Ylvir shifted uncomfortably, not from his position, but from the woman's inquisitive stare, enlarged by the glass discs before them. Though as uncomfortable as it made him, he could not help but feel a strange familiarity with her that eased his cautious mind. He wasn't sure what it was about her. It was almost as if he had met her before, though he could not recall anything about it no matter how hard he thought on it.

"What do you want to know?" he quietly asked in return to her own question.

She smiled. "Well, a good place to start might be what brings you to the forest. Maybe you could explain the chicken while you're at it."

"Dandy? She just wanted to come with me. It's normal for her to do as she pleases, and this time it was traveling with me," he shrugged from the floor.

"So why are you traveling?"

Ylvir averted his gaze. "I felt that it was time."

She said nothing for some time, simply rocking leisurely in her chair. Then she asked, "If I might ask, where is it you're heading?"

Ylvir's strange features twisted as best they could into a rueful smile. "Your guess is as good as mine."

She gave her own mischievous smile. "I could point you in a few directions."

Ylvir perked up. "Really? You would do that?"

"Of course. Nothing I wouldn't do for Aloris and Reul's boy."

Ylvir bristled at those words, hackles rising, and caution taking over his mind. "How do you know who I am?" he asked slowly and carefully.

"Well, for starters, there's that pretty little necklace your wearing. Almost didn't see it through all the fur. Belonged to your mother, right? Then there's also the matter that I would recognize my own handiwork anywhere."

Ylvir, touched the necklace which had hung very loosely around his mother's but was tighter against his own. "You made this?"

"The necklace?" she laughed heartily, then shook her head, white curls bouncing with the motion. "Certainly not. I couldn't jewel craft to save my life. No, dear. The fact is it was you that I made."

Ylvir stared at her blankly. "What?"

She frowned slightly, brows furrowing as she leaned in to examine his features. "Your parents never told you, did they?"

"Tell me what?" Ylvir asked with utter confusion that was slowly turned to dread, as he leaned away from her.

The woman merely nodded and sighed, leaning back. "Figures they wouldn't tell you about me. