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2020-03-31
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2020-06-18
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3/?
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A Lonely Sky

Chapter 3: Ferries, Markets, and Strangers

Notes:

Sorry this took so long, it was a lot of trial and error to get this how I wanted.
Thank you to everyone that left comments and kudos and bookmarked, I really appreciate it - virtual hugs to you all.

Chapter Text

 The rounded sides of the tunnel echoed back the sharp taps of Chihiro’s footsteps. She wished she’d worn something more comfortable than the kitten heels that dug into her feet. She’d only worn them twice: once to her university graduation, and then to Mimi’s birthday party last year (about halfway through the night of dancing she had changed into the flats stuffed into her evening bag, but she figured it still counted). Every part of her throbbed with each step she took. Whenever her foot struck the ground, stabs of pain travelled up her body and culminated in a spectacular headache that felt like someone had shoved a knife through her temples and jiggled it around a bit.

She could barely see the hand stretched out in front of her, guiding her into the dark, and making sure she didn’t run face-first into any hidden object. Her other hand trailed across the cold stone of the wall. She was fairly certain that the path led straight, and that the ground neither dipped nor rose beneath her – though she couldn’t be sure.

“Just keep going; it can’t be much longer,” she whispered. Her words echoed back to her: a hundred tinny sighs encouraging her along.

Eventually, a pin-prick of grey light appeared far ahead. Or it at least looked to be far. She wasn’t certain, because as she continued to stumble her way through, the window of light seemed to grow and ebb. It was almost as if she was wandering towards the strange beating heart of the tunnel. The breeze tugging at her clothes seemed like a long indrawn breath, and Chihiro could imagine some great beast hidden far in the stone passage, deep in sleep. Chihiro blinked rapidly, trying to focus her eyes on the light.

With her next step, a sudden unbearable pressure crushed against her chest. Chihiro stumbled in surprise at the tightness, and she fell against the wall; a lethargic weakness crept into her limbs. Each breath she drew was leaden and sharp.

I must be dying, she thought. Because surely she couldn’t survive the vice-like grip around her chest that squeezed the air out of her lungs and made her bones ache. With each breath it tightened like a band twisting around her middle. She curled down against her legs, willing any oxygen into her body, and she began to accept with certainty that she wouldn’t breathe again. This dark, cold place would be as far as she would get.

She wanted to laugh. Or cry.

Almost as soon as the last of her breath wheezed from her spasming lungs, the pressure subsided. The grip on her chest didn’t ease immediately – it faded like a cruel hand, relaxing a single finger at a time until Chihiro was once more able to breathe.

“What was that?” she croaked. She had already been tired and sore, but now her legs trembled like she had run three university marathons with a full hiking backpack on. She unfolded herself and straightened slowly. There was none of the expected twinges or burn in her chest as she moved, and it was almost as if she had imagined the phantom pain. Chihiro stared at the sight ahead of her, not quite sure if she believed what she was seeing.

Where once there had been a strange grey light far in the distance, an archway now stood, only a few feet away. Chihiro took a cautious step, fearful of the crushing pain returning, and peeked into the cavernous room on the other side.

A high window admitted long rays of silver moonlight into what looked to be an empty train station waiting room. Benches stood neatly between pillars that arched towards a ceiling that rose far above Chihiro’s head; in the centre stood a dais, a sundial rising from it. Circling the base of the dais was a small compass sketched into the stone floor. On the far side of the room, opposite to Chihiro, a set of heavy wooden doors stood ajar, allowing fresh night air to drift through, bringing with it the promise of open space – a welcome relief from the tunnel’s damp must. Past the wooden doors, a grey ocean of grass rolled away under the moons steely glow.

A thick blanket of dust had settled across the room, and ragged spiders webs crept between crevices. The room looked to have been undisturbed by living souls for decades.

That was likely to be why Chihiro had never heard of a train station so close to her childhood home. Abandoned, the building had become a shadow that no memory could attach itself to. Chihiro couldn’t help but feel a strange pity for the squalid place. Back in its days of use, it would have been charming – filled with cheer and bustle. Now it lay cold and empty.

Unwilling to linger much longer in the archway, Chihiro hurried through the room. There was a reverence to the air, and she kept her feet light and quiet, which wasn’t hard with the soft grime and dust underfoot. By the time she crossed the not-so-trivial distance to the door, she was sweating and panting profusely. With no wall to support her, the weakness of her body was overwhelming, and darkness tinted the edges of her vision. She had pushed herself enough in running training to know when she was getting close to passing out.

