Chapter Text
Arlo woke up feeling uncharacteristically comfortable, and for a moment, all he did was roll into the warmth and snuggle deeper into the soft blanket. It wasn’t until he felt the way his stomach ached that he realized something was wrong. Fear and nausea rushed through him as he sat up and blinked gummy eyes open into a room. Which was wrong –– last he remembered he was deep in the forest, far from any village or settlement. His throat burned as he swallowed, but the confusion was almost worse. Where was he and how did he get here? There was a part of him, however small, that wanted to shove the window across the small room open and flee, before whoever took him came to collect whatever dues they believed themselves owed for created debts.
He was doing fine on his own! He really was! The winter had hit hard, freezing anything that didn’t continue moving, but being a little cold was far better than any warmth Wilhelm had offered. Arlo almost stood up, he really did, but he also knew that if didn’t make it through the window and somewhere unfindable, there would be hell to pay. Whoever brought him here would probably not like the lack of appreciation. Besides, he wasn’t currently chained down or locked in a cage, keeping that freedom would be vital for escape later on.
Even inside, the air was cold, and shivering, Arlo wrapped himself back into the blanket and reassessed his condition. Aside from the faint nausea and sore throat, he felt distinctly dehydrated and hungry, but there were no injuries or pains that indicated rough handling, for which he was grateful. The room itself was relatively empty, the bed being the only major occupant, though there was one small chest against the opposite wall. Arlo’s heart slowly started to calm, the quiet of the room and the warmth of the blanket doing wonders to gentle his racing mind, though his fingers never stopped trembling. He doubted they ever would, even if he made it to warmer weather. Whatever Wilhelm did to his hands in his last week at his tower left his fingers crooked and weak.
In the silence of the room, it was easy to hear the slight clattering of dishes when it happened. Arlo stiffened, his ears straining as he heard shuffling movement from somewhere beyond the door. Trembling wracked his body and his fingers tightened in the blanket as the sounds got closer. He was tempted to roll back over onto the bed and pretend to still be asleep, to avoid whatever confrontation whoever was out there would bring. He didn’t get to make that decision before the door creaked open and revealed someone painfully familiar.
During his stint in the woods, Arlo had seen a mage come and go, collecting various herbs, berries, and plants –– even eating a few of them as she shifted through snow and ice. Arlo, starving as he was, followed her example and collected the same berries and herbs that she ate. Now, he was facing her again, this time without the safety of his smaller form and the plausible deniability of the forest to keep her attention from finding him. He could hear his breaths quicken in a way that probably wasn’t healthy, but his vision was swimming too badly to do anything about that. The mage–– and oh god, did she know?–– stepped in closer, a furrow in her brows. She sat the tray down on the chest Arlo had noted early before getting even closer. Arlo flinched back, fearful of what she was planning and unsure how to minimize the damage of it. If she knew he was a familiar, then he had managed to fall right back into what he tried so desperately to escape from in the first place. Her mouth moved, like she was talking, but for some reason no sound came out. Her hand reached out, probably to take the blanket, or to yank him to the floor. Panicked, Arlo kicked out, falling backwards onto the bed and making solid contact with something. The startled “Oommph” made it through the haze and Arlo realized he had just kicked a mage. Oh he was so dead, and he didn’t even want to try to stop it. He threw the blanket over his head and felt the magic in his veins before stopping. If she didn’t know he was a familiar, he would be damned before revealing it, even accidently, so he squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the angry, hurtful hands to yank him from his cocoon and toss him in a cage.
