Nuzzled into the warm covers of her bed, Patience awoke and noticed the serenity outside her window. The rain had stopped and a pale, warm light penetrated the glass. She sat up with a wide smile and jumped to get ready for the day. The clouds were lazily scuttling away, allowing the sun a small peek at the town below to illuminate the puddles on the ground. Desperate to see the ocean, Patience headed toward the shore.

The girl stood atop a sand dune, enjoying a light breeze that wound through the blades of grass bursting from the hill. She ran onto the beach to stomp in the sand and skip around the incoming waves. While it was not nearly as freezing as yesterday, Patience refused to wade in deeper than her calves. She had no swimming wear and only packed so many clothes. Patience would have continued to shuffle through the breakers had her rumbling stomach not interrupted. She paused to eat at a coffeehouse on the boardwalk before meandering over rocks to explore the tide pools.

Each little basin held a feast of shapes and colors to distract the eye. They were only a small sampling of the treasures the ocean contained in its vast depths. Anax dared to touch a few of the odd spiney things, only to be reprimanded for his curiosity. Patience laughed whenever his tendrils jerked back in pain. But the pain was not enough to deter the skull from his survey.

“What if you get stung with venom?” asked Patience, suddenly aware of the possibility.

“If it’s anything I can’t just expel, I’ll only become inert,” Anax said. The girl wondered whether his confidence might be misplaced. She glanced over her shoulder and noticed a man strolling down the beach with a large kite in tow.

“Oh! Look! I bet you’ve never seen a kite before!” Anax’s orb trained on the white flash of paper against the beige sand. An excited trill tickled Patience’s neck. He did not require further convincing to hop back to the beach.

They watched the man from a respectable distance. His boxy geometric structure seemed incapable of flight, and yet it took to the wind as naturally as any bird. The line unraveled, letting the kite reach higher and higher. Anax was in awe.

“How does it fly?” gasped the skull.

“It operates under the principles of lift. The air moving under parts of it is faster than the air in other areas, and it raises the whole thing—essentially. I think a book would better explain it, but I don’t think my father has any on that topic in our collection,” said Patience. Anax uttered a noise of acknowledgement, humbled by the new concept. There were many things in this world unbeknownst to him, and Patience. He only hoped to begin to understand a fraction of it.

As the day dragged into the afternoon, the sun shone brighter, a hot glob of glass hanging in the clear sky. Eventually the wind died down and the man reeled in his kite. Patience took the opportunity to visit the boardwalk again and order a paper cone of fried fish for lunch. She bought a bottle of cola to wash it down. From the edge of the wooden planks, they looked across the wide, sweeping beach. A glimmering sheet unfurled upon the ocean below and cast into the distance to lands unseen. Patience pondered what it would be like to sail in one of the boats skimming off the coast. The sea was a bit less intimidating in the full light of day.

The warmth had attracted a sizeable crowd to the sand. Patience did not feel like dodging errant children to explore more, so she claimed a quiet patch of sand as her own. She lay down on her back, allowing Anax to dig his tendrils into the sand and play with it unnoticed. The girl closed her eyes to let herself get lost in the rhythm of the waves lapping at the shore. Occasionally it was peppered by the soft crunch of sand as Anax made little piles around her. They lazed about on the beach until the sun seated itself on the horizon.

A swath of rich rose stretched along the line where sky met water, bleeding into a mute blue and blushing violet above. The glowing disc of the sun formed the crowning jewel of the brilliant seascape. It soon bowed out, giving way to dusk. Patience sat up once the evening breeze swept in and the temperature dipped.

At that point, the day had worn her down. She was too tired to seek out another restaurant, so she returned to the Salted Strop for supper, whipping the sand from her clothes the entire way. The only plans remaining for the night were to eat and go straight back to the hotel. Thankfully, it was not as musty inside the pub today.

The fisherman’s stew won the girl’s order before she seated herself at the same table from yesterday after paying. She swore there was a new carving on the surface. Patience traced over each epithet embedded in the wood, whiling away her time. Just as the barmaid came by with her meal, Anax emitted a low rumble.