Just a few more steps, she promised herself. A few more, and then she could rest.

She knew she couldn’t really spare a minute to rest. In all likelihood, the creatures were past whatever kept them at bay and were clawing their way through the tunnel. But it didn’t hurt to pretend.

Beyond the door was not, as she had first thought, a vast plain of grass, but instead the dark, undisturbed surface of a lake. Heavy mists drifted across the still surface, and Chihiro had the uneasy sense of something lurking just beyond the water’s inky edge, watching from between reeds and mud-beds. She stood on a grass bank only a few feet wide, which all of a sudden seemed much smaller and more insignificant against the great lake. The distant lights of towns flickered across the water, one directly ahead, the other somewhere to the left; both were far in the distance.

She felt a strange sense of familiarity, and for a moment, she thought of the dragon painting hanging in her office. There was something of memory in the twinkling lights across the expanse of water. She shook her head and pushed it aside for later. It was hardly the time for admiring the views. 

What now, she wondered. She couldn’t very well swim; the distance was much too far to either town, even when her stomach wasn’t trying to twist itself into intricate knots. The water itself was unwelcoming to her. She had the very distinct feeling of something watching her from the deep, anticipating the moment she so much as dipped a toe. The barren grass offered her no hiding place.

She needed a way to cross the water, or a hidden path to lead her away from the train station. But there was no bridge to cross or wood and vine to lash into a raft, and the grass bank only stretched around the doorway – no other path available. She looked around, wishing for something to spring out at her: some before unseen escape that would carry her away. But all she could see was the hopelessness of her situation.

Suddenly there came the light, pleasing ring of a bell. Sweet, jolly, exuberant; an odd comfort filled Chihiro at the sound. She turned eagerly towards the direction it came, and from the mists, a curious sight emerged.

Chugging its way across the lake towards her was a ferry. Bellows of steam fluttered from a clunking pipe high above the captain’s cabin, and the double-tier decks glowed with a golden halo of light. Its wooden paddles pattered through the water, sending small waves to lap at the grass. The ferry cut smoothly across the surface and glided to a stop in front of her. The tinkling bell sounded again, and a plank rattled out from the deck unassisted. With a great thunk, it landed on the grass at Chihiro’s feet.

No passengers stood on either deck, and no faces peered from the windows of the dim passenger cabin in the centre. The ship’s bridge was too dark and high up to see who piloted the vessel.

The ferry was an odd sight to Chihiro, and she almost didn’t trust the convenience of it. It was as if the boat had come in answer to her wish. But, no, that was ridiculous. She had gotten incredibly lucky for the ferry to arrive at its stop when she needed it, and she couldn’t let a silly coincidence dissuade her. She was desperate for an escape, and going back was hardly an option.  She still had some spare change in her pocket and hoped it would be enough to cover the fare as she stepped onto the wooden deck.

Chihiro wandered through the ferry, but the conductor was nowhere to be found on either deck, and she came across no other passenger to point her in the right direction. She stopped at the bow of the boat, the rising need to be sick ending her search. The conductor would find her eventually she figured, surely not letting a freeloader on their ship. On such an empty boat, and unwilling to move, she would be easy enough to find.

She pressed her forehead to the railing. The cool, spray soaked metal chased away the threatening faintness, and the acrid stench of salt and brine braced her rolling stomach as the boat lurched away from the shore. It was the first time she had been still since – she glanced at her watch – just over an hour. 

Only an hour. It had taken only an hour for her life to become completely ruined. A sob bubbled out of her throat, and she squeezed her eyes closed painfully tight. She wouldn’t cry, not yet.

Unbidden, her parents’ faces lingered behind her closed eyes. She had failed them, but Kenji...Kenji was worse. She had left him there, sallow as death and sprawled in the dirt, on a platter for those creatures. She felt a sickness that had little to do with the irregular rocking of the ferry.

 

They moved quickly through the dark water. Each time Chihiro opened her eyes, she thought she caught a glimpse of something swimming alongside them, just under the surface, before it darted back into the deep. She thought it might have been a fish, though it much longer and wider than any she had seen before. After only a few minutes, they came to a halt against a flight of stone steps, and Chihiro pulled herself up from the railing.

She didn’t quite make it as far as determining where she was, though, because she was much too busy staring horrified around her. A multitude of black ghostly figures had appeared on the deck during the short journey, each with a painted paper mask in place of a face. Chihiro squealed in fright and pressed back into the railing.

