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Her things were gone, and so was the money.

Was he a fool? Had he really been duped so easily? Had he simply been a means to an end?

Standing at the edge of the town, he was certain she had left this way. The breeze tugged at his hair, blowing him out towards the woods as though the very element she controlled urged him after.

The tight ache in his chest, however, held him like an anchor, dragging him down the other way, trying to pull him back into the listless current of his former life. The silence of it already filled him with dismay.

Turning away, he took but a few long strides before the weight was too great. In the playful breeze he heard the music of the festival well down the street. It made the ache tear open a little more as every song she had played for him danced through his troubled thoughts.

Snarling at himself, he forced a few more steps before a nagging sound in his mind made him pause once more. In every song had been that forlorn note, something he had not been able to place. No matter how jaunty a tune, she always slipped that melancholy twinge into every piece she played… except that one time she had played just for him and only him.

It had been but a few seconds, just a blip in the expanse of his lifetime. But, it had been real. Genuine. It had moved him, entranced him, bewitched him. It had been so full of love and desire, her enchanting eyes soft and shining with adulation. And it was the only thing he could remember that didn't have that wistful, soul wrenching note.

His march through the wilds had never felt so urgent– or so dull. Three agonizingly quiet days he had to contemplate the reason for her sudden disappearance. Three cold and lonesome nights to realize just what a fool he had been for not recognizing the signs before.

The trek across the punishing landscape was arduous. She traveled in a hurry that challenged even his long strides– a straight line directly southwest, skipping all towns and roads. No matter how hot the day or how dark the night, she did not stop. They covered a greater distance in this chase than in their wanderings, and he couldn't help but feel a dread creep into his thoughts. No one walked like this without purpose. How dire could that purpose be? Why had she never told him?

As the morning of the fourth day crested a fiery orange and gold, he was close. Her footprints through a crop field were but moments before him. The trail led him to a town. He had been here once before, long before these new buildings had come up along the edges.

Pausing at the paved road that now hid her trail, he decided to follow it. In slow, purposeful steps, he followed his nose straight ahead even when it branched in many ways, down the front of buildings and off deeper into town. The few people out this early who saw him coming quickly vanished. Amongst the scent of terror that he elicited, he pursued a perfume that begged for his obsession like the sweet, silvery voice laced in panic that begged quietly in a messy space between warehouses.

“... told me over the phone, so you must be lying.”

“I swear, Damin, I-I'm not lying. I-I-I just met him outside of town, on-on the road. I-I was just flirting, that's all. J-Just being friendly.”

“See, I have a real hard time believing that,” returned a man in a malicious tone. “Maxwell was real specific on what he saw. Said the two of you were being awfully ‘snuggly.’ You know the boss gets pissed when his toys play without him. He won't like it when he finds out.” The man stepped closer, making her back up. “You remember what happened last time you pissed him off?”

Her breath quickened, holding in tears, her hands up in a silent plea to stay back that he did not abide. “L-L-Look, Damin, you-you don't have to say anything to him. I-I have some money. I’m-I'm coming back, aren't I? Please, don't say anything to Kevin!”

The man stepped towards her again, and she attempted to retreat. In the narrow alley there wasn't much space for her to escape.

“Thing is, the boss told us to report everything we see whenever we see you. Maxwell was just doing his job, and I'm only doing my job.” Reaching out to brazenly fondle her breast, making her whimper and press her back flat to the wall, the weasley man's grating voice lowered even more, “but I might be persuaded not to tell him about your friend... if you don't tell him about this.”

“D-Damin, please, I-I should go!” Her trembling was in her voice, whimpering when he pinched a nipple through her shirt. “S-Someone m-might come looking!”

“No one comes back here,” Damin snickered. “No one would come back here even if you screamed. I get to have you all to myself.”

The man was shorter than Zigz, and he did not see her eyes grow wide over his head. Hopefully, he saw Kupper's snarling face and shining eyes as his head was snapped full about with a wet crack, his body crumpling to the ground.

“Kupper!” she whispered as she stared down at the man who had been terrorizing her just a second ago. She seemed all at once relieved and terrified.“You… you shouldn't have done that.”

He glared at her. “Who is Kevin?”

A shudder went through her body, her breath hitching. Shaking her head, she could not meet his eyes, her voice growing softer until she ended in a whisper. “Don't get involved, Kupper. Please. I shouldn't have gotten involved....”

Sneering, he indicated the body. “I'm already involved. Now tell me what I'm involved in.”

When she looked up at him, her eyes so full of tears she fought, eyes that had shined with love and now were clouded with conflict, he wanted to reach out and hold her. He was sure it showed on his face. Shaking her head in small, uneven jerks, she turned away from him, hugging herself tightly. “I-I can't. You shouldn’t have followed me.”

“You followed me first.”

“It was a mistake,” she breathed, staring at the ground, a tear finding its way through her defenses.

Shaking his head, Kupper did not accept that. “Who is Kevin?”

“Please, Kupper, you should go.”

“Fine. After you tell me who is Kevin.” The silence that fell between them was long enough for him to clear his mind of the red he had seen. “You owe him money?”

“I... I bring him money.”

“What does that mean?”

“Please, Kupper....”

He stepped closer with a growl. “Either tell me or blow me away.”

Cringing, her breathing was sharp and erratic in the quiet space. “He... he's a... past transgression,” she finally whispered diffidently.

Thinking for a moment, a spark of realization lit up his brain. “The one who killed your husband?”

“I told you who he is, now can you go?” she hissed, trying to conjure strength from anger, but she had neither to give.

Shaking his head, he grit his teeth with another rumble. “Damn it, woman. What is going on?”

Barely holding in a sob, pressed to the wall just to stay standing, Kupper had never seen anyone so scared in all his life. It made his hearts ache to look down upon her cowering there.

“Please, Kupper,” she breathed. “You… you’ll get him killed.”

Letting all of his anger melt, he stepped a little closer, his deep voice as gentle as a distant storm. “Who, Zigz? Who are you protecting?”

The tension in the space between them was tangible. He could almost see it, a vibration that passed back and forth between them, looking for a crack to break the energy. It found its crack in her.

Sobbing in defeat, she put her hand to her throat as if that gave her tremulous voice the strength to speak. “When... when he found me, he told me I had to pay him back. I… I didn’t have the money, so he murdered my husband, and he… he took my son.”