During the end of summer, and all throughout autumn, it rains a lot.

We spent much of our time under all sorts of roofs; the porch, the shed, and a few times, the cave – a small indent into the stone hillside.

When the clouds parted, however, we’d double down our efforts. In the end, we finished the harvest on time.

The winters here are cold, but it doesn’t snow.

Claire took me around the village to meet the neighbours. That wasn’t an everyday thing though. The closest other farmers were still a journey away.

At home, Claire showed me how to cook, and in return, I taught her a thing or two about the wilderness. When a clear night came, we camped out in the cold staring at the stars.

Spring comes quick, bringing flowers in full bloom.

There wasn’t anything we could plant, so we went on long hikes to new places. The sun and moon would rise and fall above us. It reminded me of how things used to be.

Before I knew it, as the days grew longer, the nostalgic days of summer had crept back upon us. And instead of the harvest, we spent our mornings waiting. Counting the days since he left.

It’ll be a whole year soon.

----------------------------------

The beating of rain against the window awakens me from my sleep. I sit up, and glance at the time. The clock reads four.

I’ve never gotten up this early before. Then again, it could be four in the afternoon. This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gotten up so late after all.

My hand reaches to toss the covers aside, but there are none. After all this time, it’s something I’ve still yet to get used to.

I grab the bag leaning against the bed frame and head to the window. The restraints slide open without a sound. My bag is lowered down first, followed by an umbrella. I throw my raincoat over my shoulders, and begin doing up the buttons, but as I scan the shadows for my boots, they’re no where to be seen.

Did I leave them out front? I’m almost positive I didn’t. Regardless, I’ll have to grab something else to wear if I don’t want to sink into the ground.

I turn the doorknob as carefully as possible, not to make a single sound. Just a crack opens, and I scan the darkness outside. To my surprise, under the light of a single bulb, a person sits at the kitchen table. His face is hidden behind a large newspaper. There’s a split second where I hope that just maybe, it’s him; that he’s back. But I know it’s just Uncle Charles. Claire’s father never read the papers.

He takes notice of my presence, quickly folding the paper into a neat little rectangle.

“You’re up early.” Charles, remarks.

My first thought is to turn back, to make a run for it. But perhaps I can just play this one off.

“Oh, that’s good. I wasn’t too sure.” I say.

I open the door just wide enough for me to slip through. It clicks shut as I drag it along behind me.

“So, you do this often? Getting up in the middle of the night?” Charles asks, as he places the paper in front of him.

I shake my head.

“No.” I tell him. “I’m usually out cold until Claire wakes me.”

Charles remains in his seat.

“What are you doing up so early?” I ask.

He chuckles quietly to himself.

“I took your boots.”

My eyebrows raise and my lips slip open for just a moment. But it’s too late already.

“Heh, I knew it.”

I stutter over my words.

“How did you know?” I finally ask.

“I’ve known Claire since she was a child. I can tell when she’s hiding something.”

The beating beneath my chest races. So many times, I’d vowed to never ask anyone this question again, but it seems once more, that vow will be broken.

“And what about me? Do you know about me?”

It’s the same look that I’ve gotten from so many. The quick glance into my eyes, and underneath his, the gears are spinning, trying to piece together what I could mean. A look of innocence, one that dispels the pressure, but raises awkwardness.

“All this time, am I really that scary? You got to learn to let loose, kid, I just told you I knew, didn’t I? Or did you forget already?”

The weight escapes in a sigh.

There’s a moment of silence that follows. And it begins to dawn on me.

“You can’t stop us from leaving. We’re not going to sit around waiting forever.”

My body stiffens in anticipation of his reply.

“Don’t worry, I don’t intend to.”

I begin the rebuff I prepared, but cut myself off before the first word. His answer was not what I expected.

“Then why did you,” I linger in confusion.

“Why did I take your boots?” He finishes my thought for me.

I nod.

“Well, I just saw them lying there.” He says with chuckle.

