Standing behind Heath, I scanned my surroundings, noticing the thick layer of ice coating each stone house. We'd already walked to the village south of the camp, and now stood in front of a door that hadn't opened since we arrived almost five minutes ago.

"Mulligan, come on! Open up!" Heath called out for what seemed like the tenth time.

"I don't think he's here..." I sighed, trying not to look at Oak when her head was hung low.

Maybe next time, girl.

Not convinced, Heath's knocking turned into full on banging, gaining the attention of villagers passing by. A few sideways glances and lingering stares were enough to make me want to go back to my life of hidden isolation, free to wander the deserted plains of Icadia without being noticed. But, in all my years spent in that lifestyle, I never came close to getting the answers I wanted. The answers I needed.

"Come on, old man! Stop being so stubborn and open the-"

Heath's voice broke at the sudden lack of icy wood connecting with his knuckles. His fist was still raised, like he was frozen in the act, and the final word to his sentence trailed out his open mouth just as I peeked over his shoulder.

"-door."

"You," the man seethed, his dark glare anything but welcoming as he eyed the brown-haired guy in front of me. "How many times do I have to tell you to stay the hell away from my house?!"

"Mulli! So good to see you too!"

"Do not call me that," the man warned, pointing a bony finger at him before his dull black eyes flickered over to me. His stare never strayed from mine until he looked back at Heath. "Get off my property."

"But, Mul-"

He couldn't even finish his plea before the heavy door slammed closed.

I stood there in awkward silence, letting out a disappointed sigh as Oak pressed her body against my leg. We were both hoping, something I never should have allowed us to do, and what did we get? Nothing. The despondency was deafening.

I'm sorry, girl. Looks like this was a dead end.

Oak's whimpers weighed my heart down, acting like an anchor that pulled me to the ground. She was always the more openly emotional one out of the two of us, and it built up a nurturing nature in me. To everyone else, I may be cold, but to Oak...I was anything but. 

Hugging her, I tried to cheer her up, but it was proving difficult.

We'll find someone else to talk to us, Oak. This guy isn't the only one with the answers.

But, we had already spent almost a decade trying to find someone who did...and faith was fleeting.

"Ah, come on!" Heath whined, causing me to look at him.

He had been watching us, that much was clear, and his expression was the mirror image of compassion. That was a look I wasn't used to receiving, and I didn't know if I liked it. There was a thin line between compassion and pity.

"Don't you have a heart, Mulli?!" he questioned, back to banging on the door. "I know you see their bond! I know you're interested in it! Quit being so stubborn!"

Standing up to pull Heath from the door, my eyes blinked over a large stone sitting against the house. It wasn't far from the entryway, and a thick layer of frost was settled over it, drawing me in. But, as I got closer, trying to decipher what the weathered engravings were, the door swung open. This time, the man didn't shoo us away. Instead, he stepped to the side and gestured for us to come in. The only things reminding me that he didn't want us there were his original reaction, and the scowl he wore on his face, presently.

Following closely behind Heath, I whispered to him, "Why would you offer to take me here when he clearly doesn't like you?"

"Who, Mulli?" he asked, as if it wasn't obvious who I was referring to. "He loves me."

That elicited a dry laugh from me. But, when I looked at the brown-eyed man beside me, he wore a calm expression.

"That was a joke, right?"

"Not in the slightest," he smirked, humored by my response. "Old Mulli happens to be my grandfather, and I'm the only grandchild that still visits him."

At this new piece of information, my mouth dropped open a second, but I closed it just as fast. However, my eyes were still wide, and when I glanced over to Oak, she was just as surprised as I. The pair looked nothing alike...but, it was possible that the heavy, white facial hair and wrinkles that accompanied age hid Mulligan's resemblance.

Feeling his stare on me drew my attention to him, noticing the way he studied me, like he could see me, but at the same time, like he didn't.

"You're a lynk," he stated plainly. There was no questioning in his voice. "For how long?"

"Nearly ten years," I answered, already feeling uncomfortable. I came here to ask him questions, not to be questioned.

"Hmph," he hummed with a condescending nature. "You were quite young when you died, then. What, fifteen? Sixteen?" he guessed, sizing me up with his tired, empty eyes.

"Eighteen."

Any time I was forced to think back to that day, the day I died, my throat would go dry. Perhaps because I'd watched someone die the very same way, and I knew in that moment what was nearing.

