#supressing

, 

One giant pile of moss, some scattered leaves and flowers, and a handful of mold later, it was almost decent.

The moss had really been the worst part. Feeling around and having to pick up as much as he could before tossing it outside in a pile had been a pain, even if he was wearing gloves. On the plus side, if he ever found a river, he had something to soak up water with. Even if it was grossly unsanitary.

Seeing that Flapjack still hadn’t woken up, he’d gone out and found some minorly soft things to dump in the cave, considering how sore he was from sleeping on the hard ground. He’d also found some berries, which might be poisonous, so there’s some maybe-food. He definitely doesn’t have the right materials to hunt anything.

The Owl House, he knows, is a good distance away from the rest of civilization on foot. However, it’s not ridiculously far, and even with Hunter wandering around aimlessly, picking different directions, and overall being completely lost, Bonesborough can’t be that far away.

Especially after two days traveling. He knows the woods stretches in some places and squishes in others. He probably just found himself in one of the long stretches.

So, as much as he desperately wanted to never be bothered again, he kind of needed supplies. Of which Bonesborough had in abundance. And no one in the immediate area who knew what he was. Er, had been.

Luckily for him, Flapjack chose this time to wake up. Blearily blinking open his eye as Hunter shifted around the leaves and weirdly dry moss he’d found.

“You up for an expedition?” Hunter asked, and Flapjack perked up instantly.

Travel? He repeated, getting up and shaking himself off. 

“To Bonesborough,” Hunter nodded, getting up and cracking his sore back. “We kind of–well, I need food.” He corrected. “And clean water.”

And clothes. Flapjack added-in.

“See? I need a whole heap of things.” Hunter said, flexing his hands and moving to the entrance of their little cave. “C’mon, let’s see if we can find where it is.”

Fly! Flapjack said, darting out right by Hunter’s head and causing him to startle and almost trip on his exit. Fly there!

Without even waiting to see if Hunter was ready, he promptly turned into a staff. Hunter yelped and hastily reached forward to grab it, not wanting Flapjack to clatter on the ground like a worn stick.

“Oh, yeah.” Hunter said, looking over the staff in his hands. “I forgot you could do that.”

Flapjack couldn’t speak when in staff-form, but he still got the impression he was being judged. Immensely.

For not the first time, he was grateful of his long-night practices on his artificial staff as he rose into the air. After being fitted with that thing from a young age, mostly to hide the fact he was powerless, his main two focuses had been practicing magic and flight. He couldn’t over-rely on it, he’d be fresh meat if he was ever without it, but it was always good to be at his best no matter what he had on him.

Once high in the air, far above the trees, it wasn’t hard to see where Bonesborough was. A part of him wanted to look back and see if he could spot the Owl House from this distance, but he was not going to open that can of worms. If he was lucky, all would be silent. If he was unlucky, he’d still see Coven scouts being thrown around haphazardly by the bird tube. And his luck hadn’t been particularly good recently.

He went back to flying through the trees once he’d pinpointed where Bonesborough was, which was actually probably, what, a fifteen or twenty minute walk from his hideout? His thoughts were correct, it was really close by.

Course, flying to Bonesborough and actually being at Bonesborough were two entirely different things, on a physical and emotional level. He was all too aware of this when he came to the edge of the trees and hastily jerked Flapjack to a stop, greeted by the sights of familiar houses and people.

Not a lot of people, it was still dawn, after all, but enough. Probably vendors setting up shop for the day, or people trying to get a head start on the sales or jobs they had. Demons and witches wandered about as though it were any other day, and to them, it probably was. Hunter dismounted his staff and held it close.

He didn’t have anything to cover his face with. Just his shirt and under armor he’d neglected to take off last night. And if he pulled his shirt up to cover the lower half of his face, he’d just look suspicious. It’s not like anyone outside the Coven (save for a notable few people) actually knew that his face went hand-in-hand with the Golden Guard. It’d be fine.

Flapjack shifted out his staff-state, and Hunter barely reacted when he landed on his shoulder, watching the people move about with him. He wondered if he was anxious about people, too, having lived in the woods for however-many-years.

“It’ll be fine.” He said to Flapjack, though he knew it wasn’t just to him. Flapjack chirped, nodding in agreement.

They stood still for a few moments longer, watching the people pass by.

Then, Hunter took the first step forward.

