The Sleepy Artist was cold.

Crane sat alone, at the counter. I could not hear Lughes, or Shelldon, but…

Closing the door behind me, I wondered if Crane would tell me to leave. If she would force me out.

Her soft smile as I approached gave me hope, but…

“She’s dead?” Crane asked softly.

I nodded. Unsure of what to say.

“I see,” she whispered.

The tall woman lowered her head. It drooped unnaturally low, thanks to her long neck. A little more and her forehead would hit the desk she sat at.

Although there was no storm, and it was the bright morning, there was no need to worry over anyone entering the building.

The streets I had just walked through had been rather empty. Thanks to the cold.

It wasn’t snowing, nor storming, but it was frigid. Even the bright sun wasn’t able to warm the world today.

Even I found the Sleepy Artist to be chilly. A fire needed to be started, and soon.

Yet I knew, somehow, that none would be lit.

Crane heaved a great sob, and reached up to cover her face. For a few long moments I listened to her crying, and wondered if I should be angry at her or not.

She’d weep so, yet had…

No… maybe it had been obvious.

They had been willing to accept the inevitable.

It was I who hadn’t been.

Was that simply my nature, or… was it more?

Was this the difference between predator and prey?

Crane’s crying didn’t take long to come to a stop, but her sniffing continued. For a long while the world was quiet, only marred by her nose.

“Lughes?” I asked gently, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Crane shook her head. “He’ll come back later.”

I noted the way she said later.

“Why?” I asked her.

Crane looked up at me, and I found red eyes. Not just from crying either.

The long night must have been quite rough on her.

“You’re right. We’re cowards, Renn,” she said.

“I… I apologize for saying that. I had been…” I started to speak, but she shook her head to stop me.

She took a deep breath and looked up, at the ceiling. To where faint cobwebs hid. “You’re right. We should have done what you did. It would not have mattered. She would have died all the same… but…”

I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed silent as Crane did her best to keep herself from weeping again.

“But she was family. I practically raised her… Lughes… Lughes and Shelldon won’t be back until you leave, Renn,” she then said.

“Leave,” I whispered, and felt my heart… or at least, what was left of it, shatter.

Crane nodded. “I’m sorry. But…”

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“But now I’m scary,” I said, and knew it was the truth.

She flinched, but nodded. “Yes. Although we… although they know you’d not actual hurt us, you had bared your fangs. You had faced us down, and we…”

They knelt. They bowed.

We had confronted each other, and it was they who had stepped aside.

It wasn’t just my act of taking Amber to the humans that had caused a rift.

It was the mere fact I had shown them I was willing to do what they didn’t want me to.

I had proven to them that I was willing to endanger myself, and thus them, when and where they weren’t and wouldn’t.

We couldn’t live together, because to them I was too dangerous.

Too different. And not just because of our appearances.

“I… I’m sorry, Crane,” I said.

Crane lowered her gaze back to me, and I knew by the way of her hardened look that she had just made a decision.

The same decision as Lughes and Shelldon.

“I am as well. Here…” Crane bent down a little, and grabbed something beneath the desk. After a moment she laid a small envelope onto the countertop.

It was bright red, and seemed a little thick. Not just because the paper was thick, but because there were many pages within.

“Inside is… a small map. It will lead you to where Vim is going,” she said.

Hesitating, I wondered if I should actually take it.

“There’s also a letter from Lughes. And Shelldon. You can read them if you want,” she said.

“Not one from you?” I asked her.

Crane’s eyebrows knitted as she shook her head. “No. I’ve nothing to say.”

She pushed the envelope farther across the counter, to imply I hurry and take it.

I didn’t want it.

“Is… is there nothing I can do? To stay…?” I asked gently.

Crane blinked, and for a small moment I saw a chance of hope. That moment barely lasted, as her eyes narrowed again.

“I’m sorry Renn,” she simply said.

My feet were heavy as I stepped forward, closer to the counter.

Upon drawing close enough, Crane arched back a little in the chair.

Suddenly very aware of how weary she was of me, I did my best to not begin weeping myself.

My hand was just as heavy as my feet as I reached up to the counter. With stiff fingers, I picked up the red envelope.

It was heavy. And not just because of how emotionally vested I was with it. It weighed as much as a bag of coins.

Carefully taking the envelope, I wondered what to say now. What to do.

“Goodbye Renn.”

The finality in her voice was very clear. Especially in this quiet building.

Stepping backward, away from the counter… I found myself once again a stranger.

Looking around, to the paintings. The ones on the walls, and upon shelves… I realized this was it.

It was over.

The precious home I had so wonderfully happened upon, was now lost to me.

And not because I had betrayed them, or had not been accepted… but simply because of a matter of different opinions. Different morals, perhaps.

“Goodbye,” I whispered. Not just to her, but…

Crane didn’t nod. She didn’t smile, or cry. She simply watched as I stepped away. Towards the door.

With heavy feet, I blinked watery eyes as I left.

Holding the envelope close, I wished I knew how to fix this. How to change what had happened.

Pausing before the door, right before I reached out to the handle… I turned a little.

Crane still sat there. Staring at me stiffly.

“The doctors thought it was the Primdoll family who killed her. They’re known for evil acts,” I said to her.

Crane’s head lowered a little, as she glared at me. Yet she said nothing.

“They’ve killed others. Like Amber. In the same way,” I added.

“Human actions. Done to other humans,” Crane said firmly.

Her voice carried somehow, as if sing-song like. It made my back go straight.

She spoke to me as if I were a stranger.

I had not heard that tone from her before. Even when we had first met, when she had been weary of me… it had not been as cold as it were now.

“Be careful, Crane,” I said gently. “Goodbye."

Opening the door, the little bell above it dinged loudly. Somehow that sound was really painful to my ears.

I’d never hear that bell again, would I?

Stepping out into the cold, but bright, day… I dared one last glance into the shop before closing the door.

Crane sat there, unmoving.

Closing the door, I listened the ringing bell behind the door for a moment… and then stepped away.

My eyes lingered on the painting in the window. The familiar village now seemed sad. Distant.

“Goodbye,” I whispered again.

Then I left.