But when he begins to tremble and and speaks those words, her eyes widen in shock and anger. There’s only one group in Altelia that has such evil intentions that they would harm such an old man like this! Make an innocent so afraid! She rushes forward, stopping close to the old man. At this point she would usually reach out to touch his arm but… some intuition tells her it would be better to leave him alone.

   Holding a fragile hand out, the figure pitifully pleaded, “Noo....p-pl-please..d-don’t-” He backs away further as his voice gives out.

   In a quiet voice he spoke once more before turning away, “It....it’s not safe here...they...are everywhere....I shouldn’t say anymore...you’lluu...you’ll be in danger...”

   Despite only the dark figure of his cloak in view, the trembling of the figure was prominent. “You...have been kind,...and I...I am...perhaps past my time...”

   A small object covered in cloth drops to the ground as the figure disperses into the darkness. The figure’s fading voice relays once last message: “This...will protect you....from them.”

Oh… but what if he didn’t have a wife? What was he supposed to do then? Candy made her feel better, sometimes… maybe she could share some of hers? He didn’t want her to come closer, she ought…

     Sputtering out a rough warning, “M-miss, th....there are dangerous peop---beings...it would be better for....y-you to take more care. Being seen...with a per--stain as myself....”

     Shakily clutching the cloth of his hood, he continued, “You sho-uuld return...ahh-” The figure struggles to hold back coughing.

“I-If you’re sick… y-you don’t have to stop!” She gave a nod, trying to act big and authoritative about it. Her attempts almost made it seem like she had decided she was the more mature one there, telling the cloaked man to eat his veggies or such… of course, this fell flat against her immature appearance and ways of speech. “You have my direct permission and no one can tell you otherwise!”

She eyed his bandages with worry… oh, she couldn’t do anything about it. Mama had never taught her how to make any real potions and the brews she had learned on her own… er…

   The figure stood stood in place as the other ventured closer. Shaking his head carefully, the figure spoke once more.

She tilts her head to look at the sky. The moon falls beneath a passing dark grey cloud and all is cast in shadow. It is then that she notices him. An old man, hooded, seemingly… ill, in some way. Or injured. She can only see a long beard as any identifying feature.

He begins to cough. And oh, Felicity feels sympathy. She’s coughed like that before many times in her own illness. She knows what it’s like to be ill and wandering the streets at night, in search of something. With caution, but sincere sympathy, she approaches.

   The figure wheezed as he beat his chest slowly with his fist. Roughly pushing out a response, “Pl-lease excu...se me...M-miss..Feli-licity...there is...no pla...ace for...me to...” Harsh coughing interrupts his speech.

   Between breathes for air and fits of coughing, the figure continued, “to...stay..”

   Sensing the tone in her last words, the figure began visibly trembling. “If...I stay sile...nt....the-they...pr-pr-pr-prom...ised...” he stops, dropping his remaining words and head.

No, she didn’t like the stranger at all. She did her best to stay hidden, a task not aided by her hair and eyes, and considered just heading back to the orphanage. His breathing was so heavy and… was he okay? The small girl found herself conflicted, starting to take a small retreating step and instead found herself jumping in response to his coughing. Finally, after a long silence, she spoke up, still hugging what she had attempted to hide behind.

   Taking a moment to breath, the coughing ceases.

   With a clear of his throat, “I...do...apol..ogize...” Beginning another coughing fit, the figure’s voice stops. 

   “T-this sick...ness....makes it dif-f-f----ficult....to st-st-op...” his words stammer as he holds in another cough.