purred.

“I’m not sure, but we can make it an ‘us’ thing,” said Patience.

Us. It was true. Amongst all these other couples upon the lawn, Patience felt a bit less lonely now. In the barren world around her, a light shined. It was not a sun. It was the orb of Anax’s eye, right over hers. Wiping away some of the spittle on her lip revealed a smile on Patience’s face. Even if her relationship was not the most conventional, it was real. Anax was here.

“Make your hos—life-donor feel better, then.”

A lascivious chuckled thrummed at the back of Patience’s head. “Let’s find a secluded spot,” he growled.

“No. I don’t want to chance anyone seeing me! There are too many people outside,” Patience hissed. The middle of the open lawn was a worse option, so she stood and began winding through the attendees toward the edge of the park.

“Then we’ll just have to get home.”

The girl never thought she would hear Anax expressing interest to go home while they were out. He must enjoy playing with her body immensely to pass up seeing and hearing new things. His lambent vapors tickled down her body underneath her clothes. Patience smirked and felt her legs tugged into a fast march.

“All right! We’ll leave now!” she whispered. With a final glance back to the stage, the girl put the festival behind her and looked forward to a pleasant afternoon.

Patience hurried up the road leading home, Anax’s vapor flailing in the wind. Despite the long, tiring trek, the girl bolted toward the front door the moment her worn silver gray fence came into view. Crossing the threshold, tendrils burst forth from Anax’s mantle and pulled off the clothes that hung between him and his prize. Before she could even put down her bag, Anax had already penetrated her with two of his coils.

“Really? Here in the parlor?”

“I couldn’t wait any longer! The taste of your sweat, the warmth of your skin! I couldn’t!” Anax whined. A solid muscled body formed behind and readied itself to mount her on the oriental rug. Anax thrust deeply into her entrance, extruding a high, exasperated moan from Patience.

“Hm hm hm! That’s my pet!” teased Anax.

“Did you have to start so roughly?,” she panted, largely from the exertion of the walk.

“This was what you wanted, right?” Anax huffed and puffed as he fell into a steady rhythm. His smoky ropes grasped tightly around her waist. She bucked into him, enjoying his firm hold. They continued to writhe together in front of the fireplace long enough for the sun to start dipping in the sky. The trip to Keaton and back within just a few hours tired Patience, however she would find no rest in the hands of Anax.

“Mmph, Anax … are you getting there?” Patience voiced.

“Huuh, just a few more … “ Anax grunted.

Just then two knocks resounded from the front door. Both Anax and Patience froze in place.

“What? No one ever visits you,” Anax grumbled with a curt thrust.

Patience stifled a moan. The knocking persisted. Her eyes flashed to the cutout of the sky. She calculated that it was dark enough that they could not be seen in the unlit parlor should the visitor look through the uncovered windows.

A voice drifted from beyond the door, “Patience?”

“It can’t be,” the girl whispered.

Patience craned her neck. In a gamble she raised her voice, “Schuler?”

Muffled, the voice replied, “Yes!”

“My god, it IS him!” she breathed. Patience sat up in a hurry to collect her clothes, but Anax put a stop to that. He pushed her back down to the rug.

“Not so fast,” he growled. After a few more pumps, he released. “All right, go on.” He dissipated his form to be no more than a simple skull atop Patience’s head.

The girl stood, feeling quite indecent. She grabbed the throw from the sofa and wrapped it around herself. Unable to bear making the man outside her door wait any longer, she leapt to the front entrance and turned the handle.

With its final blaze of the day, the setting sun illuminated a familiar face. Standing on her doorstep was a trim man, his black, back-swept hair streaked with silver. A soft smile beamed under a sparse mustache. He brought a hand up to stroke the whiskers on his short, pointed chin. The golden light brightened his normally dark blue eyes.

“Patience!”

“Schuler! You’re back in town! And you came to see me!” the girl exclaimed.

“Of course!” He reeled her into a hug. “I thought you’d be home during the spring festival. Still collecting skulls, I see,” he teased, relinquishing her from his arms.

“Oh, aha. This. Right.” She gestured at Anax. “A special piece I acquired not too long ago.”

“Well, I came by to tell you we finished our western tour and now we’ve got a place to call home! They opened a new theater over in Haverston and signed Celeste Hargreaves for a three year contract! We’re now the resident band!“

Patience’s jaw dropped. A cool finger of a tendril began to snake its way down the nape of her neck, heading straight toward her bottom half.

The girl sputtered, “That’s great news! I’m very happy for you!” She pulled the throw tighter around herself.

“I’m renting an apartment in Keaton, since it’s between you and Haverston. So you’ll be seeing a lot more of me.”

She felt the tendril insert itself. Patience’s eyes flew open and she cleared her throat. Schuler knitted his brows.

“Are you ill? Keeping warm? You seem awfully flustered and sweaty,” Schuler fretted.

Patience rubbed her knees together. She stammered as the tendril wriggled inside, “Oh, I’m a little under the weather. Perhaps we should arrange to meet another time?”

“Absolutely! I was planning on inviting you over, anyway. Here is my address.” Schuler passed her a slip of paper. “Please visit whenever you get the chance. I’m off all day Mondays and Tuesdays. Rehearsals and shows don’t start for another week, but I’ll be moving stuff from storage to my new place and sorting things out in Keaton. ”

“You were keeping your things in Mr. Wells’ stables while you were on tour, right?”

“Yeah. Regardless, I guess you have a good chance finding me at home all this week. Maybe you’ll feel better in time for a visit.”

“Body willing!”

“Great!” He bowed his head. “I—” The pair locked eyes as Schuler searched for words.

Patience smiled at him.

“I’m just glad to be close by you once again,” he hemmed.

Patience grinned a bit wider and feigned a cough. “Me too! I’ll be seeing you!”

“Right.” Schuler shot her a crooked smile. “You rest up now!”

“I will!”

Anax plunged deeper. Had the door not been there as a crutch, Patience thought she would drop onto the floor. She waved Schuler off and watched him trot to his motorbike leaning against the front fence by the road. As soon as she was certain he was out of earshot, she slammed the door shut. Her back slid down against the door, Anax’s sole tendril pushing her insides over the point of satisfaction.

“So who was that?” asked Anax while watching Patience clean herself.

By now the sun had set and the rooms were illuminated by lamplight. The girl paused, letting her washcloth unfurl in the bowl of water.

“Schuler … “ The name rolled over Patience’s tongue like a candied sweet and tasted almost as nice. She grasped her washstand with a wet hand. “When my parents became very feeble, he would come to help fix things around the house … and he’s probably the only man ever to show any interest in me.” A faint tinge of red spread over her nose. “He’s asked for my hand in marriage, and my parents gave their blessing but …”

“Do you not approve of him?”

“No. I like him immensely. We get along very well,” said Patience. The washcloth lumped against the side of the bowl, mimicking some pathetic sea creature.

“Then the problem?”

“He’s much too old …” Patience sighed. She resumed sponging her body with greater vigor. “I don’t want to lose more people I love so soon. The time I had with my parents felt so short-lived. Bouncing around the garden as a toddler … running from my mother to my father … it only seemed like yesterday.”

Finished, she took the basin to the kitchen, dumping the dirty water into the sink. There was no appetite for dinner tonight. Turning on her heels, the girl stomped to the back of the house to the mudroom. She threw the dirty cloth into a basket to be laundered later. Upon her return to her room, she stopped at the hallway mirror, pleading into the glass, “What am I to do if I marry Schuler and in an instant I’m beside his deathbed?”

Anax paused for a moment. “But that is your mortal life.”

Patience entered her room and dressed in her nightgown. “I’d rather live my life as a spinster than a widow.”