Chapter 2

The silence was long and painful. Rye, Ash and Tark sat on the floor around their meal of sliced bread and seasoned water that Ash was trying to pass off as soup, the three of them barely eating. The less food they ate now, the more they could have later. Ash had been happy to see Rye come home, but he also hadn't said anything since Rye showed them the prize loaf he brought with him.

It was true that they wouldn't have been able to have such a luxury in more honest circumstances, but they lived in the Shadows, past the wall. Did anyone really expect them to abide by the same rules that those inside the wall still upheld? Besides, Tark was growing worse each day. He needed some good nutrition if he was going to live. Rye knew it and Ash knew it. What other options did they have.

Tark coughed tiredly from where he sat, but a warm smile crossed his face as he looked at Rye. "This is a good meal, Rye."

"Yes, it is," agreed Ash. "We're quite lucky to have such a feast."

Rye said nothing, but tried to force a small smile. Tark knows something. He always did. He looked at his soup and spooned a mouthful down, content to let the silence return.

"We really are," Tark said. "Tell me. How did we run into such luck? Hm?"

Looking into his eyes, Rye could see a glimmer dancing. He wasn't sure how, but Tark knew exactly what Rye had done to that merchant in the alley. He just wanted to get Rye to say it formally.

"Oh, um," began Rye, "you don't need to worry about that." Tark's glimmering eyes solidified to a knowledge. He might as well have confessed with that awkward attempt at a brush-off. Rye never could lie well. All he knew was how to fade away and carry himself with grace. He continued on, trying to sooth over his words and distract from the problem at hand. "I mean, you two have provided for me so long and so well. I just want to repay you."

Tark's long dark hair fell in front of his face as he looked down at those words. This is it, this is my chance. Rye started to fade again, allowing himself to become difficult to notice. The gift that he was born with, after he mastered it, allowed him to slip between others' levels of perception. A normal person was simply as notable as the people around wanted him to be. Someone like Rye could control how much attention others were able to give him. Some states required more attention to be in than others, and for Rye, his natural state was to be just under the radar. Still someone you could see and interact with, but easy to forget they were there.

"Rye, we never wanted you to feel like you owed us," started Tark. "We saw you and loved you. We can't have children of our own obviously," Ash's blond hair lay in front of his eyes as he gazed at Tark. "We just wanted-- Rye! Stop it." Tark broke into a light laughter as he realized that Rye was trying to throw him off his trail. He regained his composure, and Rye stopped fading. "You can't do this to us. We're your family. Have been for the past 15 years. Your thieving gift is not something you should be using on--"

Loud banging on the door cut off Tark's words. Rye looked back at Tark and Ash, then stood up to go see who was here. Before he could make it to the door, Daylyn Kellis opened the door and came crashing through. She was their neighbor that lived just below them in this old abandoned building.

"Daylyn?" said Ash. Her short brown hair stuck up in every direction, a sheen of sweat glistened on her face, and dark eyes looked around frantically. "What's wrong Daylyn?"

"We have someone! She came back! She returned! Oh it's horrible, the poor thing." Ash stood, speechless.

"You don't mean," began Tark. "We... Someone's returned from the haze?"

"Yes! It's the little girl who went missing a week ago." There was a brief pause of silence as everyone in the room thought about what was just said. Rye immediately faded to become unnoticeable. If someone has returned from the haze, there's no way Tark or Ash would willing let him go check on her. Especially if she was gone for a week. But if she survived in the haze for a week, Rye couldn't pass the opportunity to see her. He slipped pass Daylyn Kellis and made his way down the steps.

"A week..." said Tark at last, breaking the silence. He looked down at the half loaf of bread still left from dinner. "Here, Daylyn. Take this bread to the girl. She needs it more than we do." The excitement of the evening was wearing on Tark, leaving him without much energy. But he gathered up the rest of the loaf of bread, as well as his uneaten half piece he had with dinner, and tried to raise himself to his feet.

"Tark, we can't." said Ash.

"Ash. This is not a discussion. Someone is in need. We can't stand by." He turned to Daylyn, his legs starting to shake. Ash came to support him, and nodded his consent. Fearful though Ash was for Tark's health, this kind of offering was exactly what he loved most about his companion. Ash eased Tark back down onto a sitting mat, and took the bread.

With a deep breath, Ash gave away the food to Daylyn. "Please, Daylyn. Take this to her, to the girl. And let us know how her condition is faring."

"Of course, Ash. Thank you both so much." Daylyn turned and left in a hurry, closing the door behind her.

Ash sighed, turning back to Tark and the meal they had not finished. He started putting his soup away as Tark lay back with eyes closed, resting. Someone returning from the haze. The poor thing would be in such pain, physically, mentally, emotionally. If she recovered, she'd be unlucky. It would be better for her if she died. But it would be better for everyone else if she recovered, so they could learn anything from her.

A vague thought pricked and Ash's mind "Tark?"

"Mm?" he replied sleepily.

"Where's Rye?"

Tark furrowed his brow in confusion and opened his eyes. "Oh gods above." Looking around the empty room, he tried to remember exactly when Rye disappeared, but he couldn't be sure. With all the commotion and Rye's subtlety, he couldn't know when it was he left. "I think we'll be hearing about the girl from someone other than Day."