Chihiro glanced around and realised that the boat was full to bursting with the newly appeared passengers. They flocked from the doors of the indoor cabins and streamed down a flight of stairs connected to the upper deck. She cringed back as they passed by. None of them paid her any mind as they departed, and she slowly relaxed and watched them drift up the stone steps leading away from the ferry.

As the last filed from the boat, Chihiro followed carefully behind. She didn’t think they were going to suddenly attack – they had seemed to be just as happy to ignore her as Chihiro had been for them to do so. But she was still suspicious of the odd beings, and happily stayed well out of their way.

At the plank connecting the ferry to the shore, Chihiro hesitated, unsure, before she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small handful of coins. She placed them on the edge of the boat, before scurrying up the short flight of steps.

The top of the stairs spilled Chihiro out onto a bustling and wild market street. A road crammed with stalls stretched out in front of her. Dried bustles of herbs and paper dolls swung from some, and others boasted tumbling piles of stinking seaweed and sacks of colourful powders. Lizards and birds squealed in cages stacked in front of another. Chihiro stared in horrified wonder as one lizard disappeared completely before appearing again, and a chicken-like bird began to belch small flames through its thin bars. A row of restaurants filled a side street, their hot sizzling pans swirling with frying meats and vegetables, spewing a thick haze of spiced steam into the air.

Between the stalls, guided by the clamorous cries and bellows of sellers, flocked the market’s shoppers. And it was them that Chihiro found to be the most fascinating sight.

Shadowy figures, alike those on the ferry, wandered the street. They hovered over stalls while flocks of weasel-faced women shrieked with giddy delight as they fingered trinkets and studied them under the light of hanging lanterns. Squat well-dressed frogs were jolted by the legs racing past them – a man with a round, toad-like face knocked a miniature straw basket from one's hands, and the frog croaked and shook a webbed fist after him. Pigs stood on hind legs, bags swinging from the crook of their arms; a towering monstrosity of soot soaked rock and lava stooped to duck below a wooden arch; a procession of withered tortoises, bolts of silk clamped in their mouths, followed a floating wooden staff around a corner.

Chihiro watched them with wide eyes and a growing sense of unease. She was starting to suspect that she knew from where the creatures came. And that she had wandered into the heart of their home.

The stall closest to Chihiro, with a banner declaring it as ‘Step’s fresh potion herbs’, was empty. She ducked behind the low counter before anyone in the market could notice her. She forced a slow and steady breath between her clenched teeth. The clamour carried on, oblivious to her.

“Summer festival berries. Only five silvers a stick; not a dram more.”

“Rat skewers; hot off the skillet! Get ’em now or regret it.”

“Five for two! Scalian Melons: fresh from the fire pits of Drumgaa. Five for two – get your grubby hands off!” There was a sharp crack, followed by a squealing cry. “That’ll be eight gold coins for putting your fingers on it, dirty whelp.”

Chihiro risked a glance around the edge of the stall. At the opposite side of the road, a dark-haired woman with a pig’s snout and sharp beetle-black eyes had a child’s arm pinned to the counter of her stall under a wide trotter. A plump purple melon was on the ground at the child’s feet.

“I don’t have any gold, never mind eight pieces, you greedy algae,” the child yelped.  The child whimpered pitifully, and the gills on its neck fluttered as the pig-woman ground her trotter further into the green flesh. A few fish scales tumbled onto the counter.  

“Then you’d best find your parents and have them bring me the money. Otherwise I’ll take this arm as payment. I know a few Piscosols who would love a fresh supply of ingredients for a good price.”

“I haven’t got any. Parents, I mean. I wouldn’t have tried to take your stupid melon otherwise.”

The pig-woman gave a harsh, snorting laugh. “Well, I suppose the arm it is.” She nodded and another pig, this one making up for the stark difference in height between the two pigs by its expansive width, shuffled out from the dark recess of the stall. It wielded a nasty looking knife hooked to its trotter. The pig raised the knife above its head, before letting it swing down towards the fish-child’s trapped arm. The child let out a mighty piercing shriek.

Chihiro jerked her eyes away as the loud crack of the blade broke across the market. A sudden hush followed as quick and sharp. Sick to her stomach, but urged by the irresistible whispers of morbid curiosity, Chihiro peeked out from her hiding place.

Rather than the bloody sight Chihiro braced for she was instead met with the back of a man who had his hand clamped around the mechanism attaching the blade to the pig’s trotter. The knife was stuck firm in the counter, next to the child’s arm.