The chair rumbles across the floor as Charles gets up from his seat. He steps back into the kitchen and takes something out of top left cabinet. The one with the wine glasses that we never use.

With two envelopes in hand, he approaches me.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“Before Claire’s mother left, she wrote a letter for her with her father. And then when he left, he wrote one too and entrusted them to me.”

Charles takes my hands and places the papers inside.

“He trusted me to give them to her when the time was right.”

I glance down. His hands still covering mine.

“Why are you giving this to me?”

“She trusts you more than anyone right now.”

He moves his arms back, leaving the letters between my palms.

“How can you tell?” I ask.

He raises an eyebrow; my question was already answered earlier.

I unveil the two envelopes, wedging them tightly between my fingers. One light brown and aged with time, the other just the same, only slightly less.

“You aren’t going to come with us?” I ask.

He tilts his gaze down and recites a long-prepared reply.

“I was around your age when I left to see the world. It wouldn’t be my place to tag along.”

It doesn’t make much sense to me, but the way he said it, like with absolute certainty that he is correct. I’ve heard that tone many times before. My thumbs press tightly into the letters in my hands. They fold up around the edges.

“How will I know when it’s time?”

“They aren’t sealed”

I look Charles in the eye.

“Thanks, Charles.”

“What for?” He asks.

“For looking after a total stranger like me.”

“Is that so odd?”

I shake my head.

“I’ll be going now.”

My heel rotates towards the door.

“Hold on, there’s one more thing.” Charles says.

He hands me the folded newspaper.

“You should read this. Just so you two aren’t taken by surprise.”

I take the paper and nod once more. It finds its way into my pocket.

“Keep an eye on Claire for me alright? She can let her emotions get to her sometimes.”

“Of course.”

Charles takes one last look at me. His eyes cannot hide that he’s sad to see me go; to see both of us go.

“Well, you get on your way now.”

As I open the front door, the wind kicks it in towards me. I glance back over my shoulder a final time. Charles still stands in the same spot, still watching me leave. He looks almost regretful.

“Come back safely, okay? Both of you.”

----------------------------------

Her hand twitches from the bright red sore right above the thumb. It hurts to even just hold it up. Claire isn’t the greatest artist I’ve ever seen, but with a six-hour train ride, and an hour wait before, it’s turned out quite well. Even just sitting next to her, there was enough pencil dust to make me blink twice. Through a pain staking amount of redrawing, erasing, and redrawing again, a familiar face finally appeared on the blank sheet of paper, pulled straight out of the station’s recycling bin.

It should come as no surprise then, that I felt her same disappointment, as the young man behind the visitor center desk slowly shook his head.

“Haven’t been many people passing by lately, and this is a small enough town already. If he’d have come by, I’d remember his face.” He said, before offering to take down a name.

“Ambrose Lang.” Claire told him. “Tell him his daughter came by looking for him.”

The receptionist took note, and Claire offered to leave her drawing with him, to which he declined. Because he’s ‘good with faces.’ I only remember he said that because when he did, he glanced up at as. Maybe he didn’t, though, but I tried to make myself too visible.

He directed us towards a place we could stay, wished us the best of luck, and we were on our way.

Admittedly not the best foot to get off from, but what were we supposed to expect.

We enter our room for the night, and Claire tosses her bag on the floor. She flops over like a wet noodle and plants her face into it. It sounds like something snaps apart, but I can’t tell if it was something in the bag, or her nose.

“You are just radiating with positivity, aren’t you?”

I wait for a response but get none. I begin to wonder if she broke more than just her nose.

“Hey, Claire. You alive?”

She lies motionless still, and I kneel by her side. Her eyes are shut and sound asleep. That’s what she gets for staying up the whole way here.

I take the sheets from the cot and place them over her shoulders.

The peaceful rains begin to pick up again, and I quietly open the sliding door out back. Stepping into the cold summer air, a small courtyard awaits me, surrounded by sloped roofs and a stone walkway looping all the way around. It’s a dark evening, but there’re only two rooms with their lights on; ours and the main lobby.

