The buzzing of cicadas gave chorus to the creaking of wagon wheels. Two road-weary passengers shifted blankets thrown in amongst barrels and crates, using their hands to shield eyes against the afternoon suns above.
A man and a woman sat across from each other, leaning against their respective wagon walls. The man was well-built, sturdy. Shoulder length hair, short beard, all brown. Pale skin and closed eyes. One hand was resting against their chest. A grimace overtook their features.
The woman was similarly built, but differences lay in shorter blonde hair, a nose that never healed quite right, and skin far more sun-touched with a deep tan. Grey eyes would dart between the man across and the crossbow on their lap. A thick wooden contraption reinforced with steel. Sitting next to her was a quiver of gleaming arrowheads, silver.
Barrels jostled as a wheel hit a stone in the road, the woman gripping tighter onto the crossbow before relaxing. The man opened their eyes briefly, revealing a green iris with no pupils. With one passing look at the woman, he closed them.
The woman frowned, tapping her crossbow as she spoke.
"Thought your kind got all withered up in sun."
Without opening their eyes, the man scoffed.
"I get to be a... lucky exception." He returned to his grimace. "But I'd rather the shade." He moves his hand away from his chest, opening his eyes again to stare at it, before placing it back. She watched the motion, raising an eyebrow.
"Is there a story behind that?" She leans back against the wagon wall as she asks, still tapping the crossbow. Closing his eyes, he didn't respond.
Ralf was crawling among the dirt and leaves on the forest floor. A cool night, the brisk chill asking him to succumb. Curses dripped from his lips; poison pointed at himself for his greed. He fell silent at the sound of whistling. It weaved through the trees, sitting in the air with a weight. Every note had a slowness to it, asking the world to be still.
And still it did. The wind paused, the wildlife halted their incessant crying. Colors muted to grey. Raising themselves with shaking arms, Ralf craned their head. Facing the source of the melody, it was as if the forest stretched on between him and the approaching figure. A growing distance that suddenly lurched forward with a soft exhale.
In the silence, Ralf's ear rang. Looking at the figure, his vision was dizzy, only able to make out an outstretched hand, sheathed in silk. He was asked something, but the syllables were disjointed, the words slipping his mind. He thought he was dying, everything the final fabrications of his mind before he faded.
A pause, and the question was asked again. This time in sharp clarity.
"Would you like to be put back together?"
Ralf chuckled, a rasping sound. Said it could try. The hand turned over, a glint of something metallic flashing before it vanished. Something fell from its finger.
A drop of crimson, the only color in the grey. It burned his tongue. It burned going down. It burned going up. It scorched, writhed and roiled inside his chest: a maelstrom of effervescent madness that overloaded every system as his body stitched itself back together.
Bones knit themselves from nothing, rebuilding legs as flesh weaved back into place. His hands clawed at his chest, the efforts futile. Haggard sounds ripped from his throat as he was pulled to his feet.
The world had returned to color, and it was over. Still clutching his chest, he swallowed. It was over. It was over. It was over. It sat in his chest, dead center. A weight. A pulse. He had to wrestle his hand away. His heart was beating. Oh so slowly, but he felt every contraction.
He felt alive.
One drop of blood. One he was still digesting.
What the f-
Another jostle of the wagon woke him from the past. Snapping open his eyes, he looked up at the sky. Ralf ran his tongue over his fangs. The woman coughed, causing him to jerk his head down.
"Back with us?"
He glared at her. She ignored his look, stretching back with a yawn.
"Well, good to have you back. I guess. So, can he really cure my sister?"
Both heads turned to look at the one pulling the wagon. A lanky man, dressed in blue-colored clothes they've seen nowhere else. A harness intended for wagon-beasts was instead jury-rigged to fit around his torso. He was moving at what appeared to be a comfortable walking pace, but the wind at their heads told a speedier story.
What a wretched freak.
The woman- Eric, pursed her lips. Ralf turned his gaze away as he answered.
"Yes."
Eric didn't seem to relax at that. Tapping her crossbow again, she shook her head.
"All that's left then is getting to her. Do you think she'll be able to live with herself?"
Ralf smirked at the question, leaning closer.
"Once you turn, that voice that sees humans as like yourself gets silenced." He leaned back when he noticed the crossbow being angled toward him. Looking at the sky once more, he considered if the silver bolt would be worth it.
He didn't get why the wretch wanted to help her. Shielding his eyes against the sun, he felt the prickles across his skin. A constant unpleasantry, but he adapted. Eric was the grimacing one now.
"I mean, when she's human again. Will the voice come back?"
He shrugged.
"I don't know. He didn't cure me."
"But he did something?"
"Yes."
"What?"
Ralf felt the ear splitting smile as he echoed the words told to him long ago.
"Put me back together."
Eric pointed the crossbow at him again.
"Stop that."
Grumbling, he let his face fall flat.
"You're no fun."
"And you're creepy as shit."
More grumbling, before Ralf leaned his head onto his hand, the arm propped up by a small crate.
"So, what happened to your sister?"
Eric pointed the crossbow in the correct direction- away from him- as she gathered her thoughts.
"She was a hunter like me. We were on a mission together. Got jumped by bloodsuckers. And." It was her turn to grimace. "And they got her. Dragged her away kicking and screaming. Even stabbed one with her backup dagger. But then they were gone." Her voice was choked stoicism.
"And you know she's still around because of some oracle?" Ralf considered if he should feel anything about her fate, only settling on skepticism.
"Yes. And I know where she is too."
"How do you know you weren't swindled."
She bristled at that.
"They were city ordained. Cost me almost everything."
Ralf snorted.
"Lucky you, we're free to hire thanks to twinkleheart."
Her grimace turned to a half smile.
"Heh. Do know what he is?"
The burning question indeed. Look at the wagon puller and you'd quickly discern they're not human. For one, it towered over most humans. Secondly, their joints bent in ways unnatural, contorting to let their body fit into any shape. Something Ralf had the misfortune of seeing when it felt appropriate to slink and hide into small spaces. The way it could fold itself. Thirdly, their face was obscured by that of a crimson mask, smooth and oval in shape. Two glinting sapphires took the slots of eyes, and a wide mocking grin acted as a mouth. It could talk, eat, look around just fine with it on.
Said mask was staring at Ralf right now, their neck turning the full rotation without problem. Eric suppressed a shudder.
Ralf just blinked. It was par for the course.
"I don't know, and I don't want to know." He answered with. A half-lie, but frankly the less he knew the better.
'Twinkleheart' considered itself a wanderer. Ralf had witnessed it pick flowers or hold butterflies on long fingers. Seen it offer those flowers or butterflies to other wanderers or children. A pleasant demeanor behind a horrifying frame. It could hold conversations, if you ignored the occasional ramble on things that would make your head spin.
It had turned its head back to face the road, continuing on its merry jaunt. Eric watched the back its head before looking at Ralf again.
"Okay. Won't pry then. Nice enough fellow, though."
He didn't have any comments for that beyond a grunt of semi-agreement. Sensing the conversation was over, Eric's eyes unfocused for a few moments before returning to the present. Gripping her crossbow again, she spoke to herself.
"The bloodsuckers won't know what hit them."
Ralf just rested his head back, closing his eyes. They sure wouldn't. Trying to get comfortable, he knew the wagon would stop when they arrived. And then he'd have to do stuff. At least the human seemed competent. The prickles of the sun, it was manageable. His heart beat slowly, pumping cold blood that warmed every time it passed his chest.
It was almost nice, the sensations of life.
If you ignored the questions.