The man was clad in a simple white tunic, and his hair fell in a dark straight sheet to brush broad shoulders; his feet were bare against the stone road. Chihiro wasn’t sure where the man had come from. He hadn’t been near the scene as it unfolded, and she had barely closed her eyes for a second before he had appeared. But he was certainly there in the thick of it now, and she could hear him speaking in low, furious tones which she couldn’t piece into words.

The pig-woman had no such scruples for privacy. “How I conduct my business is of no interest to you.” The pig-woman gave a furious snort. “You don’t know how hard we down here have to work. Ever since you let those outsiders start roaming around, our income has been sinking faster than you can say Lupple. So what if I want to earn a few extra gold pieces from a nasty little beggar ruining my merchandise? It’s not like there’s anyone to speak for it.”

There was a soft sound of agreement from the surrounding stall owners as she spoke. The other pig nodded as it jerked it’s trotter from the man’s hand and released itself from the knife’s mechanism, leaving the blade embedded in the wood. It gave a final sour glare at the man before it disappeared back into the shade of the stall.

The man glanced around the street, and Chihiro caught a brief glimpse of a pale narrow face and straight nose before he turned back to the pig-woman. He seemed disquieted by the agreement around him, and he pitched his voice low and deadly, too quiet for Chihiro to hear. But even across the distance, Chihiro could feel the power behind it, and she was suddenly exceedingly glad to be hidden away from the man. The pig-woman seemed to be in the same mind as Chihiro, though lacked the luxury of a hiding place; she cowered under the intense scrutiny.

That was until a surge of bravery – or stupidity, Chihiro thought – straightened the pig woman’s back and lifted her chin in defiance. She cut the man off with a sharp stomp of her trotter on the counter. The sound was jarring in the quiet that had settled over the street.

“Just who do you think you are to come here and lecture me on the correct method of handling my affairs? Or had you forgotten about those imposters,” the pig woman spat the word like it was filth in her mouth, “that you let in. Because we in the markets haven’t; we can’t. They ruin our businesses, chase away our customers, and poison anything they get their hands on. But I suppose it’s no matter to you – you still take their money; dirty money for a dirty little rag-tailed – ”

The man raised a hand, and the pig-woman flinched back as if expecting he would strike her. Instead, he simply pointed his outstretched hand towards her. But, to Chihiro’s confusion, this only worsened the woman’s trembles.

The gathered onlook of shoppers stirred and shuffled back. Chihiro heard a shrill voice utter: “Now, now, Master Haku. I’m sure we can sort out this little misunderstanding.” The child, squatted out of the pigs’ view in front of their stall, took the moment of distraction to scoop up the dirtied fallen melon and scurry away towards the lake unseen.

The man, Master Haku, must have said something else. Because the pig woman’s eyes widened in fear and she started to shake her head side to side, the fuzzy ears on top of her head flopping around. Chihiro leant further out from her hiding place, trying to catch a glimpse of what the man was going to do next for the pig woman to be so afraid. She wondered if he was going to put her arm to a knife to see how she liked it.

Master Haku continued to hold out his hand. Ribbons of soft blue light sprung from his fingertips and began to wrap around his hand. Chihiro watched in astonishment as the light crept across the skin until it completely covered his hand, before it flashed a dazzling white, and faded away. Left behind, in place of a hand, was a brilliant white lizard’s claw.

Chihiro pulled in a sharp surprised breath before she could clap a hand over her mouth. But it was too late.

The man cut off his sentence and hushed the pig woman when she began to speak in the following lull. He turned his head to the side, listening. His nose twitched minutely. Chihiro was unwillingly reminded of a documentary she had once seen when she pretended to be too sick to go to school; it had shown a lioness lying in wait in the dry savannah grasses as a baby buffalo unknowingly pranced by. Chihiro suddenly felt very sorry for that baby buffalo again.

Master Haku turned slowly. His dark eyes scanned the crowd and stalls. He was looking for something – and it was with a certainty that she knew that he was searching for was her.

With little thought to action, and despite the cry of tired muscles and the ache in her head, Chihiro crawled further into the empty stall and under a large table. There was an indignity in scurrying rat-like across the packed dirt floor – but it could be ignored under the much greater need to stay away from the searching eyes of the man. Chihiro was in little doubt now that she had stumbled into the home of the creatures that attacked her town, and she refused to be caught by one of them. Not now, not when so much of her life had already been sacrificed.

