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Cassidy
- Uri Fairchild -

The vixen sat all alone at the bar, the drink she had ordered hours ago untouched in front of her. She was thinking, as she had been ever since she had returned to this place and had heard the rumors. At least, they had started off as rumors, but the facts had come in and now the rumors were true. A truth that was more comforting and more horrifying than the rumors ever had been.

Her enemy was dead. She should have been happy, or at least relieved, but all she felt was… well, she didn’t know what she felt.

She had never seen him as an enemy, not exactly. Oh, her mind had known it all along. Her thoughts told her quite clearly that she would be dead if she ever met him again. She had escaped his clutches twice, which was more than lucky. The first time, she had been saved from torture and death by another. That itself caused the rest. Her enemy was not one to be trifled with, and the fact that she had escaped must have burned his pride like acid. So he had hunted her. She had made the mistake of staying out after dark when everyone else had gone. She was easy prey then. She had almost given up when she realized that he was there, but a part of her had refused to surrender. She had screamed, as loud as she was able. The scream was heard, and help came running. Her enemy, when he realized his mistake, tried to kill her with a crossbow. She was on the floor when he fired, and had just started to stand. Her timing was more than lucky; the crossbow bolts hit her in the hip and thigh, but she was alive. She would limp for the rest of her life, but she would have a life.

But it was never her life she thought about. Her enemy was more of an enemy to her emotions, and her pride. She was helpless to stop him, to protect herself, and she knew it. Deep down inside, she knew it. But on the surface… perhaps even on the surface she was aware of her helplessness, but she ignored it. Her only choice to stay alive was to flee, to run far away and never return. But she would not. Her subconscious knowledge of her own helplessness ate at her heart. Every time she thought of her enemy’s leering face, the thought that she would have to flee was like the taste of bitter ashes.

She did run, eventually. A fox for whom she cared deeply was attacked several days after she had been shot. She didn’t know the particulars of the attack. All she knew was the fox had been carried in, his features slashed horribly. Only later did she learn that her enemy had been responsible. She made the conclusion that since he couldn’t get to her, he was attacking those she cared about. Who’s next? she had asked herself, my brother, maybe. I have to leave, not for myself, but for those I love.

So she had gone. For three weeks. After that, her old bitterness returned, and she came back, despite all the danger. Only then had she learned that she no longer had anything to worry about.
 
 

Her first reaction had been shock. Her enemy was well known; in fact, he was probably the most infamous of villains ever to stalk that place. His cleverness, deviousness and savagery had earned him a name that frightened even the strongest and bravest of beasts. To learn that he was dead was almost inconceivable to her.

Her next feeling had been relief. Her friends, her brother… they were all safe. So was she, come to think of it. She would never have to worry again. She would never have to sit up at night, listening for every sound, wondering if he was going to come and take her in her sleep and torture her to death. She would never again have to think of his savage, leering face and wonder when she was going to see it again. She knew, by some instinct, that if she ever saw the face again, it would be the end of her existence. But now, she was safe. Her feeling of relief, however, was incomplete. And short lived.

Soon another emotion took over. The rumors spoke of eerie, piteous yowls that had reverberated throughout the hall at the time of his death. Obviously, however he had died, it had been painful and drawn out. When she thought about that, how he must have died in pain and despair, she felt… sad? Could that heavy feeling of hollowness that weighed down on her soul be sorrow? Or even pity? He was her enemy, and that was that. But… she didn’t hate him. She was furious that he had her caught so helplessly, that she had no power to save her own life. She knew that once she was caught, he would take his time, drawing out her fear, reveling in it, tormenting her body until she finally let life go to escape awful pain. But she didn’t hate him. She didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if she knew of any ‘traumatic past’ or anything like that. She knew nothing about him except that he was hunting her down. Her mind told her that she should hate, that she should be pleased with his pain, but her heart couldn’t comply.

So sorrow ate at her. But that wasn’t all. It took her a long time to identify and classify another emptiness that she had inside her. But when she realized what it was, she understood perfectly.

She had no resolution. She had been abused, she had spent hours and days with a little monster called ‘fear’ eating away inside her. Her enemy had given her nothing but misery until she had fled. Turned and fled like a coward. Like the helpless, pathetic coward she was. Her brother had told her that she was only doing what was smart, and perhaps he had been right, but she just felt awful about running.

And then she had returned. Her pride demanded that she go back to face him, even if it meant death, for she had to.  She couldn’t just hide and hope that her problems would fade into distant memory, for that would never happen. Her journey here from her hiding place had been filled with despair.  The cold wind and rain that had accompanied her the whole time was like nature screaming at her to not be a fool, to turn back at once! But she couldn’t. She had entered this place convinced that she would die, but ready to die, if only it meant and end to the constant rush of black emotion she felt.

But her enemy was dead. There would be no resolution. Never. That concept was like a scream in her mind that echoed back and forth ceaselessly through her skull. Never.  She would forever have a corner of her heart empty. Nature abhors a vacuum, and she  felt as though her heart would collapse about that emptiness and be swallowed up by it.

She shook her head with a grimace. Her thoughts came back to the world around her. She noticed the drink in front of her for the first time, and realized that she hadn’t paid for it. With a sigh, she took a coin out of her pocket and laid it on the bartop. The bartender came to collect it and gave her a look which was… inscrutable.

She swallowed her drink down quickly, not noticing the flavor. She fought to keep her mind off her feelings. She knew that, in time, the emotions would fade, even if they never vanished entirely. But now they were a rush like a flash flood, that strained to drag her down and carry her away. She fought as she made her way slowly back to her dormitory room and collapsed on her bed. Her brother was already asleep, quiet snores barely discernable above her own shuffling movements. Without bothering to even change into nightclothes, she fell asleep. She slept long and peacefully, without dreams, for she was exhausted. She hoped that tomorrow, whatever came, would bring peace.