As soon as the barmaid left their immediate vicinity, Anax growled, “He’s back.”

Cursing, the girl hastily removed Anax and set him in her lap under the table. For a moment she questioned what would call greater attention to herself, a skull, or her burn. She bet on Anax. She could only hope that the tabletop and pack of patrons hid the skull. Something within told Patience she did not want to draw his attention again.

Keeping a steady focus from the corner of her eyes, Patience watched the hunter stroll through the crowd to the bar, mouths shutting silent as he passed. She prayed he was only here for supper, like herself.

The grizzled man swung his leg over a barstool and sat. Pub patrons fell back into their conversations. Patience inched her head sideways to watch him. A red-faced sailor at the bar slumped into the elder man’s space. He pushed him away. Unimpressed, the sailor’s face scrunched up as his mouth dropped open to spew some obscenities. With a fleeting movement to his waist, a short knife appeared in the hunter’s grip. The blade threatened the sailor’s face. A hush fell over the crowd.

“Take it outside!” shouted the bartender.

“Just showing off my knife to my new friend here,” said the elder man. He jerked his head, eyes shooting straight into the sailor’s paling complexion. “Isn’t it pretty?”

The sailor nodded slowly, bulging eyes crossing to focus on the blade. “It-it’s real nice.”

“Glad you think so,” smirked the hunter.

A sheen of sweat appeared on the sailor’s forehead as he ducked his gaze. He shifted away from the hunter, giving him ample space at the bar. The elder man sheathed his knife and ordered a lager. Once he received his drink, an unsteady peace fell over the pub. People again resumed their conversations, albeit quieter than before.

Paranoia began to gnaw. He had seen them yesterday, and here he was again. Perhaps he was a regular patron of the Salted Strop. Perhaps not. Patience’s racing mind translated to her hand swirling a spoon in the creamy broth. She swallowed a whole chunk of fish.

As the girl picked a piece of shell from her tongue, she checked the bar. The hunter’s seat was empty. Her heart began to pound. She subconsciously reached for Anax. But as her fingers touched the cool surface, she hesitated. It was a gamble: leave Anax off and she had no protection, put him on and she would be a clear mark.

Her fingers gripped into the skull. She surmised she could always feign ignorance. She had no idea what this creature was. She had no idea this was a creature. It was just a skull she found and kept as she admired its appearance. And it most certainly did not talk.

Taking a deep breath, Patience put on the skull. Instantly Anax’s eye formed and scanned the space for the hunter.

“Did he leave?” he whispered.

“For now, from what I can tell. Maybe we’re worrying unnecessarily. Perhaps he wants nothing to do with us …”

Anax closed his eye, realizing that it might draw too much attention without daylight or a strong lamp to explain it away. The stress began to send shocks of pain through Patience’s scalp. She silently cursed. What a time for this nonsense. Patience slowly finished her supper, head muddling from pain.

“Ugh. I should have brought one of Heledd’s packets with me,” Patience groaned.

“Should we sit outside? The cool air might help,” suggested Anax.

Patience agreed and staggered up from the table. Her head swam. The world teetered as she stumbled out the door. She was in no state to make it back to her hotel. For now she slumped into the bench by the entrance of the Salted Strop. Her head rested against the wall, Anax’s skull scraping the wooden siding. The cold sea air washed over her, soothing her body.

Several people passed her by. She figured they waved her off as having one too many drinks. This was probably a familiar sight around the pub. And it was fair to assume they were also hesitant to help what with the monstrous skull on her head. Whatever the case, Patience was glad to be away from the crowd. In her aching daze, she succumbed to slumber.

“You there.”

Patience did not know how long she had rested on the bench. But it was long enough for her pain to subside into a dull ache. She peeled her eyes open to reveal it was barely brighter than when she had them closed. Only a few lamps still burned down the street, including the exterior light of the Salted Strop. It illuminated the figure standing before her.