The table was pressed against a flimsy wooden fence, and when Chihiro pushed at one of the panels, it fell away, leaving a gap wide enough for her to wiggle through. She pulled herself through, taking care to make little noise or leave any sign of her passing. Splinters gripped fast to her shirt and jeans and scraped at her already cut arms.

On the other side, she turned back and did her best to brush away any footprints in the dust, and fit the panel back into place. It sat wonky, but it would have to do. There was no time to fuss over particulars, and would likely only land her in trouble if she did. She could already imagine the man standing over her as she worried the splint edge of the panel against the rest of the fence. ‘Excuse me, Sir. You’ll have to wait while I fit this back – I don’t want to leave any traces to be followed by, you see. I’m sure you understand. Now be a good man-lizard and let me have a head start, will you?’

She gave the panel a final hopeless tug and stood to see where the gap had spat her out.

She found herself sequestered on a thin stone path behind a row of tall trellis threaded with blooming jasmine. The fragile white petals stood open to the night, and as she brushed past, the flowers released a sweet burst of heady perfume that lulled around her in the warm air and tickled her nose. As she felt her way along the dark row, she came to a partition between the frames and pushed through the trailing plants into a small garden.

It was little more than a compact square of browning grass. Trailing roses covered the high stone walls enclosing the garden, their odour permeating the small area, and the over-large red blooms too heavy-headed for the thin vines. They nodded in a drunken stupor under a light summer wind; jewel-toned beetles murmured sullenly as they tried to latch onto the evasive flowers. The bright moon loomed overhead and cast the garden in murky grey light.

To the left of the trellis, covertly set into the wall in a patch clear of roses, was a hatch no taller than Chihiro’s knee. To the right, an archway, through which came the shimmering lights and resumed chatter of the market.

Heading towards the market, and, more importantly, towards Master Haku, was hardly a sane option. And so Chihiro pulled her tired body towards the hatch.

Chihiro took a firm hold of the door and pulled. But it didn’t move. Of course, it couldn’t be that simple, she thought in desperation.

She pulled and tugged at the door, her nails ripping against the wood as she tried to claw it open. But it was locked, or stuck, and she had no way of opening it. The hatch remained stubbornly shut.

Her fingertips were raw and stung with thin splinters from the old unkempt wood. She desperately wanted to cry. Out of fear or frustration, she wasn’t sure – but she forced it down. She wouldn’t give in to it now, not yet. She could grieve later. For now she had to stay alive for her parents, for Kenji, for her town.

With a new determination, she turned from the hatch, intent on finding another route. But she was stopped by a tall silhouette that stood framed in the archway.

The shoulder-length hair and pale face were unmistakable; the single hand of sharp claws catching a slip of moonlight even more so. Chihiro was caught.

Chihiro pressed back against the wall, hoping she might by some miracle be missed. But the hope vanished as the man strode straight towards her. Chihiro stood from her crouched place beside the hatch. She didn’t want to cower in front of this man; she wanted to keep some of her dignity, even if he was going to kill her. For the first time, she was able to view the man’s face entirely under the soft light.

It was a severe but not unattractive face.  The fine structure and high cheekbones gave him an elegant air, though the dour frown of his brow and clenched jaw dampened the effect. The cold eyes that pinned her in place against the stone glowed eerily. The same light had lit the eyes of the creatures. Though instead of a sickly orange, the ones she looked into now were a striking sea-green. The man’s lips were pulled into a grim frown.

Chihiro felt an insistent niggling at the back of her mind: a prickle that something wasn’t quite right. She wavered on the edge of knowing, as if waiting in tense anticipation to be told some vital secret...but she couldn’t pull anything from her mind except fear of the stern eyes looking down on her.

Green. There was something about that shade of green. The thought fleeted though her mind, but was quickly gone.

Chihiro broke the silence as the man charged towards her.

“Stay away from me; don’t take a step closer,” she spat much braver than she felt. Her legs, already barely holding her upright, had turned to jelly, and she wasn’t quite sure how much longer she could stay upright under the man’s furious gaze.

To Chihiro’s immense surprise, Master Haku stopped. There were still a few feet between them. Enough that she wasn’t cornered completely, and could slip by if she was quick enough. Familiar looking or not, he was still deadly, and she didn’t want him any closer.

Master Haku stared at her, his eyes flicking over her face and down to her feet. His face remained still and unreadable. Chihiro crossed her arms as the silence stretched to an uncomfortable length. She had expected much less staring.

