#young silver

When the stream of children began to thin, Silver helpfully stepped forward, gently tugging Abelle's hand to signal that they were going to move. But Abelle resisted, feet planted as if they'd been rooted there, nearly causing the hedgehog to rock backwards. He looked back at her, confused. She didn't return his look, her head turned to look back at the fireplace and the story-teller still sitting on her stool.

"What's wrong?" Silver whispered, closing the gap between them and casting fleeting glances at the kids still shuffling out of the tent.

"Nothing, I just..." Her ear twitched. "I thought I heard her say something.."

Silver's ears tried to straighten and turn, but the hood covering his long, grey quills inhibited their movement. Exasperation shivered down his spine and his ears flicked in irritation against the material that kept them from doing their job.

Cocking his head, he followed her gaze to the old Mobian stoking the fire with a stick. She didn't seem to care about them, not even giving the last disappearing child a second glance.

He sighed, "C'mon Abelle she's not-"

"Oh splendid. You heard me."

Silver's spine straightened as if a bolt had just went through it. The same, smooth voice from earlier was speaking to them, barely more than a whisper.

Silver turned towards her, his eyes wide and his heart drumming. He watched as she slowly stood from her seat and took careful, nearly silent steps towards them.

Her arms were tucked inside her layers of shawls and her posture was relaxed. There was no hint of malice or anger in her face, yet Silver couldn't help but feel like he'd done something wrong. Adults rarely decided to acknowledge him, let alone took the initiative to talk to him. And if they did, it was usually with stiff discomfort.

She bridged the space between them with such grace it almost seemed like she was floating.

"Yeah, I heard you," Abelle answered, her eyes darting up and down the story-teller's frame excitedly.

The story-teller paused. Silver could have reached out and touched her. She towered over him and, despite the softness in her eyes, Silver couldn't stop the flood of dread that pushed words from his mouth in a panicked rush.

"Isthisaboutmeleavingearlier?I'msosorryIdidn'tmeantodisturbyouitwasanaccidentandithappenedsofastI-"

"Hush, child." Her voice was so calming and gentle, like salve on a smarting wound, and he instantly found himself silenced.

She bent down to their level, taking in the small cat and cloaked hedgehog in front of her. She reached forward, resting her hand on his shoulder. He couldn't move.

"It's all right. Neither of you are in any trouble."

Her hand pulled away and Silver visibly sighed in relief, he noticed his hand trembling in Abelle's grip.

"Why did you want us to wait?" Abelle's voice piped up, nothing but curiosity in her tone.

"I simply wished to speak with you," the story-teller told them, "I remember you from the other times I've visited this city. You two never miss a show."

Silver smiled, but only Abelle's grin was truly visible as it shone up at the old possum.

"You really remember us?" She asked excitedly.

The story-teller nodded, "As a keeper of the tales and legends of old, I am required to have a good memory. And it is hard to forget such eager listeners."

"It's hard not to listen to such great stories," Silver said, his nervousness slowly edging away.

"And I am so very pleased that you both enjoy them so much! But..." The story-teller's soft eyes shifted between the two younglings curiously. "Why did you sit so far back today? You are both small enough, you could have easily taken seats closer to the fire. At least where you'd be able to see more of my tricks and illustrations."

"Oh! Well, you see..." Abelle glanced at Silver before turning back towards the storyteller, bringing a small paw up to her face, "It's gotten harder for me to see. So I thought it'd be okay to sit by ourselves for once and just listen."

Sympathy deepened the possum's already soft exterior.

"I am so sorry to hear that. Is there anything that can be done? About your sight?"

Abelle's smile saddened, "I don't think so. But it's alright! As long as I have my friend with me," she patted his hand, "I'll be okay!"

"Yes. Your friend is a good one. I can tell."

The story-teller's eyes shifted to him and he was somehow trapped between the swelling feeling of pride and the unsettling nervousness from before.

"Now, correct me if I'm wrong little one, but I don't recall having ever seen you, before this evening, without your cloak on."

Silver dipped his head, tugging the corner of his hood.

"Um, yeah. The others don't like how I look, so I just wear it to keep them from noticing," he explained.