The town was blissfully quiet, before it’d be up and everywhere in the afternoon. He kept his arms crossed across his chest and head down, hurrying through as fast he could without running. He didn’t dare look at anyone, and prayed they weren’t looking at him. Realistically, he knew nobody would bat an eye if he walked normally, but he was all too aware of the fact he was still wearing suspicious Coven-similar attire and needed something better.

He got his answer to his pleadings when Flapjack lightly bit the edge of his ear and tugged.

“Hey,” He muttered, jerking his head around. “You can just say things, you–”

He’d found the edge of the marketplace. And, to his luck, there was a shop selling an array of clothes. Shoddy, probably stolen clothes with some shit stitching (as Darius would say) and a few holes, but clothes nonetheless. The good stuff was much deeper in the market, and also harder to steal from.

Slight problem. The witch manning the station was, well, right there. He was still setting out a few shirts, but there’s no way he wouldn’t notice Hunter yoinking something. And he really wasn’t hoping to be arrested today. Then his face might be plastered everywhere.

“You got a plan?” He asked Flapjack.

One. Flapjack nodded, shifting his little body and spreading his wings. Be fast.

With that, he leapt off his shoulder and flew off towards the vendor. Hunter could only cautiously glance around and tail after at a distant, loose pace.

Flapjack flew in circles over the stand for a moment, the witch none the wiser. Then, without any prior waring, tucked his wings in and dive bombed.

He plunked right off the witch’s head, causing him to yelp and flail about, dizzy from having a solid wooden object smack into him. Flapjack popped right off and onto the table, grabbing one of the newly laid-out shirts in his talons. He waited until the witch turned to him with a glare, hand curling into a fist, and then he was off, taking the shirt with him.

“Wh–hey!” The witch yelled, darting around their tables. “Give that back!”

Well, that was certainly a plan.

Hunter rushed the stand, eyes darting around as he grabbed everything closest to him. Shirts, pants, a pair of socks, some random strips of cloth that probably weren’t supposed to be set out yet, another shirt–

He figured that was enough, bundling it all up into his arms and sparing a quick look up, finding Flapjack was flying above the witch’s head with the shirt, just out of reach as he jumped up to try and get it back. Hunter made a quick, sharp whistling sound and turned to dash off between the other stands being set up.

He didn’t look back, but he heard more indignant yelling as he slipped between the shops, not daring to see which ones were staring at him, until there was a red blur by his head, free of the stolen shirt.

“Think you can do that a few more times?” Hunter asked breathlessly.

Flapjack only gave him a cheerful little whistle, and a spin in the air. That was as much of a yes as he was ever going to get.

 ,

 By noon, Hunter was in a ratty old green shirt, some vaguely too-big pants, incredibly thick gloves, a gray bandana, and a dark brown cloak. The cloak was, by far, the nicest thing he was wearing.

He’d also snatched up a messenger bag, though this one had been from a shopper. It’d been mostly empty, save for some personal items. Most of it was useless, like makeup and a particularly snappy wallet that wouldn’t let him grab anything. But the candy bar was a plus.

The marketplace was moving more, now, but Hunter felt a little better than he did that morning with a hood over his head and a bandana covering the lower half of his face. He wasn’t even the shadiest person there, what with plenty others wandering around in cloaks with their heads down. From experience, he knew most of them weren’t wild witches, and instead were either hermits or some other kind of petty criminal.

He never did think he’d be on the same side as them, rather than the opposite.

Water was the first priority, but since nobody sold water for some reason, the closest he could find was some bottles of juice and drinks made of pure sugar. He almost took a can of beer as a joke, because it’s not like anyone was going to stop him. Except Flapjack did, indeed, stop him. He pulled at his cowlick until he grudgingly put it back.

Food was a much easier endeavor. Dozens of stands sold it, and Flapjack was great at pissing them off enough to not pay attention when Hunter snagged an apple in passing and shoved it in his bag. As the sun passed its peak, he thought he was getting good at it. And wasn’t that weird, being proud of becoming a successful thief.

At one store, which was selling all kinds of breaded goods, Hunter gave Flapjack a quick whistle to signal he wanted one. Most of the shop owners were growing wise to the bird that caused them trouble, so he’d taken to hiding Flapjack in his hood until it was go-time. This didn’t stop him, and the cardinal shot out and into the air at his command.

He lingered back for a moment as Flapjack snatched up a pastry and made off with it, causing the vendor to leap out and start shouting curses, drawing the fellow shoppers ire elsewhere.