She slowly took in the bronze belt buckle centered in her vision. Her gaze shifted to the right of the buckle and caught the dark iridescent hilt of a blade.

“God help us,” Patience breathed.

At the back of her neck a hissing began to build. It was Anax, instinctually sibilating a warning.

“Eyes up.”

The girl inched her gaze upward, only as fast as her aching head permitted. Her sight focused to stare into the hard blue eyes of the hunter.

“I-is this anyway to speak to a lady?” Patience’s voice wavered but came through strong in the end. Anax’s hissing grew louder, almost to a point of agitating her own ears.

“You are no lady.” A lilt of an accent laced his words, but she could not quite place it.

Patience sat dumbfounded, unsure where this conversation was going. Her mind felt slow from the headache.

“You are a monster,” said the man.

Her heart skipped a beat. It was possible he knew the true nature of the skull. Still, her muddled mind slowed any panic that might have flashed in her eyes.

“Well, I beg to differ,” she huffed, losing any tactile composure.

“Clever, mimicking the speech of some uppity girl.”

Patience had enough of this man and could no longer tolerate his condescending tone. Her vision and brain began clearing in the increased pressure of his presence. She shifted in her seat.

“May I?” she whispered to Anax, reaching for his skull.

His voice came almost inaudibly, “Yes.”

Lifting off the skull, Patience stood defiantly. The blood rushed away from her head and her vision blurred for a moment, but she would not let this man know.

“This is my own voice,” she stated, only coming up to the bottom of the hunter’s chin.

The man sneered. However, his expression changed ever so slightly. He seemed somewhat amused. Then without warning, he sprang down and grabbed her wrist.

“Let’s talk somewhere private.”

The hunter yanked hard, forcing Patience to keep pace with him lest he dislocate her shoulder. Patience’s heart drummed at the back of her throat, her eyes wide and darting in all directions as he led her down the road. The streets were empty, there were no souls to help her. She gulped.

Patience fumbled in attempt to reapply Anax with one arm. Anax may have been able to stop the hunter, but in the dark moonless night he could not foresee a blade and risk her safety. He could help her escape once he was securely on her head, in the light, and away from other people. Before Patience was aware, she found herself in front of an inn. Wrenched in his arm, the girl nearly crashed into the carved wooden dolphin standing by the door.

The hunter stormed through a dim, unattended foyer, Patience still tight in his grip. He forced her down the entire length of a hallway. In the moment he paused to unlock his door with one hand, Patience found the chance to reach the skull toward her head. But before the helm could cover her crown, the door swung open.

With great strength, the hunter tossed her into an armchair. The skeletal helm sank over Patience’s eyes. A lamp blazed to life. At the click of the room door shutting, Anax snarled and rose to his full form, encasing Patience in his body. Seemingly unfazed, the man sat down on the bed next to them. Anax and Patience were categorically puzzled.

“Who are you?” growled Anax, flexing his claws menacingly.

“Hm. A pleasure to hear your voice, Creature. My name is Valon Dibra,” said the hunter. Without skipping a beat, he reached for an opened bottle of whiskey on the nightstand and brought it to his lips.

“What do you want with us?” Anax barked, his voice resonating around Patience’s head.

“Like I said: to talk.”

Anax stilled, but remained guarded.

“I have not seen one of your kind in over five years,” said Valon, taking another swig. “I never thought I’d lay eyes on that dark, lustrous shell again,”

“Was the last time when you reaped a life for the hilt of your knife?” Anax spat.

“Relax. I sourced this from a broken, empty shell. I spent two years in Vyugary, much of that deep in the forests. I only came across six carcasses, and only ever caught a few fleeting glimpses of live beasts. All I know of your kind are from the local stories and legends. Living ghosts, yaszaha, of the mountains. ” He glowered at Anax. “You beasts are quite elusive, just as the name implies.”

“What can I say? We value our privacy,” Anax sneered.