The story-teller nodded. "I understand. But all the same-" She reached forward, her wrinkled knuckles brushing the edge of the hood, making him flinch away- "I don't want you to feel like you have to hide in here. Tonight was the first time I think I've ever seen your whole face and, to be quite honest, it saddens me." She waved at the hood obscuring his features. "Perhaps, would you take it off again? So I might see you more clearly?"

Silver paused, unsure.

He glanced at Abelle, who nodded encouragingly. So, sucking in a breath, he let go of her hand and reached up to pull the hood off of his head.

Instantly his quills took on their rebellious style, and his ears happily stood up straight, eager to turn and twist freely. Now, with the hood out of the way, he could better see the story-teller and his surrounding area and his peripheral vision was satisfied by the familiar brick and cloth walls.

A soft grin wrinkled the story-teller's face, a sparkle brightening her aged eyes.

"Ah, there you are. I didn't believe it at first when I saw you. I hardly see any hedgehogs anymore. And I can't recall the last time I've seen one your age. How old are you, little one?"

Silver shifted on his feet. "Uh, I'm not sure..."

"I'm four!" Abelle jumped into the conversation, much to Silver's relief, "Silver's probably four too. Or maybe five."

"I see," the old possum whispered, nodding. "And what of your parents? Can you not ask them?"

Silver's ears drooped, his gaze falling to the floor. Once again Silver found himself grateful when Abelle answered for him.

"He doesn't have parents... They left him alone when he was a baby."

"Oh- I do apologize. I didn't mean to pry."

Something inside Silver didn't quite believe her...

He shook his head.

"It's okay," he muttered, looking back up at her kind face, "It's not like I knew them or anything."

The story-teller hummed in thought. She shook herself and smiled down at them.

"Well, let us not dwell on the sorrows of the past. I would like for us to become friends, since I will be here for an unforeseen length of time."

Silver was shocked by the statement, while Abelle was ecstatic.

"Really?!"

The story-teller laughed in amusement.

"But of course! I've become quite fond of seeing you both come to my shows and you strike me as agreeable younglings. Not like some of the brutes who attend my shows and act as though the other children are lesser than them." She scowled and Silver felt himself brighten up. "But let us not talk about such unsavory people. They have no power here and they know that. As long as they are in my presence they will behave themselves."

That last comment felt aimed at Silver and the hoglet couldn't help beaming up at her in admiration.

"Now, let us introduce ourselves properly. Your feline friend here has mentioned your name but I would like to hear it from you as though we have just met."

"Oh-! Uh." Silver glanced at Abelle, but the cat was too busy eagerly looking at the story-teller to notice. He looked up at the possum hovering over him. "My name is Silver."

"Silver. What a handsome name," she crooned and Abelle giggled.

The possum turned to the giddy feline, "And you, my dear?"

"My name's Abelle!" she answered, energy coming off of her in waves.

"Abelle. A fitting name for such a lively young lady."

Abelle giggled again and Silver's smile broadened.

The possum put her hand to her chest.

"And my name is Sivannah. No need for any 'ma'am's and 'miss's. If we're to be friends, there ought be no need for formality. Alright?"

"Alright!" Abelle agreed enthusiastically.

Sivannah smiled. With a welcoming wave of her arm she gestured towards the flickering fire behind her. "If you'd agree, I would like for you to stay and talk with me for a while longer. I can fetch some food from the tavern and you both can tell me more about yourselves."

Silver's jaw almost dropped in disbelief. Free food? His heart leapt at the thought and he opened his mouth to quickly agree when he was interrupted by a light tug from Abelle's hand as well as her voice declining the offer.

"Actually, I need to get back soon. Mom doesn't like it when I'm out alone for long." Her ears drooped, betraying her own disappointment, before she looked up at Sivannah hopefully.

"But, maybe some other time.?"

Sivannah nodded. "Of course, I understand completely. And you'll need your courageous young charge to lead you home safely I imagine?"

A smile tugged at Silver's muzzle, his chest swelling.

Abelle laughed, playfully slugging him in the shoulder and popping the balloon of pride in his heart.

"Not if he leads like he did on the way here."

"Hey!" He protested, "You were in just as much a hurry as me!"

A weight he didn't realize was there lifted from his shoulders making him suddenly three times lighter.

Abelle waved a hand dismissively, "Psh, whatever."

"Perhaps ask your mother if you can stay after my next show. If you come that is," Sivannah hinted.

"Of course we'll come!" Abelle said, "And I'll definitely make sure to check with Mom."

