The beautiful weather did not last long. A sunny afternoon melted into something much fiercer. Gray clouds blew in over the trees, painting the sky in monochrome shades. The rings’ light was hidden along with the sun. Snow swirled down in the forest. Everything was ivory and brown, mixing together in front of Fletcher’s eyes. 

There had been no time to waste after placing the clothing order for Hazel. If Logan was still alive he would not be for long if injured in this oncoming storm. 

However, the further into the forest he went the less hopeful he became. 

Logan’s scent was gone. It was as if the Hunter had not entered the trees at all. The brewing storm had brought more moisture into the air. His nose could not catch one sign of him in the snow. 

Perhaps he had his own pouch of herbs with him? It was a common enough instrument for hunting. If they had been using Hazel as bait it would have been wise. However Roland had had nothing on his person until he had been given one. 

The trees yielded nothing as he crested a hill overlooking Maple Hollow.  They kept their secrets, the howling wind speaking in a language unknown. Fletcher ignored the urge to call back. The instincts were always an itch that lingered just under his skin. If he scratched he’d need to tear himself in two. 

The town below was already lit up, the light from inside the homes and along the streets glittering in the gathering darkness. To the east, the horizon was bare, the telltale smoke absent this time. 

Though he felt quite at home among the shadows, he could go no further that night. Fletcher sighed and headed back down to Maple Hollow. 

When he arrived back in town it was already dark. The streets were mostly empty, harsh weather driving  anyone bold enough to walk at night inside. It was tempting to slip into Angela’s for a drink. Perhaps Hazel would be there, freshly bathed and dressed in something new?

No. Fletcher shook his head as he walked past the inn. The cleric was a stranger after all. It did no good to get attached to someone who will leave. To someone so fragile. 

Instead, he slipped into the clinic and into the recovery room.

 It was quite large, mostly used for those injured. The ill were separated,especially if they were contagious. But the only thing that was catching about Roland was his high spirits. Beds lined the walls. Barely more than a cot with four on each side. The sheets on each were freshly pressed,white and trimmed in crimson. Cleric colors. 

“Roland?”

“Mr. Black?” Hazel turned in the chair by Roland’s bed towards the sound of Fletcher’s voice.

The new dress fit them snug, drawing one’s gaze to the waist and chest. A black ribbon pulled the neck together and underneath a ruffled skirt stockings covered Hazel’s legs down to heeled boots. Their cloak lay over the chair’s back.

Roland looked away from where Hazel’s hands had been easing his pain towards Fletcher. 

“Mr. Black! My thanks for everything...” he sighed. “No Logan, I take it. I feared as much.” 

“No sign of your axe either,” Fletcher halted next to Roland’s bedside. He attempted a polite smile, finding it feeling derisive on his face. “A pity because I worked so hard on it.”

Roland looked over at Hazel, attempting to give them a warm smile. “Without Logan I am more concerned about the lass’s safety on the way back.”

Questions felt like ash on Fletcher’s tongue. Did Logan have a family? Was there a crypt to place his sword? Was it worth it?

“You’re in no condition to travel yet anyway, Hunter Roland,” Fletcher asserted. Blood and pain were still strong in the air, hanging like a mist. “When-” His eyes were for Hazel now,expression softening. 

They looked quite pretty in casual clothing. The tailor had told him that this style was popular with city women. Though he had not seen the ladies of Maple Hollow wear anything like it, he had taken the tailor’s word. 

“When do you need to be taken back to your Lord?”

“A little under one week now.” Roland answered for them. “We purchased her services for a month. Two weeks travel, two weeks huntin’.  We ended up just short o’ the week.” He chuckled. “Real shame. Dare say it’s nice having a pretty face at your bedside for a change.”

“What did you have in mind, Mr. Black,” they asked,turning expectant and gentle to him.

Fletcher swallowed hard. There was little choice, was there? He was the closest to a Hunter in Maple Hollow, even if his existence was the antithesis to the profession. Roland would be on the mend for a few more weeks at the very least. 

