Tobias falls asleep on his chair, right next to Lir’s bed.

They talked. A lot. Enough for Lir to convince himself that he’ll never need to talk to him again because he’s had his fill. Of course, it doesn’t work that way, but it’ll have to, since he’s already making plans on how to leave Tobias behind.

Lir starts by moving his toes underneath warm, silk sheets. Once he gets a grasp for the feeling, he moves on to his ankles, and makes circles with them, watching, as they create creases, mountains, on top of the bed.

Then, once he is ready, he takes a deep breath, and allows his foot to touch the ground.

Lir doesn’t feel stable. He’s convinced he’ll fall again if he attempts walking for real, so he settles for crawling on his knees, which is always better and more discreet than sliding his belly along the ground like a pitiful, lost caterpillar.

The floor is colder than he’d expected as he makes his way over to his shirt and his pants, that are both hung high across a line of laundry, next to Tobias’s clothes, most of them tinted green, brown, or black.

Lir takes a deep breath; in, then out. He braces himself. He stands. His legs are still trembling, and Lir quickly snatches his belongings before he drops back down to the floor, on his knees.

Where dampness once resided in the fabrics now lies the soft feeling of dry cotton mixed with the scent of lavender. Tobias washed them, Lir realizes, surely while he was asleep.

Lir slips into his attire. He glances back once, over his shoulder, and sees Tobias has yet to rouse; his mentor probably won’t for a while. An hour ago, he had explained to Lir how worried he’d been. How he had stayed up, through the night and the day, to make sure Lir would be okay. And this is even more the reason why Lir cannot stay.

People as kind as his mentor are rare in this world. Lir needs him. But this land needs Tobias’s heart even more. He couldn’t, under any circumstances, put him at the risk of ceasing to exist.

Lir inches past a rectangular opening of stone, covered by two thick cream-colored curtains. He leaves the yurt. Outside, the sight of a fading sunset greets him. Soft, pink clouds have begun to merge with the night that threatens to swallow them whole without mercy.

Soon, they return to their original meek, shades of grey.

He hauls his limbs across the sand. His skin digs into it, itchy, and red. It occurs to Lir that he’s been doing this a lot lately—leaving people when they are asleep. Even so, the feeling that accompanies this escapade different than the last. There is no excitement for the future. Only guilt, fear, and other feelings that swarm his mind, making noise only he is able to hear, a type of sound Lir could not explain with words even if he tried.

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*

To travel from one side of the shore to the other is a grueling task. Lir cannot say how long it has been, but the stars showed their faces long ago, and his knees are scraped red from having dragged them through the heavy weight of sand, without ever stopping once.

Footsteps—they echo in the air. Leaving marks, traces and scratchy sounds against the beach’s golden soil.

Lir pauses. These footsteps, they are not his.

A hand grasps his shoulder. It doesn’t let go. “You should be glad I wasn’t a foe.” Tobias’s voice is a menace. “I could have gutted you with ease.” It is low—a warning—and Lir freezes, for he does not know this man, this side of him.

He wonders if he was not wrong after all, for thinking Tobias views him as the same child he was several moons ago. Back then, his mentor would have never mentioned such violent things.

Lir turns to face him. Even the glint in his gaze is less forgiving, more aware—sharper—not lenient at all. “Where were you planning on going? You have no provisions, Lir. You have no weapon. You can barely stand on your own two feet, and it’ll be obvious to anyone who gets a good look at you that you are more Halloran than human now.”

Halloran, during Lir’s stay, neither of them had pronounced the word. It had remained unspoken, taboo. “Elsewhere,” Lir mutters, as his head hangs low and his shoulders tense. It’s shameful, really, that he’s unable to deny he’s as useless as Tobias claims. “I thought I’d figure it out along the way.” The words are a lie though. Lir hadn’t thought at all. He just wanted to get away, to be far from Tobias before his mentor got involved and invested, as he always does.

“You can’t do that.” Tobias shakes his head. “It doesn’t work like this in the world you’ve just entered. We aren’t playing house here, Lir. Life outside the village—life as a Halloran—is being killed or living by killing another. No plan means no life. Let me help you, please,” he begs. “At least, for a part of your journey.”

“But why?” Lir doesn’t mean to, but he raises his voice anyway. “Why would you help me? What are you getting out of this in return? What about your job, and your friends?” He leaves out the word lover, because it is too painful. Lir would rather not know, or at least, delay knowing for as long as he can, if it’s possible. “You’re okay with leaving all that behind? I don’t get it.”

There is another mute lull between them, until Tobias sighs again, and finally releases Lir from his grasp. He walks past him. Then ruffles his hair. “Wouldn’t you do it for me?” He isn’t looking at Lir anymore, but at the ocean’s waves, that are rather calm tonight.

Lir’s lips part. He realizes that he would—without even giving it a second thought—if such a curse were to befall his mentor. Though, he merely stays silent, and nods.

Tobias pats the large leather bag that hangs from his shoulder. “I’ve packed most of what we’ll need for our journey,” he says “A fisherman’s boat always leaves this island at sunrise. We’ll can sneak on; it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

Their eyes meet, as a sun and a forest would. “Where are we going?” Lir asks him.

His mentor smiles. “The capital, Aglia.” He shifts on his feet, and motions to the horizon with a slight tip of his head. “I have a friend who may be able to help you there.”