"Good, I will be looking forward to it." Her eyes locked with Silver's. "And don't be afraid to stop by between shows if you would like."

Silver grinned. "Okay. Thank you."

"It's my pleasure young one," she nodded towards the door, "Now, you best leave if you're not to worry Abelle's mother."

"Oh-! Right." Silver turned around, gently tugging for Abelle to follow. He waved once to the elderly possum, "Goodbye!"

Abelle waved as well, "Bye!"

Sivannah returned the gesture, "Farewell Silver, Abelle. I hope to see you again soon."

Silver felt dizzy with excitement and disbelief as both he and Abelle traipsed down the sidewalk.

"Did that really just happen?!" Abelle chattered excitedly, picking up her pace so she could look Silver in the eye, "This has to be a dream, right? The story-teller did not just ask us to be friends with her!"

She halted in her tracks, effectively stopping a dazed Silver, and held out her arm.

"Here, pinch me. Just to make sure I'm not dreaming!"

Silver laughed. "Abelle, if you're dreaming I wouldn't be here!"

"Don't be so sure, you could just be a figment of my imagination."

Silver rolled his eyes, but the broad smile on his face said that it was all in good humor as he reached forward and pinched the skin of her thin arm.

She jumped back with a yelp, rubbing the accosted area before looking back at Silver with her bright smile.

"We're not dreaming! Silver- we're not dreaming!"

Silver chuckled, "I could've told you that."

She stuck her tongue out at him, and he bared his fangs playfully in return.

They both erupted into laughter. Their hearts lighter than air as they chatted and giggled about the day's events.

Eventually they came to Abelle's home, a lopsided apartment building squished between two, squat shops. The steps leading up to the first door were cracked and crooked, sickly weeds poking up between the crevices.

"We're here," Silver announced, neither cheerfully nor with upset.

Abelle nodded as Silver dutifully guided her to the steps and she put one hand out to grasp the bent railing.

"I guess that's all for now," Abelle said, misty eyes locking on the stained door leading into the complex.

"Should I come get you next time?" He asked.

She laughed, turning to face him, "If you wake up in time."

He smiled.

Silence fell between them.

"I should get inside," Abelle finally said, pulling away and taking a backwards step up the stairs, "Dad is away today, and Momma would like to spend time with me before he comes back." 

Silver nodded, "Okay. I guess I'll see you later then."

He turned to walk away when her voice called after him, halting his steps.

"Are you going to be okay?"

He craned his head to look back at her. Her misty eyes were worried, flicking on and around him as if she were trying hard to focus on where he was.

He smiled, grateful she couldn't see how pathetic and sad it must have looked.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." His voice was relaxed, sincere. He waved dismissively, "I might go scavenging at the dump, or head to the fort. Either way, I'll be fine. Go enjoy your time with your mom."

Abelle looked hesitant, "You sure?"

"'Course I'm sure! Go on now."

Reluctantly she complied, and he watched the tension leave her face as she pulled open the door, excitement and happiness carving a smile into her muzzle. It was only a second later before she disappeared inside and Silver turned away from his friend's home.

He kicked a piece of gravel, thoughtfully watching it bounce across the cement and land somewhere off to the side.

He knew why she'd asked. And he didn't want to honestly answer. She would have once again insisted that he meet her mom, and perhaps Abelle was right. Perhaps her mother wouldn't care about his pale fur and freakish episodes. Perhaps she'd be happy to let him be friends with Abelle, and he could continue learning how to be her future 'official' guide. But Silver knew that even though her mother might be kind-hearted to him, her father would not.

Males were not as welcoming, or tender, as females. And Silver had the dreadful feeling that if Abelle's father ever found out about his daughter hanging around with a freak like him... Well... Being forbidden to see his only friend in the entire world would be far more painful then a couple lonely days in his den.

So, he'd lied. It made his heart ache to do it, but he had to convince Abelle that he wouldn't be pathetically huddled in his den all alone.

But the truth of it was that he needed to go home anyway, because he'd had an episode. It hadn't been severe enough to do anything particularly harmful, thank goodness, but it had come. Unprovoked and without any reason besides getting a little excited over a story. Which was more worrisome than if it had happened in a fight. Sure, he understood if he'd felt stressed or anxious, sometimes an episode would flare up when he was being chased by the other kids. But just sitting there? Doing nothing?

