Traveler

Within an ever-darkening space rested a flame, one that flickered with no more strength than that of a match head.

It had once illuminated the depths of the void in which it floated, but that time had passed, the great flame had been diminished; and the flame that sat within his heart, same as the sun above, did little to warm him.

The fire managed to grow smaller each day and now was on the verge of dying away into smoke, finally.

No matter what method he tried, Kyle could not soothe the throbbing in his head. The result of an old injury, and all he could do was suffer through it. The trip was spent with his eye closed; arms crossed, and a resting scowl that was simply inherited, but certainly the reason no one took the seat beside him.

It had been a lengthy train ride to this town in the mountains, where he had spent many short summers during his childhood and his grandmother had left her house for him.

Despite how uncomfortable ride might be, it was one he was eager to board.

"After all this time, might I forgive myself, knowing at the least you will be saved." She had whispered. The words of his grandmother floated through his head. He remembered them now more so than her final image speaking the, lying in a hospital far from her home, in a room that meant nothing. She was a woman who had known loss, and had lost not just a husband but, all her children to a vicious cycle. It was something she had grown to realize and confided in him.

"What is it for?" She had asked, but he had no answer. It wasn't to protect the innocent. He rarely found justice in his actions, nor was he eased by the faulty reasoning that had been taught to him long ago. For everyone saved, somewhere in the gray countless more were lost. People who had been innocent in their own way became monsters as the cycle spun wildly out of control. That was what he had come to see firsthand.

Monsters are molded, built up, made, not born.

He wished his thoughts would settle or focus on the present. Without fail, his resting mind only desired to make him restless. His grandmother had known more than she ever shared with their family or even with him, and she was wise enough to quickly understand how desperately he needed to get away.

It was not so much a crowd a group, they had left the other cars behind in Seafield, not many people would travel this far north. Once the train car had emptied, he grabbed his bag. He traveled with little, knowing there was the house waiting.

Though he did not want for money, Kyle was trying not to spend such pay that came with a price.

There were faces at the back of his mind, grim, cold, and all of them dead. Gone for many reasons, but money had never been one.

Kyle forced his mind to wander off those thoughts.

A house and a diner, it wasn't a bad setup to inherit—his own place, far enough away from his old place. Up here in the mountains where no one would care to come find him.

Here would be a distant place to let himself decay, to finally allow that weak flame to be extinguished. With that reassurance, the haunting faces once again laid back to rest.

It would not be long now before his life ended.

That was what Kyle expected and when the darkness finally closed its fist, smoke leaking between its fingers into the emptiness of the other world, he might know his answer to the question she had asked.

What was the reason they existed?

It wasn't a far walk from the train station into town however, it was cold; two jackets, a scarf, and a hat, frigid. He took a breath, thankful there was no sea breeze to remind him of home. The mountains rose high in the distance, snowcapped and watchful, protecting the town in its valley.

Kyle found it not much of a town to someone who had lived in cities their whole life. Town was a gracious word for it, the train station was larger than the small main street where his own diner was placed between a secondhand store and possibly the smallest market he'd ever seen. It more than seemed that the largest part of the town was the farmer's supply shop.

The town of Nebsa, population four hundred and twenty-five.

It had tried to expand beyond its small-town nature, it was the whole purpose the train rails were laid to reach this far north. He found some familiarity with this place, a flickering flame that ignited in the night and burned so fierce and fast everything was gone by the morning. Nebsa was simply a fire that never spread and was put out long before it could burn out. The left half of town was nearly untouchable as a good portion was under construction for a college that had ceased construction the last summer Kyle spent here.

That summer had been years ago, yet nothing had changed. This was just another place quite possibly denied its purpose forever. Kyle was drawn to it on his walk, noticing how it had come to resemble something now tarped off, the bones of the building seemingly ancient like ruins. They had promised completion by the new year, but it was a joke to believe they meant this new year or even the following.

No, they must be speaking of some new year in the distant future, whoever they had been, or were.

The diner was not far from the body of that monstrous half-built college. He approached the door and his eyes fell to the logo.

"Rita's Diner" displayed in yellow lettering, his fingers reached toward her name, but before smudging the glass Kyle tucked the hand back into his jacket pocket.

A brick propped the door open and though it could, the winter temperature did not follow in with him. A small town, yet he noticed it was surprisingly busy within the warm walls of the diner. He counted the eyes that turned to inspect him. A small town meant a close-knit community, and, in a way, it could be a closed-off community.

"Kyle!" A woman's face greeted him, her vibrant brown hair was now dulled by age, but her freckled face, finally cracking with laugh lines, was unmistakable.

