A mark of four claws on a tree bark.

"Follow the trail made by carves of a bear," he reminded himself of what the girl told him to do, "seems like she wasn't lying, at least."

Leer ran ahead, following the marks Takara instructed him too. He scampered around much easier than Takara, and Takara began to be concerned he would lose track of the bear.

A green gem at the bear's collar shone strangely in the dim light, an odd object that gave away the bear's location in the woods. Takara decided he would have to remove it if they wanted to stay under.

His borrowed clothing had gotten damp, so he surmised it'd had been wiser if he remained in his previous clothes instead. However, blending into this country would probably be easier than looking like an outsider.

But how were they going to leave the country? Cross and Titus were probably in the country-- but the girl said the countrymen watched the seas carefully. What if they saw Cross and Titus as a threat? This wasn't good.

"Witch..."

Takara skidded to a stop, ducking behind a tree.

"Take down the witch!"

"Burn her down!"

The hollers were strong and full of rage. 

A whole crowd of villagers were marching up the mountain-- few were skimming through the woods from branch to branch, the leaves shattered into sound around Takara.

Perhaps it was because Takara wore their clothing, but no one paid any attention to Takara.

They were going up-- to where he remembered was the palace he had come from-- 

"Witch?" he whispered to himself.

The group was gone in moment-- like a passing torrent of turbulence. It felt vivid as ever within his senses-- but it was gone now. 

Takara let out a breath, failing to understand why he held it.

He felt preyed on. So, so dominated, it was scary. 

The village was out for murder, he realized. He didn't know who and what and why they were aiming for-- no, he as trying not to think about it.

He wanted to get out of here. Fast. Now.

Someone crashed right into him.

"Fuck, out of my way--" 

Takara stumbled, but held onto a tree for better support. The boy that crashed into him was smaller-- yeah, it was right about as small a figure as Cross-- but in stark contrast to him, the boy's hair was a pale, pristine white.

Like the girl's, Takara realized.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded, stepping back. Drawing a kunai, he had noticed Takara wasn't a man of the country. 

Takara had no weapons on hand.

"You-- fuck, are you the spy?" he groaned, "you're the companion of those bloody intruders, aren't you. You came from the fucking mansion!"

Takara flinched-- intruders, that was Cross and Titus-- spy? the mansion.

His gold eyes narrowed in anger-- the white-haired boy clutched his kunai in irritation.

"Woah, dude," Takara tried to keep his cool, assuring the boy he had no weapons, no signs of hostility in him-- "I don't know what's going on. Calm down."

That only seemed to infuriate the boy further.

A kunai stabbed deep into the tree beside his face-- "you turned on a light in the mansion, didn't you?"

Takara's eyes widened-- Suddenly, everything made sense.

The girl told him she was the last of her clan. That meant she wasn't supposed to be there. The windowless rooms, the lack of lights she threw off as saving fuel. The parade of witch-hunting men.

"She stayed there, fifteen goddamn years alone, safe from the villagers," the boy's voice seethed with pure malice, "you had to ruin it with your careless actions!"

Careless actions-- Takara remembered the girl's mildly panicked look when she found him in the library. The quick flicker of the lights. The sharply shut curtains.

He remembered the animosity of the villagers.

Fuck, he realized, fuck, I messed up.

He knew nothing about the girl-- but now, he knew that he'd be the cause of her death if he did nothing now.

The boy had white hair and gold eyes-- exactly like the girl up there. The resemblance was uncanny... like twins.

"She's all I have left," his voice broke, "you wouldn't fucking understand. No one ever does. All they care about is the fact that this island isn't theirs yet."

The boy did not speak any longer.

Pulling out the kunai from the tree he impaled, he sent Takara one last glare before he dashed back on his route.

Takara watched the boy leave-- and felt a familiar boil of hatred well up in him.

"In this corrupt world, civility and humanity mean nothing in the face of status, power, fame and wealth,"  the red-haired man promised to a girl, "I want to change it, I will, and that's my dream. If anything, I promise you I'd never give up on it."

He remembered watching everything go up in flames, crushing and despairing and destroying all to bits in the arsonist disaster that left only one reported survivor. 

Takara sighed.

His eyes lit up with a new resolve in him-- and he headed down the mountain at a quicker pace, speeding up to catch up with the bear that he had long lost sight of.

ー

ー

ー

Visul walked.

Her footsteps soft and silent in the mansion, she entered the library. Shifting past the labyrinthine bookshelves, she made it to a door. 

The door opened into a small room, with only a small grave, a shrine for a woman she never called by name. A muffin was on the desk, perhaps a little munched on.

Seeing that, she chuckled, knowing it was the bear.

She liked the bear, it was cute. The man was a kind-hearted man, she remembered, but she didn't want him to meddle in her business.

Closing the door behind her-- locking it shut, Visul brushed her hands over the desk that didn't have a speck of dust on it-- she sat down on her knees before the shrine-- and closed her eyes. 

There, she waited.