A sinking feeling curdled his stomach, making him feel more sick than his guilt had.

Could this mean... It was getting worse..?

Or, maybe him trying to control it yesterday had made it suddenly stronger.

He shook his head, just then realizing that he hadn't put his hood back up since leaving the story-teller's tent. His gaze darted up at a Mobian across the street and he cowered away at seeing her hazel eyes peering at him suspiciously. He quickly pulled his hood up over his head, obscuring his face and covering his unnaturally light quills. How many people had been staring at him without him noticing? How many of those hateful, suspicious glares had followed him while he walked in close proximity to a 'normal' young cat?

He shivered, soft quills pushing against the fabric of his hood.

Grateful for the constant grasp of shadows, he ducked into a branching alley, hoping no one would waste a second thought on a scrappy boy in the streets. He chewed his lower lip as he hurried back. A low buzzing thrummed in his head and his hands tightened on the hood, kneading the fabric between his fingers.

He kept himself small and inconspicuous, darting between shadows in a hurry to get back to his den. Finally, he arrived at the thin alley. 12 steps in, duck down, pull aside the tarp.

The safety of his shelter welcomed him with a warm embrace, soothing the tightness in his chest and smoothing his quills. The gentle glow of firelight flickered happily and Silver exhaled, relaxing.

With a tug the hood was dragged off his body and the wraps on his hands were off just as quickly, tossed next to the mirror for later use. Not even bothering to check the fire he whirled around, ready to collapse into his makeshift bed only to stop and groan when he saw that same bed still strewn about the room.

Groaning and mumbling to himself, he collected all the papers, blankets, and rags and dumped them into a pile. With that taken care of, he collapsed into the soft pile, the papers wrinkling and crackling as he nuzzled into them.

The buzzing in his body receded to a low hum in the back of his mind, though it was still louder than normal. He pulled up his hands to be better viewed by his inquisitive gaze. The markings never stopped glowing, so that didn't bother him. That was actually why he was forced to keep them wrapped all the time.

He opened and closed them, studying their movements with a mixture of displeasure and fascination. The cyan light from the circular marks cast an eerie glow on the soft skin and silvery fur of his paw-like hands, battling against the natural yellow light that lit his den.

With a sigh he flipped onto his back, holding one hand overhead, staring into the gently pulsing mark.

Well, I hope you're happy.

He thought to it, waggling his fingers in the gentle glow that came from his curse.

Another day in quarantine. All because you just had to act up, and in the middle of a great story too!

The glow continued emotionlessly, dimming and brightening in an unheard rhythm that somehow felt right with the low hum in his mind.

"I don't care if it didn't matter to you," he muttered, "I haven't heard that legend before. She better tell that story again soon for your sake."

Empty threats, the humming glow knew it.

He stuck out his tongue.

"Well, it doesn't matter anyway. I met the story-teller herself, and I bet if I asked she would tell the story again next time."

His curse gave a small flicker, most likely from the jolt of excitement that came with the thought of the story-teller actually talking to him, but he translated it as arrogant disbelief for the sake of his conversation.

"You don't believe me? Fine then! See if I care. I'll prove it to you later when I show up and she talks with me."

Like a normal mobian.

A nonexistent snort, as if the prospect were bitterly amusing. Silver's ears flicked back.

"I will to talk to her! She's nice enough. But how would you know that, huh?"

No answer.

He frowned at his hand. Who did he think he was talking to?

Sighing, Silver flipped onto his stomach, folding his arms and using them to prop up his chin. His feet kicked behind him as he watched their shadows flicker on the wall in front of him. The warm firelight intermingling with a dim cyan.

Why did he always do that? Talk to his curse that way. He was weird enough as it was, he didn't need people to think he was insane.

Maybe it was because of the loneliness from being a scrappy orphan boy. Or maybe it was because that ever-present hum inside him was close to something else. Something that could communicate, or at least understand him. A something that he didn't know, and couldn't quite place. A something that left a gaping hole in his chest whenever he thought to much about it, an aching void where he felt it should be, but wasn't...

He waved a hand dismissively, smiling in amusement while he pushed down the hollow cavern that had begun to grow inside of him.

"Nah. I just don't have anyone else to talk to. That's all."

He chuckled, the buzz inside his mind flaring a moment before resettling.