Hunter casually strolled up to the shop, glanced around, and started grabbing loaves of bread and shoving them into his bag. He wasn’t particularly picky, just a handful or a few would do, so long he didn’t need to resort to thievery within the week again.

And then there was a hand appearing next to him.

Hunter jumped, jerking back and raising an arm defensively. A kid, probably not even ten, startled as well, staring back at him with wide eyes.

They were a grimy thing, with tanned skin that might have been more dirt than anything with hair too long hanging into their eyes that looked like it’d been hacked at with a weedwhacker. One of their eyes had a healing bruise around it, and their nose looked crooked, like a break that healed improperly.

“It’s not all yours,” The kid grumbled after a second, turning and going right back to grabbing handfuls of bread.

“Don’t sneak up on me.” Hunter grumbled, warily watching as he pushed another loaf into his bag. “Why are you–”

“Oi!”

Hunter jerked his head up, as did the kid. The shop owner had looked away from Flapjack for just a moment, and noticed the two thieves at her shop.

Hunter shut his bag with a click and bolted.

The kid did the same, dropping the bagel they were trying to nab and racing off in a similar direction. Hunter weaved through the crowd, hoping Flapjack had at least noticed and was following after.

He slipped in through two different shops, ducking behind crates filled with extra supplies. He crouched behind them, pulling his bandana up more when it started to slip off his nose, breathing a little heavily.

He saw the kid race past, looking around for a moment before drawing a spell circle in the air and turning translucent. They looked down at themself, seemed rather annoyed at that fact, and looked around in wild desperation.

He could hear the shouting of the shopkeeper approaching. He still didn’t know where Flapjack was.

So, he whistled.

It had been for Flapjack, really. A soft noise to hopefully draw his attention, and in all the clamor, a whistle wouldn’t strike a lot of attention.

Instead, it got noticed by the kid, because they had unfortunately been close by, and immediately spotted him hiding behind the crates. There was a moment of hesitation, and then they ran towards him.

“What are you–”

“Shh!” The kid hissed when they reached him, slapping a hand over where they thought his mouth was and making him wish he could bite it.

They crouched down behind a crate, and Hunter caught sight of the furious vendor, so he followed suit, pulling his cloak tightly around him.

Some muttered curses, a shout, and more exclamations of thieves. Hunter thought she was right stupid, because now nobody was watching her shop, and someone else was definitely stealing from it.

He and the kid waited for a moment, holding their breaths. They watched as the witch stormed by, shouting fading as they were swallowed up by the steadily growing crowd. He guessed situations like this had to be common.

Cheep!

Hunter nearly leapt out of his skin, jumping up and his head colliding with one of the wooden crates. The kid jumped as well, though they just let out an undignified squeak.

“Flapjack!” Hunter hissed quietly, glaring at the bird perched on the box next to him. “Are you trying to give me a concussion?” He scolded, rubbing the back of his head.

“That’s your palisman?” The kid squinted. “I thought he was just a random bird.”

“As far as you’re concerned, he is.” Hunter said gruffly, raising a hand and letting Flapjack hop onto it, climbing back up to his shoulder. “What the hell was that?” He demanded once his palisman was situated. “You could have led her to both of us!”

“Then I have half a chance she doesn’t follow me!” The kid hissed back, still halfway translucent. “You shouldn’t have made any noise.”

“I shouldn’t have–you were stealing from my scheme!” Hunter shot back. 

“Then don’t make it so easy to steal.” The kid sniffed, and Hunter debated punching them as they stood upright, brushing themself off, as though they weren’t still covered in muck.

“Are you–I’m not the one who can’t even perform a simple invisibility spell!” He bit out.

The kid glowered at him with something fierce, which was impressive for how tiny they were, hands balled into fists. Seriously, he’d almost think they were eight from the size alone. Hunter just stood up, ignoring Flapjack’s worried warbles as he tucked his bag closer to himself.

“I’d like to see you do better.” The kid huffed, crossing their arms and turning away.

“I can, actually.” Hunter said snottily, and the kid looked over their shoulder and stuck their tongue out at him. He scoffed, shaking his head as the kid slipped out between the stands, glancing around. 

The kid flipped him off over their shoulder, and then they were off. Hunter returned the gesture, even if they couldn’t see it anymore.

Mean. Flapjack chirped, and Hunter nodded as he looked around before darting back into the marketplace as well.

“I know, that kid was a brat.” Hunter muttered.

Mean! Flapjack scolded, pulling at his ear.