"It's so good to see you!" Yesim hugged him,

"I hope the road from the station wasn't too uneven." She said. Kyle was unaccustomed to embrace, and it reminded him of the closeness between others lacking in the society that formed him.

"It was no problem." Though it was Yesim who embraced him, it was Kyle who hesitated to release her from it. The roads here, were still mostly dug out trails of dirt, the few vehicles here were trucks that could further dig out paths. Far different than Seafield's brick roads or even farther south, the cars and concrete that trampled and smothered the forest.

It wasn't the most spacious diner, the booths were snug against the windows offering a decent view—small, but there seemed plenty of room for a pool table which sat off in the dimly lit corner. He followed her to the bar taking a seat.

"Do you need a drink?"

"Yes, thank you" Kyle said, noticing the man to his right as the elderly patron glanced over.

The woman serving him, Yesim, was his grandmothers' partner in both this business and in most matters after his grandfathers' death.

"Coming up." Her voice had a nearly musical tone to it as she brought the pitcher over.

"As for walking, don't think I won't be driving you up the mountain. It's the least I can do since you didn't board up and sell the place." She said as he watched her write something down on a quick scrap of paper, tucking it in her pocket.

"Why did someone make an offer?" Kyle jokingly asked as Yesim.

"Everyone'll be making offers; this place will be a hot commodity once the college is finished." She stated in a matter-a-fact tone.

"Oh, you mean those ruins I passed walking here?" Kyle would have been content just asking his coffee, but a sudden burst of laugher brought his eyes up. The older mans laughter was met with Yesim rolled her eyes.

"Let's hope it stays that way." Piped the man, Yesim scoffed at them both before turning toward the kitchen window.

"The last thing this town needs are southern kids." The old man added.

Kyle had to ignore the look he was given by quite a few people, obviously agreeing with the sentiment. He couldn't blame them. Kyle came here because it was far from home. He'd too like to keep home far from him.

"So, you're Rita's grandson?" He asked turning in Kyle's direction with an extended a hand that the younger man accepted with a shake.

"Yes, Kyle LaBowe."

"Ronnie Beck." He introduced himself.

"Your grandmother made a place where you could come and relax after a day of hard work. She was a great woman. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you." Kyle said. Of course, his grandmother had meant something to others as well. Her memory wasn't his alone to hoard. His voice must have sounded somber because the man smiled back.

"Hey, Kyle," Yesim said, pulling him back from wherever he had lost himself.

"I'm going to take my break now. How about that ride to the house?"

He nodded, thanking the man once again as he stood.

Ronnie reached forward, firmly snatching his hand. He looked at Kyle, with an expression the younger man read as a brief warning in those aged eyes. In a way, Kyle understood this silent expression better than Yesim's hug. In the eyes meeting his, he was reminded of home.

"Don't mess it up, Kyle." The man said, then with a smile, Kyle's hand was free.

Kyle couldn't help looking back once more before he followed Yesim through the back door.

In time he came to be glad he hadn't tried to walk; it would have been far beyond the brisk stroll from the station to the diner. The ride was not unbearable, he thought on the vast difference between the lush seating of the train compared to the tore and sturdy seat now had in Yesim's well-worn truck.

"I know you don't remember much, but if you need anything, you can always ask me." She reassured. Yesim didn't talk at first, and when she did, it was business. A conversation he had expected considering Yesim was running his grandmother's business when she was gone, and no one in the family had reached out to her about it in some time.

"Once you feel comfortable I can step back." She said.

Her reassurance that Kyle would learn the ropes and be able to take it over completely in no time was wasted. He did not interrupt to say this, to him there was no need to voice aloud that he had no intention of taking over the diner, this was all temporary, it would end soon enough; tonight, or tomorrow, or this very moment if he was so lucky.

"What will you do when you step back? " He asked despite how hard he found it to pull his attention from beyond the window.

"I'll go back to teaching." She answered.

"Why do you work in the diner to begin with?" Kyle asked, he knew little about her, having met during his lost time, so he'd been surprised by her answer to his previous question, failing to catch the tone in his next that revealed this.

"I had a much better opportunity before they halted construction, the only reason I moved here. Rita offered me a great opportunity where I could bide my time. Next thing you know, I've bought a house and partnered on a business." She looked out the window.

"I know many may not want it, but the college was my dream." Her words had trailed off as she gripped the steering wheel.

On the western side of the valley, up along the ridge and down a dirt driveway; sat the two-story wooden house whose porch wrapped around the first floor.

