The crossbow was too obvious, so he couldn't keep it. Timo unlatched it and threw it pathetically, where it got entangled in the rough. He unfastened Mr. Scorpion's belt and tried it on; too bulky and won't tighten around his waist. He could sling it over his shoulder, but that's also too obvious. Disappointed, he rummaged through the pouches, tossing the unknown vials of liquid and crackerbread rations. A wrapped set of darts caught his eye, and he saved them. He took off the boots, shaking out water and twisting the heel to see if money would appear. Nothing. He patted the inner coat lining, splashing, and discovered a bulging coin pouch. Tired of looting, he dragged the body further into the bog, until the water reached his waist, and pushed Mr. Scorpion as far as he could. Then he waded out of the bank, covering his bloodstains with mud.

Kazerus and the crew hoist another cattle inside the slaughterhouse. They work as they've always worked, in the business of death.

Somehow, it feels lonelier. It's been awhile since Kazerus had talked to anyone outside of his crew. Timo had been gone for several days, and The Scorpion had stopped visiting.

Rumors had spread, speculating why the witchhunter dropped off the face of the earth. Was he incompentent and abandoned the investigation? He seemed like a seedy fellow anyway; maybe he was a con artist. No, he really did seem to try, and he knew plenty about criminals. He had all that special gear; you can't get those by scamming. Perhaps he got bribed to ghost the case. Perhaps a fairy abducted him.

At the gate of the pen, two people are waving. Palatius lumbers over and unlocks the gate for them: the Angel Lane healer who's slightly taller than the child Timo. Palatius calls from the distance.

Magess Vantegia introduces herself. Kazerus thought Timo was gone forever, but he’s glad he made it back. Furthermore, this meeting would be inevitable. Samiltus cocks his eyebrows frequently, mentioning his poor posture is due to age, and not because he’s trying to check out her figure within the cloak. The crew conducts the usual pleasantries of receiving a guest--no, I don't need a place to sit--no, I don't need water--yes, I'm here for business inquiries as well.

The physician takes Kazerus aside onto the lawn. Her purple cape matches her violet eyes, concealing her arms. She asks in private, "What can you tell me about Timo?"

Kazerus ponders for a while. "He's thoughtful and quiet. He does a good job most of the time." Shocked that he doesn't know what else to say, his face becomes disconcerted. "He's a bit hard to read."

Vantegia lifts an eyebrow. "Explain?"

"When I first met him, I thought he was a little...behind for a kid his age. He told me that he got bullied." Kazerus shrugs, his apron flapping. "Well, no problem. If he was so desperate to come all the way here, I figured I'd help him.

"But ya know, it turns out he's a good hunter. It made my job easier because he was already used to blood and guts." Kazerus laughs a kick, not admitting that he owns something as silly as cat slippers. "But then, kids who are good hunters tend to be popular. At least, I don't think anyone in their right mind would mess with one."

Relieved that he had spoken plenty to not seem awkward, Kazerus continues, "Oh, he did mention that his magical abilities are weak. I think ya're better equipped than me to help him."

"You think so? Why?"

Kazerus snorts. Enunciating properly, he says, "You're a healer. He's a healer. I'm a butcher." He makes an expression, as if the reasoning is super obvious.

"Timo isn't a healer until he's been inducted."

Kazerus leaves his mouth agape and taps on his left flexor. "He stitched my arm right up. I almost cried ugly tears when I saw it. If that's not healing, then I guess my eyes are beyond salvation."

Vantegia says with a cryptic grin, "That's impressive. I've only just met him, so I haven't seen his magic yet." She decides not to mention that most people begin to cast healing spells when they're teenagers. Talent isn’t really a prerequisite for the field of medicine. It could even be a detriment, if a person grows up deciding they're bored of their talent, when dedication is needed most. But Providence knows, it's hard to ignore someone with potential!

"That's all I got to say. Anything else?"

She shakes her head and thanks Kazerus for his time, and spends several minutes wandering around the butchery to get a better idea of Timo's character.

Arviel saunters around the corner of the slaughterhouse like a chimp, swiping his long arms through the air. "Demand for beef has been high this month. We’re already running low, and none of the veals are ready."

He and Kazerus walk into the slaughterhouse discussing the shortage. Timo lags behind, and when he crosses the threshold, humidity vanishes, sacks of salt inhaling the moisture.

A gray dimness lurks inside, shadows tar black. The glowing outlines of hanging carcasses burst into muted colors when the door swings open for brief moments. The voices clang off the cinder blocks, and Timo browses the aisles, sniffing and judging the meats' progressions.

Looming from a particular hook, there's a pinkish-brown veal slab just as tall as him. Peering around to make sure no one's watching, Timo touches a rib and sends forth his power. The carcass dessicates into a flaking shell, black and green, with the fat and tendons marbling into ghostly butter. What appears dead and lifeless, contains the littlest sparks, the process of decay merely further along the chain in the process of life. He releases his invisible grasp and shakes the dizziness from his head. Loudly, he announces, "This one looks ready."

Kazerus follows the elevated pitch, where Timo points at the carcass. The butcher bends and bows at his hips, examining the aged beef from various angles. It's the perfect consistency, but he swears that a fresh one was loaded here a couple days ago. Already getting old and forgetful? Mentally shrugging, he hums, "Deady, ready, in my belly," and rolls over a dolly with a tub. With a great heave-ho, he unhooks the carcass into it, rusted chains creaking and grinding.

They all step outside, and the dolly bumps over the sill. Loitering along the fence and the cistern, Vantegia cheers at them. Her hand low, she beckons for Timo.

Arviel nudges the boy with his elbow. When Timo looks up, startled, the butcher swishes his chin in Vantegia's direction. "Congratulations, you've been recognized as a healer's apprentice. Go on to do the things that I couldn't."

Well aware of what he is capable of, Timo’s lips split into a dazzling smile, the cuspid peeking through the gap. "I will."