Except, that never happened. Arlo waited and waited and waited, but instead of enraged yelling, there was a quiet shushing noise. Arlo felt another weight drop onto his back, he flinched before he realized it was an additional blanket. The weight soothed him, and eventually Arlo calmed enough to realize the mage had placed the blanket on him and was periodically humming from somewhere not on the bed. Tentatively, he shuffled out from under the blankets, eyes blinking in the light as he looked for where the mage had settled. He still believes that she will grab him as soon as she can, but it seems she is far more gentle than Wilhelm. The mage is knelt off to the side of the bed, a few strands of magic woven between her fingers. Before he could change his mind and return to the blankets, she looked up at him and smiled. There is a surprising lack of cruelty or gloating in the smile as she continues to carefully weave the magic. He isn’t sure what she is making, but it has been so long since he has seen any magic work and he has never seen it without the consistent drain-exhaustion-pain that came with Wilhelm’s weaving, so he watches. The mage smiled for a second more, then shifted her gaze back to her hands. Whatever she is weaving, the magic looks like nothing Arlo has seen before, silvery and delicate as she loops and twists and gently pulls into shape.
The quiet humming and careful movements pulled Arlo from his fear and his shoulders slowly began to lower. Eventually, she hit a snag, a knot in the thin magic that she picked at unsuccessfully before carefully laying the half finished spell on the floor beside her. It is only then that Arlo noticed that he had crawled all the way out from under the blankets and was leaning towards the mage to get a good look. When she stood, Arlo flinched, thinking that this was it, she would grab him and the gentle moment was over. Instead, she strode over to the chest and picked up the tray she had sat there earlier. In his panic, Arlo failed to notice that it held food, a bowl of (somehow still) gently steaming soup and a hunk of soft bread. “I brought you something to eat,” her voice was quiet, like she was trying not to frighten him. Arlo pathetically appreciated it. The tray was sat down on the bed beside him and Arlo, tired from the fear and feeling the growling, grumbling, aching feeling of hunger, didn’t care to worry about if this was a trap. With a single glance at the mage, he picked up the tray and tucked it into the soup.
It was hearty and creamy with some kind of grain and it warmed him up faster and better than even the blankets did. The bread was perfect for soaking up the leftover broth and oils as the soup got low and when it was eventually gone, his stomach ached with satisfaction. The mage took the tray, sat it back on the chest, and then sat herself down on the floor in front of him. It sent a jolt of anxiety through Arlo to see her lower herself, but the weight of the food and exhaustion was creeping up on him again. “Hello again, little one. I’m not surprised you don’t remember me, the last time we met you was near death.” Arlo felt all the exhaustion leave him. He peered at her, feeling a little concerned that he did not remember being ‘near death’ at all. She reached out with her hand, Arlo suppressed a flinch when all she did was lay the back of it against his forehead. “I’m glad I found you when I did, those berries you ate would have killed you before long.” Finally, all of the facts aligned in Arlo’s mind.
The stabbing, gurgling pain in his stomach. The hot, acidic bile rolling through his chest. He blurrily remembered retching and pain. He must have eaten the wrong kind of berries, either by mistake, or ––
Or because this mage knew he was following her and set a trap so that he would feel indebted. It was an ugly thought, one he didn’t really want to think about the mage who, thus far, has been gentle and kind. That she would use subterfuge to hurt him, almost kill him, to get her way is far more frightening than Wilhelm’s blatant cruelty. She smiled again, and the crinkle of her eyes drew him to notice their multicolored appearance, along with other things he was previously too inattentive to note. Her skin was mottled with lighter patches and her hair was a mismatch of brown and red, giving her the appearance of a calico. “My name is Misty, you might have noticed I am a mage. I brought you here to purge the yew berries you had eaten, can I help you get back to your home? We are a little far from the forest where I found you.” Arlo didn’t say anything. He didn’t have a home to go to, not really, but if he told her that then she would have the perfect excuse to keep him here. And if he lied and said he did then when she found out he lied she would be upset and might not let him go anyways. So he just said nothing. The mage –– Misty –– waited for a while. A lot longer than Wilhelm would have if Arlo didn’t answer him.
Eventually, Misty sighed and stood up, “I bet you’re tired, why don’t you try and get some sleep.” She took the tray with her, closing the door. Arlo wanted to check if it was locked, but he couldn’t gather the nerve. And in any case, he was very tired. It would be better to get as much rest as possible while Misty was still being nice. He rolled into the blankets and pressed his back against the wall.
He was asleep in seconds.