Master Haku let out a long sigh, and a heavy weariness settled across his face, pulling his frown deeper. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a small object. Chihiro was about to scuttle away to the side in anticipation of whatever weapon it was. But he only glanced at the metal device and grimaced before pushing it back into his pocket.

“You need to leave now. There isn’t much time until the gate closes,” the man said in a soft voice.

“Excuse you?” Chihiro said before her brain could catch up. Running for her life wasn't something Chihiro had much experience in, but she was pretty sure arguing with her potential killer was low on the list of useful strategies.

Master Haku closed his eyes for a moment, and bone-deep tiredness seemed to roll off him in waves. Chihiro could have felt sympathy for him if it weren’t for her own pitiful state and the handful of claws still hanging from his sleeve.  He smiled thinly and nodded to himself. When he opened his eyes, they were dull and filled with deep sadness.

“I’m not in the mood for this tonight,” he uttered, and Chihiro had the impression he was speaking more to himself than to her. “I don’t know if this is a test on my patience and control, but it really could not have come at a worse time. Gods help me do this right.”

He turned his attention fully to Chihiro, and Chihiro stared back warily. “You’ll need to come with me so I can take you back quickly. I’m surprised you’ve not started to fade yet, but I suppose it will only be a matter of time. Come, you have a family to go to, don’t you? I’m sure you want to get back to them as soon as you can. You only need to go back through the tunnel, and you’ll be returned to where you belong. There’s scary monster’s here; it’s no place for a human like you,” Master Haku said with a wry smile.

The pain and grief suffused into every inch of Chihiro’s skin seemed to snap in a brilliant release, and she felt a burning rage build in the pit of her stomach and boil through her. Her mouth opened, and she had little control of the words that tumbled out.

“I think I’ve gotten quite good at recognising a monster when I see it,” she hissed through her teeth. “You’re just like those others; you’re going to take everything away. Why not kill me now, why wait? Or is this just part of the fun?”

To Chihiro’s confusion, a brief flash of hurt crossed Master Haku’s face before it was replaced by a stoic calm. “What others? The spirits in the market? I can assure you that they don’t like humans, but they’re not overly dangerous. As long as you don’t steal from them,” he added. “You have nothing to fear here if you don’t wander off again. But we need to get to the gate, now.”

Chihiro shook her head, and the man took a step closer. “Don’t come near me. If you consider that losing an arm isn’t dangerous, then I don’t think I can trust your judgements, and that includes going anywhere with you. You’ll throw me into that tunnel for them to find, to rip me to shreds like everyone else. What are they? Pets? Soldiers? They certainly looked less human than you.” Her mouth felt slow and stupid. The world around her grew hazy, and the painful headache had faded into pleasant light-headedness.

“What are you saying?” Master Haku demanded. He disregarded her order this time and closed the space between them. “You’re not making sense. What pets? What Soldiers? You need to tell me what has happened so that I can help you.”

She felt the words ‘I don’t need to tell you anything’ form, but she was unable to press them past her lips. Hands touched her shoulders, and Chihiro was surprised to see the claws were once again human looking skin. She hadn’t seen the bright flash of light. Master Haku’s worried face filled her vision. His features were much softer when he wasn’t frowning, Chihiro noticed. The same niggling familiarity gave a twinge of rightness.

“Chihiro! Chihiro, answer me.”

 “You’re one of them.”

“One of who?”

“Those creatures that murdered my town,” she managed.  

She couldn’t seem to bear it anymore. The faces of her parents swamped her blurring vision; the harsh echoes of Kenji’s grating voice begged in her ears; the memory of burning heat lingered on her skin. As the man shook her and desperately called her name – how did he know her name? – unconsciousness drew around her. Chihiro had a moment to hope she wouldn’t be hurt too much when she hit the ground before she knew nothing more.

***

Chihiro sank in and out of sleep for what seemed to be hours – though it could have been days or weeks for as much as she could tell. She sometimes drifted out of a dreamless sleep enough to hear snippets of conversation. The deep voice of a man was almost constant in these, and Chihiro had come to expect it. It was usually answered by the higher pitch of a woman – though the voice was often left unanswered and seemed to be talk to itself much of the time. She would try to listen to the conversations, but would quickly become confused by the fast-paced whispers, and would slip back into sleep. Anything she might have heard and made sense of soon disappeared from memory.

Most times, there would be silence, and she would feel the press of a comfortably cool hand against her forehead, and listen to the soft breathing of its owner who must have sat next to her. She liked these times best.