‘Haven’t been many people passing by recently.’ Looks like that guy wasn’t kidding.

I reach into my pocket and unfold the things Charles gave me. The date on the newspaper is a week and a half ago. The date on the letters, I can only imagine are much older. I slip open the first envelope and hold it in the light. When the time is right, huh? I wonder that will be.

----------------------------------

The rain and the winds pick up, kicking the water under the overhang and onto my feet. I tuck the papers deep into my coat and head back inside. Claire is still out cold on the floor. I sneak by and exit the front door into the hallway. The blank walls are lit by just a few lights, a homely feel.

I reach the lobby and shuffle through the case of flyers by the entrance.

A soft voice speaks from behind me.

“Can I help you with something?”

An elegant young lady, the innkeeper’s daughter I presume.

“I was hoping to find the most recent newspaper.”

“Oh,” She says, nervously. “We don’t carry the paper here, but I have a copy that I was reading earlier. Would that be okay?”

There’s a slight hesitation in my reply.

“Thanks, that’ll do just fine.”

“I’ll be just a moment then.”

The girl bows and hurries away into the hallway. I look back to the flyers. A flower garden is reopening soon, plums are back in season, and a life changing boating experience. I guess life just goes on, doesn’t it?

The young lady returns, and hands me her newspaper.

“I’ll get it right back to you.” I tell her.

As I begin my way back down the hall, I skim through the pages, but nothing catches my eye. It’s just local news, like the flyers. I turn back around.

“Back so soon?” The girl asks, holding a broom to her side.

“I was actually looking for something more, worldwide.”

I hand the paper back to her. There’s an anxious look in her eye as she receives it.

“I’m sorry that’s the only one I have.”

“Don’t be, I appreciate your helping me.”

She smiles, but it’s an uneasy one. Am I intimidating her? It never occurred to me that was something I was capable of doing. It feels wrong to question her further, but I already slept the whole time Claire was drawing.

“If it’s not too much to ask,” I fumble through my pocket. “Could you tell me more about this article?”

I raise the paper for her to see, pointing to the picture on the front page. There’s an immediate repulse from her entire being. She slides her foot back, holding her arms closer to her chest. Her eyes flicker away from the page.

“I don’t know.” She says.

I quickly fold the paper and tuck it back in my pocket.

“I shouldn’t have asked, I’m sorry.”

The girl bows again, down and up in an instant. She scurries away into the hall without another word or farewell. What kind of nerve did I strike there?

As I lie on the cot, waiting for my thoughts to drift, they always seem to return to that article. The picture of that building in flames, and this person that it keeps mentioning, but without a name. Who is he, I wonder?

----------------------------------

“You know, that name sounds awfully familiar. I’ll check for you. Just a moment please.”

Claire slides her drawing back off the counter, and into her pocket once more. The lady turns away, her eye glancing back at us right before she disappears behind the wall. A silence takes hold of the cramped city hall. Cramped not by people, but the unnerving loneliness. An entire building, empty, if not for two strangers from a far away land. No one behind us, beside us, or even in front of us, at the desk. But there are others here, I can hear the rolling of their pens under the beating of the rain.

Claire stares blankly, twiddling her thumbs behind her back. She sways back and forth, like she’s going to fall over from exhaustion.

“That’s a good sign, don’t you think?”

There’s a childlike look on her face as she snaps back into the world.

“She said the name sounded familiar.” I add.

Claire turns her gaze away from me and back at the ground.

“Oh, she did, didn’t she?”

Her words and tone are detached.

“Is something the matter?” I ask.

Claire shakes her head.

“It’s just not how I thought it would be.”

“What do you mean?”

She stretches her neck back, taking a moment to think.

“The people here, it might just be me, but they don’t seem as friendly as everyone back home.”

There’s a pause in her sentence as she stumbles over her own thoughts.