Rustic would be a compliment, dilapidated was unfortunately the first description. They pulled in front of the house; its wood siding a long-haul meal for termites.

No, it was too much of an insult to describe the house in such ways despite the missing boards that allowed the sunlight to leave the porch below well-lit from above. This place was far more than its appearance, and he was reminded of this as the dark green curtains hanging in the windows reflected the forest around them; pulling him toward a memory of the past, one that seemed just as slightly out of reach as the door to the house before him.

The pause in their conversation had left Kyle reaching for the door the moment the house was in sight, leaving him stuck as she caught him off guard.

"So, a personal question for a personal question, before you run off?" Yesim asked

He turned back toward her with a nod.

"Actually, we'll save that for a later date." She decided with a light, leaving him growing nervous over her possible definition of the word "personal."

I am sure she wishes to know what has brought me here, is it something she is unsure I will answer or something she is unsure she can ask?

He could only wonder, as they shared a goodbye, he agreed with himself he would answer whenever that later date came.

Kyle was left to face the house alone.

While slightly disheveled the home still had its powers, in his grandmothers' house, worries melted in the kitchen, fights stopped at the threshold. Peace was the only thing allowed within these walls. Yet the peace beneath this roof did nothing to spark the dying flame in him, he had not expected it to.

As he entered, a cascade of memories seemed to flow around him. Then the darkness formed, like a stone in the river, it stood strong blocking the memories from pouring out further. His headache returned, as if a great clap behind him sent pain forward until it could go no further than his eyes which he would squint as if in thought.

He dropped the bag at the door, kicking off his boots. Then he began unzipping his jackets until he was only in running pants and a long-sleeved black shirt.

Finally, Kyle yawned, the ware of his travels creaked him to a halt.

Sleep or eat. He debated, too exhausted to settle his mind on.

The first room one entered was the kitchen, then the living room. To the right were the stairs that led to the second floor, where there were two bedrooms, higher still was a third floor, a smaller room that could be entered by either its separate door or a hatch from the second floor. In youth, that private space had always been the room his younger relatives would bicker for.

While he'd slept his way through the three-day train ride from the most southern end of the eastern coast to Seafield in the west, it was the last nine-hours to this town that had been more uncomfortable than he'd predicted.

It was shortly after unpacking what little he had brought that Kyle was pulled by the desire to move, to stretch out his aching back, to see how time had eaten away the house, how much of the land was concurred by the ceaseless forest.

Not wanting to make the same mistake twice, Kyle made time to find the second hat.

He walked down the porch steps and leaned to the side until a pop in his shoulders resulted in the sensation that he'd shed a great weight from them.

It was an aimless walk, that was, until he reached an opening in the rows of timber; bare land was often an omen. He was set at ease to remember the reason was a lake that covered much of the clearing, this ease gained back its weight and dropped into his gut as he noticed the deer carcass.

A buck laid out close to the water's edge, blood mixing in with the mud. Shredded flesh, ripped apart, exposed bone, all the soft parts stripped away. Kyle was quite familiar with such a scene, the ease that had grown heavy and transformed now rose into his through alongside his guard.

In a side glance a quick movement of snow caught his eye, a flurry? He turned his attention, and then that second look, he saw her.

I've never seen a wolf with such a vivid image before, I'd have never thought it possible for one like that to still exist.

Some could hide amongst people with normal features, others though, others could never; and her appearance, like snow, froze him. Someone so visibly amongst those touched by the moon's light, yet here she was, bare from changing form when it was so cold he could see his breath. She was small for a wolf, or perhaps all females were smaller, they were far rarer to see; still her sunken stomach and countable ribs made clear to him that her thin frame had little to do with her nature. Skin as pale as her white hair, with large orange eyes that met his own and reminded of the apricots that grew wild along the southern shore. It was the first instance where a thing that reminded him of home was not a thing he immediately came to loath.

Kyle spoke before he could think of what he should say, or if he should say anything at all. Before saying anything at all, he was peeling off his jacket a quick movement, a decision to distract himself from other instincts. Then the words fumbled out before he again was pulled toward thoughts of what he would have done.

"Nice weather for a swim?" Surely not the best question to form as his malfunctioning mind spun, he watched a deep red fill her cheeks, the color same as the deer's splashed blood against the equally pale and graying grass. There was no answer from her as she only stared with a gaze her felt saw straight through him.

What is she seeing? He wondered, was what he was as clear to her as she was to him,

Do even we have a tell that gives us away.

