Noël frowns, face set in a deadpan expression. “I do not know how to phrase this delicately, so I’ll just say it at once.”

He thinks back to the grotto, to those lost souls and cremated skeletons. The faint glow of fireflies flicker strongly in his mind. He can still see the faceless girl in old fashioned garb, unable to depart from the dwelling that caused her so much misery in life. Blood, metallic, pungent blood, its smell is overwhelming, and as he closes his eyes he can still see the horrific view of blood, blood, blood pooling around the corpse of a man he hated. There is a flash of red, and for a moment he sees short, wavy chestnut brown hair and kind, bespectacled crimson eyes.

Noël’s breath hitches, but Rue’s voice grounds him. In a sense, it might be nice to have the hunter accompany him on this trip. He knows that he is not a kind soul, but being around Rue—

For once, Noël can pretend that he isn’t quite so hollow. His heart, which stopped beating long ago, might not be as dark as he knows it to be. At least, in this here and now, he can pretend to be the better person that he knows he is most certainly not.

“The store we were in…Emerett, he—” a sharp intake of breath, and then an exhale. “He was stealing bones from a grotto. That man was murdering children, all for the sake of his dolls.”

“Rue, I don’t know what to do.” Tears prick at the corners of Noël’s eyes, but his mouth is knit in a straight line. “I want to help them, but…they’re dead.”

And it’s all my fault.

If I had been better, if I had known more about Aunt Delia, could I have prevented their deaths?

The vampire lets his words linger in the air, reluctant and unwilling to admit his role in this tragedy. Or, rather, the unwitting role his beloved Aunt Delia played in this sadistic business. “I don’t want to let this happen again.”

“It’s my fault…I’m so sorry.” He smiles, but it is shaky. Wavering…and not entirely sincere.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Who or what he is apologizing to, Noël does not know.

Rue reaches out towards the red-eyed boy. There’s something… almost recognizable in his actions. He’d wrack his brain for some sort of memory, but he knows whatever they may be, the answers will elude him. Still, with this proclamation, he cannot leave this heartbroken child to pick up the pieces of his shattered heart. No matter what he says or does, he is well aware it will never be enough…not until they find the source of his woes. Only then, will his heart be able to mend itself.

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Still, still, Rue can relate. There is not much that he remembers about himself, but this apology? It is familiar. “I know how you feel.”

“No, you don’t, kid.”

How old am I? Noël is twelve. He’s been this age for longer than the kind hunter has been alive.

Eons and eons. All he has known is loss. This loneliness and helplessness is all that his life has ever amounted to. Will ever amount to. He should be used to it. He is used to countless lifetimes filled with untold tragedies, but even he cannot help but desire some sort of reassurance. Noël told himself that he does not deserve kindness or hope, but he has always been a selfish creature at heart.

“Losing someone is a terrible, indescribable experience.” Noël stares at his hands. He doesn’t know what to think.

“The feeling of one day waking up to realize your loved one is not there and you’ll never see them again…it’s maddening. It’s like walking in a forest. Whichever way you go, all you see are trees. Light peeks out from the treetops, but it’s only a slight sliver. The forest is not quite bright, but not dark, either.”

He buries his face in his hands.

Rue…even he is still. Only the gentle flutter of crimson leaves breaks the tranquil peace of these autumn woods.

Distantly, you are aware that there is kindness, and light, and laughter somewhere, far, far away…you know that your life is not over, even if you may want it to be. But…even if some part of you does realize this, it’s no use. What if you don’t want to leave that forest? To leave is to forget. You’ll always have their memories with you, but what good is that? Would reveling in a fantasy from the past be more preferable to missing them every single moment…even though you know they will never come back?

Their world is so very dark and silent. Trees loom overhead and nothing can be seen from the heavens above.

Sure, he remembers these lost souls now. They say the second death is when everyone that has ever known you passes on, and the third death is when all of your achievements and valued works disappear…only then, will you die once they too are forgotten.

But…unlike those wretched souls from that grotto, he will live on. His life is eternal, but his memories are not.

What will happen when he forgets them? He does know that his ties to them are completely negligible in scope, and not connected to their perceived sense of reality and presence. However, he cannot help but tell himself that it is a betrayal to forget.

They, whose lives were snuffed out due to matters involving him, his family…they have been lost forevermore. He cannot grant them life or rewind the clock to happier days, but the least he can do is remember them…alas, as he has lived for far too long, he knows after a decade... perhaps even two or three, they too, will be forgotten.

How many friends had he lost along the way?

“You may have memories, but they pale in-comparison to seeing them everyday—to know that they still breathe.”

Noël did not mean to speak this much. Goodness knows, he did not desire to divulge this much information. Nor did he want to discuss his innermost thoughts and musings out loud, but…he had always been a poet at heart. Or, maybe a tiny bit sentimental, if he were to be honest. Rue, he is…rather easy to talk to. Though, maybe ‘easy’ is not the right word to use. It’s been so long since he’s had real human contact; maybe the vampire missed the presence of another in some inane sort of sense?

He glances back at the hunter, only to see his head is downcast. The emotions whirling in his one visible golden eye is indescribable, though… Noël had never been one for reading the moods of others.

Shoot, have I made things awkward?

Is he mad?

Does he no longer want to be around me…not that I can blame him……

“C’mon, Mister Rue.” Noël heaves a sighs. He is not entirely sure what time of day it is, but judging from how long they’d been walking, it is most likely quite late. “I’d rather we reach the grotto by nightfall.”

Rue is fiddling with his scarf. He looks up, but his voice is light and timid. The red-eyed boy has to strain his ears just to catch his words—they are so very small and barely above a whisper.

“Of course, Noël.”

The two are silent as their footsteps quietly carry them across the forest. It is a bone chilling stillness that surrounds them, and yet, it is only in the absence of sound that Noël finds the silence to be unbearably loud.

He wishes their destination would arrive sooner, but wherever that final blessed place would be…he does not know.

The two lost travelers continue their descent down this path of crimson and orange-tinged trees. Wherever the road may take them, Noël only hopes that he will not regret its outcome in the very end.