It wasn't something unforseeable or surprising--It wasn't unavoidable, either. No, my death was like an act of punishment for a crime I did not commit, and there was no way to free myself from the injustice. I stared my ruin in its face until my last, cold breath.

I had hoped to see my mother when I opened my eyes again. I wanted nothing more than to be with her, no longer in agony, clinging to the cursed world she left me to live in. But, I was sorely disappointed.

"Sparrow?" Heath called, leaning so that his head was level with mine. His eyes showed a hint of concern, and I turned away, not wanting to look at it.

"Is she challenged?" Mulligan complained, speaking to Heath. "Or just vacuous?"

"Ha, you're so funny, Mulli," Heath answered, laughing nervously when he saw a grimace forming on my face. "Of course not."

Oak was not any more pleased with the insufferable old man than I, but she was quick to remind me that we were here for information, not friendship, and that it didn't matter how he treated us as long as we got what we came for.

Focused on simply using him for the insight he could provide, I cleared my throat.

"I asked, how did you die?" he repeated.

"How did you die?" I countered, my stare hardening.

"That is none of your business," he practically growled, stepping toward me.

His movement caused Oak to step in front, protectively spreading her wings to make herself appear larger and threatening. I watched Mulligan, prepared to attack if he tried to do anything to her.

"Uh, why don't I make us some...tea? To warm us up?" Heath volunteered, already making his way to the cast-iron pot that sat over a small fire pit in the corner. His eyes scanned the room, most likely looking for flint and steel so he could light a flame, but his search was cut short.

"Don't bother," Mulligan grumbled, gesturing for Heath to get away from there. "I'm not wasting anything on the likes of you. Just ask what you want and leave."

"Gladly," I said, ready to get this over with.

What do you want me to ask him first?

Pulled into Oak's mind, I was slightly disturbed by what she wanted to know the most, but she assured me it was just curiosity, nothing more. I could feel the truth in her words, so that eased my initial worry, but the possible answer Mulligan would give tempted me not to voice the question. But, out of respect for my shadoe, I did.

"Can a shadoe-bond ever be broken?"

The old man tilted his head up slightly, watching my reaction as he simmered over what I had asked. His eyes flickered to Oak for a moment, but then he shrugged his shoulders like it wasn't a jarring question—but, to me, it seemed like the worst thing that could happen to a lynk or their shadoe. To be bondless...I couldn't imagine a fate like that. Not after I'd already met Oak.

"Of course a bond can be broken," he scoffed. His tone made my insides bubble, but I held my stone cold stare.

"How?" I asked.

I averted my gaze to Heath at the slight wince visible on his face, wondering what that was about, but was brought back to Mulligan when the loud sound of wood scraping against wood sounded through the stale air, caused by him pulling a chair out from under his rickety table.

"Ask a different question," he advised, his jaw visibly tense even through his long, mangy beard.

I would have pressed for an answer, but the pleading look in Heath's kind eyes convinced me not to. Oak seemed to agree that moving on was best, so I decided to ask a question that had been burning my second existence since the day after I died—the day I came back to life.

"All I've ever been told of lynks is that our deaths would rob the world of what it needs to survive, so God brought us back and linked us to a companion that would aid us in this...this quest for...I don't even know what."

"Get to the point," Mulligan interrupted, reminding me that this man did not care about my uncertainties. He just wanted me gone.

"What's our purpose? Why did we get a second chance when most don't?" I summed up, keeping it short, like he obviously preferred.

A bored expression claimed his face as he leaned back in his chair, tapping his foot against the dusty floor. When almost thirty seconds of silence had passed, I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to hold my tongue. 

I failed. 

"Well! What is it!?" I snapped, knowing that he was taunting me with his unspoken words.

That brought a smirk of satisfaction to his face, and it took every ounce of integrity I owned not to tackle the old man where he sat. 

"You may as well ask me why the sky is blue," Mulligan laughed, the noise cynical in nature and dwindling my patience with him. "There is no answer to your question, girl. You'll never know why He chose you. It'll haunt you till the day you die."

I tried.

With nothing motivating me to leave the bitter man in one piece, I lunged at him, my hands so close to his throat before I was pulled back, hitting my head against a solid chest. 

"Let me go, Heath," I fumed, prying at his grip, but he held me tightly by the waist, my arms trapped beneath his hold. 

"Sparrow, stop," he urged softly, turning us around so I no longer saw his grandfather, who wore a very amused grin on his weathered face. "He's antagonizing you, and you're giving him exactly what he wants."

