The Beast

Chapter Eighteen

Ylvir knew his parents would be proud. That's what he kept thinking to himself as he laid sprawled on the floor of his room. His room. There was nothing like the feeling of having something to call his own when he had worked for and earned it himself. He touched the ruby strung around his neck. It was warm, almost like his mother's love was seeping through it to him.

Of course, he had yet to play with other musicians. He was actually quite nervous to. Those that Triel had introduced him to had all eyed him with suspicion. He couldn't blame them, though. He was a suspicious character, when he thought about it. Triel may have bought into the illness excuse, but it didn't mean everyone would. Thank goodness his room had a lock, or he never would have felt safe in a place so full of people who so obvious distrusted him.

He looked to the side at his folded cloak, the golden pin that marked him a new member gleaming atop it. He wished he didn't have to wear a cloak, but with that wish were a slew of underlying ones he would rather have not gotten into at that moment. Even if the thing made him seem shifty, he would take suspicion over contempt any day, for he knew that's exactly what he would get if he went without it.

Ylvir turned onto his belly, looking at Dandy who slept peacefully in her little corner. Thinking about home made him miss it a little, but he had enough pieces like her from it to placate him. There was also the necklace, as well as his book. He reached out to his pack, rummaging through it for the very thing.

He felt as though he were back in his hut, curled by the fire, between his parents as he read the same book he had read so many times before, never growing tired of it.

It was in that manner that he fell asleep alongside Dandy, dreaming of home.

~*~

Ylvir awoke to a loud knocking on his door.

"C'mon Ylvir. Hurry up, or you'll miss breakfast."

Ylvir rubbed his eyes groggily, looking at the hen who looked very miffed. He stroked her soft feathers, pacifying her. "I know. But you should be used to early mornings."

She cooed, rubbing her head against his pawish hand.

"Nervous? Why would I be nervous? There's nothing to be nervous for," he chuckled weakly. She nipped at his padded finger. "Ouch. Alright, maybe a little. But I'll be fine. Don't you worry. I'll be back soon enough with some bread, okay?"

The hen bobbed her head a few times, fluttering her wings as though to rush him out the door. After donning his disguise, he did just that.

He was surprised the smell of the sausages and rolls hadn't woken him instead of Triel's knocking. It smelled delicious--only slightly burned. When he entered the common room, he received many narrowed stares from its occupants, making him more than a little self-conscious. He brought his wings in tighter beneath his thick cloak to hide their nervous trembling as he walked to the spread of food across the room. It reminded him a little of his time in Grey Castle, but as he sat at a table by himself, that feeling vanished quickly.

Ylvir ate his food quietly, careful to avoid showing any fur or feathers. He handled the cutlery with care, grateful his father insisted he learn to use it properly, despite his many protests. When he became more comfortable and confident in his eating, he let his red-eyed gaze wander about the room.

The others wore all manner of clothes, the only thing really joining them together being the pin. They conversed quietly to each other, which Ylvir's hearing allowed him to listen to without strain. A lot of them actually seemed to talk about him, stealing occasional glances his way that caused him to tense and stiffen. The things they said did not put him in a particularly good light, but he supposed he should not have expected otherwise. He was glad that he wasn't the only topic, though. Others seemed to focus on the event that day in some way or another, and a few talked of how cold the last night had been and how it affected their sleep. It hadn't bothered him, but his thick fur usually kept it that way. Of course, the chill did make sense. Winter was creeping upon them.