“No, no, I’m sorry, that’s such a terrible thing to say, they’re all doing so much to help us, and…”

Claire retreats into herself, losing the will to speak. She twiddles her thumbs and sways with the still air. Heading back to her own far away land.

“So you’ve noticed it too.”

Like pulling a string attached to her head, Claire bounces back upright.

“Remember what that guy from yesterday said, about there not being many visitors? It’s a small town, so we probably stand out.”

She doesn’t seem satisfied with my answer.

“You don’t think,”

Claire hesitates, deciding to signal me to come closer. She whispers into my ear.

“You don’t think those people could still looking for you.”

I break away, shaking my head. Claire looks genuinely concerned, more than I am. More than I should be. It’s fine, I tell myself. They’ve been gone for over a year now. What good will it do for them to chase me to the end of days? I’m no longer one of them. No longer Klaus Aecir. Ciel, Lio. It’s all in the past.

“Well, that’s good.” Claire says. “Then I guess it is just what you said, that small town thing.”

My fingers skim the edge of the newspaper in my pocket. It hasn’t left my side since we left.

“Actually, there’s something else it might be.”

I pinch the paper. Claire turns in a mystified curiosity, but the lady returns as my hand begins to move. She rests her arms atop the desk.

“I’m sorry, I checked for new residents, missing persons, and even deceased persons, but that name wasn’t listed on any of those.”

Claire mixes a smile of disappointment and relief.

“At least it’s good to know that he wasn’t on that last one.” She says, slightly disheartened.

The receptionist brushes on a similar look.

“Are you certain he stopped here? He may have just passed by to the city.”

Claire bites her lip.

“He might’ve.” She says.

The lady’s shoulders stiffen as she studies Claire’s intent. Her palms spread out on the desk tighten into fists.

“If you’re going to be going to the city, make sure to be careful.”

Claire nods, without more than a second thought. But I know what the lady really meant.

“Thanks for all your help.”

A pondering mind turns to leave beside me. My fingertips still linger in my pocket. There’s a groove in my thumb. I speak quietly into Claire’s ear.

“I’ll be right behind you, just one more thing I want to ask about.”

She nods and pushes aside the glass door. Her umbrella opens above her head, and a chilled draft drifts by my feet.

“Is there something else I can help you with?” The receptionist asks.

I turn back to her desk, and the hand in my pocket finally pulls out the cursed sheets papers. I place them on the counter, facing her. Before I can even ask anything, the lady is startled by the mere sight of it. Her hands shoot off the table, and she moves away as her back rises.

“Sorry, for that. It wasn’t anything you did.” She says.

I shake my head, assuring I took no offence. My questions stay put; it seems like they’ve already been asked.

“You said you were from the countryside, I guess you wouldn’t know.”

She takes a moment to return to her earlier self.

“Anything you can tell me would be a huge help.”

She looks at the article, then through me, then at me, deliberating amongst herself. Looking out the front windows, I can only assume she’s watching Claire. Determining that she’s just as oblivious to this as I am. She must be waiting for me. I forgot that we only have one umbrella.

The receptionist nods once and leans forward. I lean closer as well. She speaks quietly.

“You should let your sister know this as well, but you shouldn’t talk about this other than between yourselves.”

I nod, having no intention to correct her assumption.

“To be honest, there isn’t much that I know that isn’t written in this article.” Her eyes skim through the page. “He’s just seeking attention, so the general consensus is to avoid talking about him.”

I nod again. There’s an unease growing; I’m afraid she doesn’t know anything important.

“Make sure you’re careful, if you’re going to the city especially. There won’t be any warning.”

“Could you tell me his name?”

I blurt the question out without thinking. The lady is hesitant, but my need for answers is front and center. I reaffirm the question.

“It’s not in the article, but he’s got to have one, right?”

She sighs in capitulation and whispers her warning firmly.

“I’ll tell you, because you’ll find out eventually, but you tell your sister, and then never speak it again.”

My head is bobbing up and down nonstop. She wavers once more, and doubles down on her warnings.

“A name is empowering, you understand this.”

I nod a final time.