I knew what he said was true, but my lack of social interactions made me easy to frustrate. I wasn't used to blocking people out, because I never had to before. I used to think that was a blessing, but now I felt like it made me vulnerable, despite my hard resolve. My emotions were too easy to rile up, and that was dangerous. 

"Why the hell did you bring me here?" I asked Heath, craning my neck so I could see his face. 

"I thought he'd see your bond and be different this time," he sighed, earning a haughty laugh from Mulligan.

"Well, once again, you were wrong," he mocked. "When are you going to get it? I'm not your grandfather anymore, and I don't want to see you, or your little lynk friends again!"

By now, Heath's grip had fallen, his arms hanging by his sides, limp as he took in Mulligan's words. His demeanor was so different from when I first met him—when he saved me from the ravenous wolf preparing to bite my face off.

"You don't mean that," Heath said, his stare holding Mulligan's. "You're just...grieving. Once this stage passes, you'll be back to normal."

"You're dreaming, and it's pathetic," the old man spat.

Oak's sorrowful purrs were like a sweet cadence, melting away the anger coating my heart. Lightly brushing her side against me, she waddled over to Heath, looking up at him with sadness in her eyes. She felt for him, and so did I. I wondered if he had someone constantly there to pick him up when he was down, and remind him that he was cared for. Surely he had to, but I doubted it could compare to the way a shadoe could uplift their lynk.

That's when it clicked for me, and I realized someone had been missing this whole conversation. They hadn't even been mentioned once. Remembering the stone I saw outside, a dejected thought developed in my mind—one I couldn't shake until I voiced it.

"Where's your shadoe?" 

The old man's body went rigid, halting the words he spewed at his grandson. I didn't miss the way Heath also stiffened, much like how he did earlier, when I asked how a bond could be broken.

"Don't speak of him," Mulligan cautioned, his eyes darkening in a menacing fashion, but I was not afraid of a feeble, bitter old man.

"Sparrow," Heath whispered, but I ignored both their warnings, determined to get one definite answer out of this trip.

"Did he die?"

The last word barely left my tongue before Mulligan stood up, pointing at his front door. "Get out of my house." When no one moved to follow his order, I watched his rage surface fiercely, like water bursting through a dam. "GET OUT!"

"Okay, okay," Heath spoke up, grabbing my arm and rushing us out the door, but my sights stayed on the broken shell of a man we left behind.

Oak flew through the opening, but the distance that grew as she took to the sky did nothing to lower the intensity of her feelings as they pulsed within me. She was devastated—not because we had been kicked out, but because of what she saw a shadoe's death could do to its lynk. How it could break them. And, another part of her worried what would happen if it were the other way around. If the lynk died. If I died.

"Oak!" I called out, wanting her to come back down so I could assure her we'd be alright, but she refused, knowing I wouldn't order her to. I wouldn't force her.

Don't go too far ahead, please.

That left me with Heath, who hadn't said a word since we left his grandfather's house. I normally wouldn't care to check on someone other than Oak, simply because she was my only family, but a part of me felt like I should have taken heed to his hint and dropped the the subject of Mulligan's shadoe. I guess what I felt was guilt.

"Heath-"

"Could we just...not talk?" he asked, his eyes never lifting from the ground as he tucked his ungloved hands into his pockets. His tone wasn't angry, or spiteful--it was defeated.

I started to think that maybe the trip to Mulligan's wasn't just for me. Maybe Heath thought he could somehow fix the man he used to know.

Already giving him what he requested, I kept my mouth shut all the way back to Camp Exodus. When we passed the frozen gates, I looked at the barely recognizable man beside me before turning to head back to my tent, hearing his footsteps taking him in the direction of Lydia's.

I could see Oak's shadow casting onto the uneven snow I walked on, and feel her inner storm calming, but as I watched her silhouetted image, my mind latched onto what someone had said earlier to me.

"I know you have questions about who you are. I had the same questions. Believe me, there's no answers."

He had known why I'd want to meet with Mulligan, and he already knew the outcome I'd face.

"You'll only come back disappointed."

I hated that he was right.

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Hi, guys! I had a rough time with this update, just because I wanted everything to be right. I don't even know if I achieved that 😅 but I tried.

Anyway, so, what are your thoughts on this chapter?

On Mulligan?

I'm interested to hear your thoughts 🤔.

Thanks again for reading! If you enjoyed it, please consider voting.

-Mac