It seemed she had decided there was no reason to answer such a foolish question and whatever it was she saw before her that had paused her did so no longer. The short woman became a giant wolf, her body arching forward and her snow like skin ripping into white fur. In one movement she was beyond the tree line, back into the forest that those like her called home. Despite the space between them he had stepped back from her in those seconds, and after she was gone he continued to stand there, his heart pounding against his own well covered ribs, and within each racing beat a small warmth began one blamed upon that same racing heart.

Finally out of distractions, thoughts now undeterred fell upon him with a crash.

One of the moon touched so close to the house, even closer to the town, the forest grows bolder as it tries to grow on further.

They flooded his mind with paranoid questions. The maybes, and what-ifs,

What if she returns with her pack, is it likely she knows what I am or has she seen me as no more than another human, if there are more will it force my hand? Despite those questions one nagged his deeply ingrained scope of reality, it challenged his instincts,

why didn't she attack me? If she saw me as no more than a human, was into the standard for them to protect the secret of their identity?

It was during this frenzy of thought that Kyle now noticed the way his hand clung to his side, a reflex toward a defense he no longer desired, a pit of disgust festered in his gut.

With her appearance, there must be no need to protect an identify that can never be kept secret. The warmth was blown away by the icy breeze that passed through him.

Kyle had come to a decision on debate he had not realized he was engaged in.

Then, before he knew it, he was taking off his second hat, his black sweatshirt to follow and the jacket that encased it. He often impressed others with his ability to act without thought, that same trait worried about the same number of people that it entertained. The only thought Kyle was currently entertaining was, she'd still be cold with only that.

This thought resulted in Kyles's sprint, a crisp dash as he froze along the short path back to his new home an old haven.

He tumbled through the door in the same elegant manner that his words seemed to flow with, with another thoughtless action he had started a fire in seconds.

The great iron fireplace, a home for the bats to enjoy during the summer months roared with heat.

As his head thawed before the crackling fire its titian glow reminded him of the eyes that met his, thoughts caught up with actions, he realized what he'd done.

Sleep. He concluded, falling into the worn-out leather couch, he rolled toward the nightstand. Books left unread years ago still stood stacked beside the lamp. His grandmother had not been one for tidying up, even over the years. She also thought books made excellent decorations stacked around.

So, he'd have to clean, a minor annoyance when compared to how much he cherished the calm this house brought. It was seen in the way he so easily drifted into sleep. As his grandma had always intended, it was their haven when the world they lived in became too heavy to carry further.

Kyle laughed, a sign to him that he was nearly as far gone as he'd been told, a hunter losing his fire, a man beneath the sunlight who could not find warmth. The fire popped to catch his attention yet as its light grew brighter, the small flame in him continued to struggle just to stay lit. There was a hiss in his ears from an instinct enraged as he ignored it. He found himself silencing it further as he wondered about the person and not the form. He thought about who The Society instructed and built him to be, the person who would have conjured a weapon, who would have been ready to protect, but in that instance, really, who was there to protect from such a scrawny and starving creature? He was no longer sure he was meant to be the person who would not have left his jacket, but another body beside that buck. That's what he had claimed to want, a place to be the person he had awoken as, at least for these last few days or months before the part of him he'd lost finally die away. That's what he would do; even if the instinct of his body did not agree with the mind now ruling it, even if letting that flame die meant letting himself follow with it. He would remain here so briefly he could do nothing to alter this place.

Kyle wished to go before he could mess it all up. An out of place coincidence in their realities, for two like them who were at odds to stumble upon each other out of all the other people they could meet in the world.

For once, his paranoid mind full of self-preservation shifted perspective.

He fell asleep, wondering if the woman would take the clothes. His dreams were his encounter replayed again, and again, changing ever so slightly. Dreaming she'd spoke to him words he could not remember, stepping toward him as a small auburn light illuminated her image.

As the night dragged, he rolled, he stood beneath the trees now frosted over, her skin pulled taunt over her bones as she curled into herself beneath snow that fell with force, he extended his had but this time it was not to offer a jacket, his open hand was a clear message as he reached forward.

Of course, he was only free in the unimpeded depths of his wishful thinking, meeting her again, offering to help a wolf, a moon plagued, a being from the monster's forest, that would be a side of him the man he was in the lost time might never have allowed, though he could not say for sure as that man was no longer himself, only a stranger left behind.

Even though the faces he remembered, those he had awoken to find gone, they all had killers too. He could stop his part in it now, he could fade out, but only his part could end. As Kyle knew that the strength it would take to change anything far-reaching was not one a dying flame like his could possess.