He flipped onto his back again, already feeling better as he slouched into his pile of comfort. Eyeing the wall of trinkets and collectibles, he caught sight of a tin can, rusted and dented on one side.

His eyes brightened.

"Hey, how about we play with some of those glass balls!"

Marbles. His mind helpfully reminded half a second later.

He rolled his eyes, stood up and took the two steps to reach the can.

"Yeah yeah, whatever."

Busy with searching as he was, Lilia nearly collided with Tullius as he traveled through the halls.

“Lilia!” Tullius cried with a startled shriek, as he nearly bent over backwards to avoid getting hit by the wayward vampire.

“Oh, Tullius. What a pleasant surprise!”

“I wish I could say the same. What in Guivre’s name are you doing?”

“Why, searching for my darling little night owl, of course! I don’t enjoy just randomly calling out names of precious metals, you know?”

Knowing Lilia, Tullius wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. The vampire thrived off of chaotic energy more than blood.

“Are you saying you lost the human child?” Tullius asked with narrowed black eyes. All he could think about was a little human monster running around the castle, unsupervised, and causing all kinds of mayhem. Tullius heard that Silver was exceptionally mild-mannered for his age, but really, he was only human.

“I didn’t lose him, per se,” Lilia defended. “I turned away for a single moment and he took off.”

“And why did the child flee from you?” Besides the obvious reasons. “Did he finally tire of your antics.”

Lilia pouted at that, “You say that like there’s something wrong with my antics. I simply engage in harmless fun is all.”

Harmless fun is not what Tullius would call it.

“As for why he was running from me, I haven’t the faintest clue. I was simply serving him dinner.”

Ah. That explained it. Speaking of which, Tullius took not of the obsidian pot Lilia was carrying in his arms. Tullius could feel a malevolent aura oozing from the pot. True evil lurked in there.

“Suspicious indeed,” Tullius replied dryly.

Lilia sighed dramatically, “I simply cannot fathom what I’m doing wrong. Silver is such a picky eater! I’ve tried every recipe imaginable, but he barely touches any of it. My poor little heart cannot take this treatment.”

Tullius imagined that he would be a picky eater too if his meal could potentially come to life and eat him instead.

“I even made the dish exceptionally special today,” Lilia bemoaned, lifting the lid off of the pot and oh sweet Thorn Witch-

That scent alone was enough to send an army fleeing in fear. Chills traveled down Tullius’s spine as he peered into the pot of hell. He couldn’t even tell what it was supposed to be or what it was even made up. Was it burnt, or was it supposed to be that black? Oh Guivre, Tullius swore he just saw it move!

“Oh, yes. Very special,” Tullius replied, his voice hoarse. It was special in the way poisoned laced meals were special.

Tullius wasn’t fond of humans, but at that moment, he felt a great swell of pity for the tiny human.

Eating that would be a fate worse than death-

“Here, why don’t you have a bite.”

Before Tullius could protest or flee for his life, Lilia pulled out a spoon, scooped a generous portion out of the hell pot, and shoved it into Tullius’s mouth.

Immediately, Tullius gagged, his eyes tearing up. He couldn’t describe the taste, for it was unlike anything Tullius had ever tasted in his life. If he had to choose, he might describe it tasting like death and old hair.

“Lost for words, Tullius?”

No. He was unable to form words, for he feared that if he opened his mouth his stomach would return that horrid substance with a vengeance.

Tullius ran from the hallway in search of the nearest lavatory, his hand clamped over his mouth.

Lilia watched him run, “My, my. What a dramatic little birdie he is.”

Bonus:

“My young prince, have you seen Silver anywhere?” Lilia asked when he chanced upon Malleus in the hallway, his dark cloak wrapped around his tall figure.

Malleus shook his head, “I’m afraid not.”

Lilia sighed before continuing his search, “Silver! Little Owl!”

When Lilia had left, Malleus lifted his cloak, “You can come out now.”

Silver crawled out, gazing up at Malleus with grateful violet eyes, “Thank you.”

“Avoiding supper?”

Silver shivered, “It winked at me.”

Malleus nodded in sympathy. He himself had suffered Lilia’s cooking before. Even his fearsome grandmother avoided Lilia’s dishes as if they were cursed.

“Well, I cannot allow you to go hungry. Do you wish to have some ice cream with me?”