“I suppose I could escort you.” Guilt boiled unpleasantly in his gut as Fletcher spoke. The thought of traveling with Hazel should not make him so excited. He was not due a reward like this after it being his fault any of this happened. 

 “You would do that,”Hazel breathed, smiling. 

Roland’s gaze was wistful. “I am in no position to travel right now. Honestly? I haven’t been able to feel my left arm ever since,”he said,“I can’t protect you like this, and only the rings know where Logan is now. If he’s even alive.” 

Hazel rose to their feet and bowed deeply. “Very well, Mr. York. I wish you quick healing and a safe journey home.  I do hope to meet you once again.” Their wide smile was so genuine it almost hurt to look at, like staring into the summer sun..

.“So long, lass. Here’s hopin’ to see your lovely face in my dreams from time to time.” Roland laughed weakly..

Fletcher bowed at his waist. “Hunter Roland. Take care.” The fate of a Hunter was often soaked with blood. Perhaps Roland had escaped the worst of it. There was a pit in his stomach, filled with something akin to envy. What he would give to leave bloody work behind...

Then he turned back to Hazel. “You said you have just a week to get back. That does not leave us much time to dawdle.” The last thing he wanted was to get them in trouble with their Lord. “Can you send word to Lord Garth?”

“There is a grace period of an additional week for the return trip, especially in a situation requiring long travel like our own,” they said,”I believe we shall be fine, so long as we do not encounter too many problems.” 

“Very well."

Hazel stepped closer to Fletcher, lifting their cloak off the chair and into their arms. “I shall follow your lead, Mr. Black.”

“Of course, Miss Hazel.” Fletcher felt his face start to burn. He covered the blush with a cough into his fist. Then,with a wave to Roland, he left. 

He led them out of the clinic and into the streets. Night had deepened over Maple Hollow and so had the storm clouds. Heavy snowfall swirled and danced around the empty path. The street lamps,powered by Spark crystals, reflected off the heavy air in soft cotton puffs.  

Fletcher pulled his scarf tighter around his neck against the threatening chill. “We will leave bright and early in the morning. Have you gotten your dress cleaned yet?”

Hazel nodded, holding the hood of the cloak to prevent a stray gust of wind blowing it off. “It has been soaking since I left to visit Mr. York. Angela was watching it for me.”

“Good. She is smart as a whip with housekeeping.” Fletcher waved a hand. “She cleaned the blood out of my mother’s clothing when she came back from hunting.” 

The memory brought a fond smile to his face and he stifled it behind a gloved hand. “After you’re ready in the morning you can meet me in front of my home.” He glanced down at them,watching their hood bob along beside him. “It’s-err-right behind the smithy.”

Hazel nodded in agreement, “I believe I can find that.” 

They had reached the front of Angela’s inn. The cherry red door was inviting,the warm interior visible through the windows. There were loud ringing laughter and the clicking of glasses that could be heard by even human ears.

“Sounds pleasant,” Fletcher said. “At least there will be inns along the road. I do not fancy sleeping on the snow.” 

“I...would prefer to not sleep outside.” Hazel stifled a shudder. It was already cold enough let alone the thought of having to spend a night outside in it. “I will see you tomorrow, Mr. Black?”

His heart beat in his ears. Their eyes were so clear as they met his, like tree sap in the summer. Like honey on toast. Like topaz in the sun.

His hand twitched at his side. The sudden urge to take their fingers in his came over him. He was partially through the motion, the gloved ends of his hand brushing against their own.

Then Fletcher drew back, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth. “Of course, Miss Hazel.”

“I do not have many possessions so I should not be long in the morning,”Hazel said

The wind howled, too much like a wolf’s for comfort. It was too late to visit the cabin to gather his thoughts or let off any steam. That was a trek on its own.

“I’ll be as quick as I can,” Fletcher murmured.