“So imagine my surprise, my sheer befuddlement, after I decide to go on holiday overseas and I see you stroll into the Salted Strop.” A dangerous smile crept between the scruff under Valon’s nose. “It appears the rumors are true … you do steal the souls of humans.”

“No!” Patience shouted beneath the fog.

“Well, I suppose from a provincial point of view …” muttered Anax.

“Why should we even talk to a hunter like you?” snapped Patience.

Valon looked up at her with threatening eyes.

“Hunting is pleasurable indeed, but what I fancy even more is knowledge.”

The hunter pulled a small packet from his overcoat. Unfolded, it revealed several hand-rolled cigarettes. He grabbed one, kneading it between his fingers. He crossed his legs and nodded to Patience. “Let me talk to the girl first.”

“We’re leaving!” Anax roared as he made his way to the door.

The distinct scratch of a match hissed in the room. Valon brought it to the tip of the cigarette. Anax tilted Patience’s head, his eye began to quiver.

“Is that—”

“Lavender,” said the man.

Anax stopped in his tracks.

“Had these rolled up at the witch’s herb shop right after I first saw you in the pub. It was a hunch, but if the Vyugarians think it can stop a yaszaha … well, it seems they were correct,” Valon chuckled darkly. “I can burn the whole pack if I wanted. But I’ll only do that if you don’t want to cooperate.”

“If you go inert, I can try and run away,” Patience whispered under Anax’s skull.

“No! You’re too easy to catch and harm if I’m not around.”

Patience swallowed. Anax was right.

“Let’s answer his questions. At least I’ll be alert and can protect you.”

“If you’re sure.”

Valon smirked and extinguished the roll on his tongue. He kept the cigarette between his teeth and the match between his fingers against the bottle. Patience presumed he lit the match with the very same callused digits. Anax walked Patience over to the armchair and sat down, dissipating his body.

“So. What’s your name?” Valon grunted around the cigarette in his mouth.

“P-Patience,” she stuttered. Valon’s steel blue eyes bore into her skull. Even with Anax between them, she felt vulnerable.

“Just ‘Patience’?”

“Patience Firmin,” she murmured.

“Good, now that we’re properly introduced …” He took a sip from his bottle, the cigarette carefully clutched in the corner of his lips. “How’d you come across this skull?”

“It was a gift—sent from a family friend traveling through Vyugary.”

“Hmph. What a fool.”

Leland Unger had always been known to take action first and ask questions later. Had he been aware of the legends surrounding the skull, Patience was sure he would have at least included the stories along with the letter. Then again, perhaps she was the biggest fool of all for putting on the skull.

“And you put this thing on your head?” Valon tutted.

Patience’s face grew hot with shame. “Never mind the circumstances of how we came together. What do you want with him? With his kind?”

“I’ll be asking the questions here,” growled Valon.

“This is less of a talk and more of an interrogation,” Patience grumbled.

He snarled, “Did you say something?”

Quavering at his formidable presence, Patience held her tongue. The capability of this man was unknown to her. She was dealing with a dangerous, unpredictable force. But despite the parts of her brain firing off warnings, something about him excited her. His hooded eyes challenged her to look at him. His square jaw, broad chin, and defined cheekbones painted him to be quite handsome. Thirty years ago he would have been quite a catch, and regardless of the slackening skin around his jowls, he still was in a way. Patience shook her head, mostly in reply, partially to shake off her musing.

“So you’re starting to learn. Good,” said Valon, peering at her as he brought the bottle to his lips again. Suddenly he hammered the glass down behind him. “YOU on the other hand—”

A pained whimper whined across the girl’s ears. Patience craned her neck to discover Valon grinding a small tendril between the bottom of the glass into the top of the bed’s footboard. Anax had failed in his attempt to snake a tendril around the room to take the match from his hand. Indeed, Valon was a dangerous man.

“What are you even doing with this thing?” he asked, dismissing the limp tendril with a flick of the bottle. Anax retracted his coil under the man’s fierce observation. Confident the skull would not try anything else, Valon met Patience’s eyes. “Young women your age should be seeking husbands, starting families.”

