It was late at night from the Salvage Yards, Cinder decided to go for a walk?it seemed as if it had been raining on and off for days now. Feeling as if he had neither won nor lost, he finished up the cleaning of his cart throwing the debris and luckily the rain had washed the bed free from honey. His feet bare feet making little sound as he walked the road. He had wandered to the dimly lit Maritime, wondering what was going on. He looked at Renne?s candle glowing in the window. He recalled how his visit went, he was happy to see Renne, he missed the imp and hoped for the best. He promised himself to visit him in jail another time, perhaps bringing more cookies.

He opened up the back door; the elf would find that the place was empty. Taking a bottle of deer blood from the fridge he opened it up and headed to the bar filled up a glass and then added some anise liquor to it. He settled in at the counter, Delliah greeted him with a purr at his leg pawing at a cord from his skirt. She hopped up and sat beside him. ?The man from Barmouth came and dropped off a letter?. She fetched it for him and she headed up the stairs slowly. ?A letter for me, what is?? He was worried at first remembering the last letter he had received. Cinder read quietly taking a few sips from the elixir. Relieved, he recalled Harold saying something about the cottage a few days ago.

Cinder had a cottage on Plygrethia, though now it was more of a storage house rather than living arrangements. He finished up his drink, licking the sides of his mouth and folded the letter into his shirt pocket. ?I wonder if she would mind me and a kitten?? He headed upstairs seeing Delliah had already helped Cinder gather his things, a pair of gloves. He propped her up on his shoulder and he put on his gloves. As he was making his way out of the room he stopped hearing the chimes in the window. He lifted up the screen and reached outside. Unlatched from the hook he then closed the window and headed out from the room. Going downstairs he stopped looking at the chimes in his hands. He had second thoughts. ?I wouldn?t want to bring trouble, or anything?.

Looking around the place he recalled a lot of good times that he had an honor to be a part of. He headed into the kitchen and stared into the fridge, taking the mustard and headed out. He closed the door and walked away. Following the directions were easier than he thought as he walked in the company of summoned wraiths. The rain didn?t bother him or his party as they walked. The elf was quit jubilant as he heard a few thunder rolls overhead. Occasionally the wraiths hissed and chattered, perhaps they were confused as to why they were brought forth only to be traveling companions. He had them marching in fashion onward to the cottage. Delliah complained. ?Is this necessary, it?s the middle of the night and you have these things traveling with us?! Cinder nodded. ?You are wrong it?s almost day?. He grinned nudging his head onto her. ?Won?t be long now the sun will be up and I?ll be sleeping, noon time sounds like a good waking hour?. Everyone in his group sighed in unison as he chuckled.

Luckily they had ended at the cottage that was mentioned in the directions and letter. Cinder waved off the wraiths, which were more than happy to return to the void. Delliah pursued the horses she spotted in the distance, inspecting the area. Hopefully she could fetch a few rats. Cinder was at the door holding a bottle of mustard and his wind chimes. ?It?s almost like home, perhaps it would be okay to add some wildflowers and a clothesline outside?. Smiling, the rain beaded down from the well-worn hat. He was unsure but he opened the door anyway, and headed inside closing it softly. He could pick up the scent of the demon. Hoping not to wake Sarah he remained deathly silent as he walked into the kitchen he smiled upon the picture. Looking at them he wondered about Ranyor and Lil it?s been a long time. He still had arrows waiting for her all this time. He walked to a room that he figured would be good as any to get some rest. Sure enough there was a bed and nobody was in it.

He settled in on the bed. ?I think this is overdoing it?. It?s been a long time since he had slept in a bed. He managed to get over it and stood up taking off the gloves, the hat and unbuttoning the sleeves of the half shirt. Hanging them inside the closet?he was hoping he would be here just for a little while. He really would hate to get in the way.
Leaving the door a jar so a fine crack of light could find its way into the room. He loosened the cord of the skirt and then rested on top of the bed, hands clasped over his chest. His clawed like toes curling up and down, it felt really good to be off his feet he thought. Yawning, a few tears of exhaustion rolled off his cheeks. Closing those tired eyes he was beginning to drift off on the sea of sleep.

~Peace be with you elfy~

Der Philosoph hat wie der Hausbesitzer immer Reparaturen.
The philosopher, like the homeowner, always has repairs.
Wilhelm Busch (1832-1908)