“Me?” Hunter demanded, getting some weird looks before pulling his hood down and hurrying along. “That kid could’ve gotten us caught!” Hunter hissed, far more quietly.

Rude. Flapjack just said, and Hunter rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, we’ve gotten enough for today.” Hunter muttered, one hand resting over the bag as he weaved through the crowds. “It’s getting stuffy here, anyway.”

Flapjack gave him a reprimanding look, but aside from that, said nothing more. He was grateful for the silence, even as the talk of all the strangers around him filled his ears.

,

 “Ah, shit.” Hunter frowned. “We should’ve gotten blankets.”

Essentials. Flapjack tried to reassure, standing off to the side as Hunter rifled through their bag. Get more tomorrow.

“They’ll probably start to recognize our tricks eventually.” Hunter warned, sitting back against the tree in his little cave and pulling his bandana down as he took out a stolen bagel. “We need to come up with other plans.” He said, frowning as he took a bite. “Or maybe paint you green.”

Flapjack gave a disdainful snort at that, and Hunter grinned as he fished out one of the bottles of juice.

“It’s an option.” He said evenly, popping off the cap and grumbling when he had to pick off the protective seal. “Could probably steal some pillows or something if we’re lucky,” He added, then frowned, slowly peeling off the seal. “And some weapons. We should get those, too.”

Flapjack perked up at that, hopping along and onto his outstretched foot. He set aside the juice for a moment to break off a crumb and hand it over. Flapjack didn’t need food, but they’d gotten so much today that Hunter didn’t mind indulging him.

“Some knives, probably.” He said as Flapjack politely took the piece from his hand. “Sharp objects in general. Maybe a bat or two. We’ll need to have them in case we get caught.”

Flapjack seemed unhappy about this, but didn’t protest as he pecked at his morsel of food. Hunter took that as a victory in his own right and shoved the last of the bagel in his mouth, grabbing the juice to wash it down. Titan, he was starving, he could probably eat a whole other loaf.

But he didn’t, because the less he had to steal, the better, so he just took out an orange and ate a bit of that. And promptly realized he hadn’t gotten himself any towels, either. Damnit.

It was going to be a long time till the Day of Unity blew over, he could feel it.

And boring. Very, very boring.

“How averse are you to stealing from a library?” He asked aloud, and Flapjack swallowed down the last of his bagel before looking up at him.

Rude, Flapjack said without falter. Disgraceful.

“Well, what else do I have?” Hunter scoffed. “I left my scroll back at the castle, so I’m sure as hell never getting that back.”

He’s not sure if he feels bad about that or not. Sure, he’s mad he lost his scroll, but he also knows that it was a gift from Darius. And he’s still not sure what he thinks of him, now that he wasn’t a sobbing mess on the forest ground.

Darius surely had to have at least suspected, right? Being the apprentice to the old Golden Guard had to give some kind of insight. And even if he didn’t, he sure as hell wasn’t going to let Hunter run free if he ever found him. No matter what Darius knew, he most certainly wasn’t Hunter’s ally anymore. If he had been at all.

He pressed the back of his gloved hand to his face to stave off the tears. He had cried more than enough, he didn’t have time for it anymore. He needed to move along. Change. Adapt. He could do that. He was trained for it, and he was going to throw that training back in Belos’s face by surviving despite everything. Eat shit, old man.

He felt bad about that thought the moment he had it, and then he felt pissed that he was feeling bad in the first place, so he decided to cap that whole thing right there. Another time. Preferably on the far side of ‘never’ and ‘not in a million years.’

“We’ll worry about it tomorrow. Essentials, first. Staving off boredom later.” Hunter waved his hand, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Someday we’ll probably have to head out during the night instead of the day. The Night Market has just about everything.”

Careful, Flapjack warned, warbling. Dangerous.

“I know that,” Hunter huffed, tossing the orange peel aside. He’d deal with it later. “We should still go, eventually.” He slumped down against the tree. “Once we have most of this sorted out. Then we go.”

Safe, Flapjack said, flying up and onto his lap. Stay safe.

“This is as safe as we’re ever gonna be, bud.” Hunter said, stroking a finger down his head.

Flapjack seemed doubtful, looking up at him with a sad, worried eye. But he didn’t add anything else, settling down and letting his petting lull him to rest.

Hunter stayed staring at the entrance of their hideout for a long time afterwards, thoughts whirling or fading to nothing. And he stared for as long as he needed, until the light started to fade, and his eyelids grew heavy.