“That part of society doesn’t really take well to me.” Patience shrugged, trying not to let her astonishment and fear waver her words. “I enjoy Anax’s presence.”

“Does he … do things for you?”

Her cheeks burned red.

“I heard that the yaszaha body has healing properties.”

“That’s not true,” Anax interjected.

Valon flipped the cigarette around his fingers, glaring at the skull. “I’d like to figure that out for myself.”

“I-is someone you know sick?” asked Patience, her expression softening behind Anax’s snout.

“I merely want to know if the rumors are true, as with the lavender.”

“Well, they aren’t!” lied Anax.

“Please,” Valon spat, “do you believe I’m stupid enough to trust anything you say?”

Anax hissed, but fell silent. He would only get angrier speaking with Valon. A deep chime rang as the clock out in the hall struck midnight.

“I’ve kept you long enough, Patience. Young women should not stay out this late. I’ll allow you and the creature to return home. But not before I propose this,” Valon packed away the match and cigarette, “Relinquish the skull to me and I will pay you quite handsomely.”

The hunter took a slip of paper from his pocket and scribbled on it with a pencil from the room’s nightstand. The note passed into Patience’s hand. Immediately she crumpled it. Valon smirked.

“Well, best be on your way.” He stood up from the bed and opened the door for Patience. As she passed him on her way out, she caught the scent of smoke and citrus oil, making her head swim ever so slightly.

The wooden planks of the walkway rattled under Patience’s boots as she ran to her hotel. Letting her breaths come in and out as steady as the waves in the distance, the girl analyzed her options. She smoothed out the paper and glanced down as they passed under a rare lit street lamp. The sum Valon offered was quite sizeable. But Patience could not lose Anax. She owed so much to him. She would still be at home in the same rut she dug for herself if not for his motivation. However, the girl would not be here for much longer. This turn of events just announced the end of her vacation. The only choice now was to hide Anax until they could return home.

Back in her room, Patience was on hands and knees inspecting every inch of the furniture and wainscoting. She even asked the front desk for two additional lamps to illuminate the corners. Supposing he could track her to the hotel, the privacy of her room would not be enough against a man dead set on a mission. Locks were easily picked. Anax had to be hidden.

“I need to find a place to hide you!” Patience squeaked as she scuttled along the side of the bed, peering underneath. “I can’t go around town with you on my head as long as he’s here!” She scrambled to the writing desk and looked behind it.

“I‘ll book the first train back to Haverston tomorrow morning.” Patience dropped to the floor to check the space under the desk. “Dammit! If the skirt of this thing were just a few inches longer I could possibly tie you to the bottom.”

“Patience …” Anax started.

“We can’t take any chances! Oh! I know! No one’s staying on this floor. I can hide you in the bathroom! No one would think to look there, right?”

“Patience!” he snapped, “Rest! We’ve had a long day. You need to sleep. We can look in the bathroom tomorrow when it’s light out.”

“But—”

“Go to sleep. He can’t come in here without me knowing. I will alert you at any sign of him or burning lavender,” Anax assured.

She sighed.

Acquiescing, Patience settled into bed. Their day had begun early and ended late. A gate creaked open and released a rush of exhaustion through the girl’s bones. As her head touched the pillow, she noticed its angry throbbing. Sensing her peril, Anax reached out a few tendrils to prepare a packet of Heledd’s medicine. A grateful tear rolled down from the corner of the girl’s eye.

She could see it now, Valon tearing an inert skull from her arms. The hint of lavender in the air. The hunter stealing away, melting into a crowd of people or maze of alleys. Anax, lost forever. She, hopeless and thrown back into her vapid existence. Heart crumpling from the bereavement of one of the few beings she could call a friend.

“Here, drink,” said Anax, bringing a cup toward her.

The cup sat empty after several minutes. Patience leaned back against her pillow. Enough time had lapsed for the girl to calm herself and finally drift off to sleep.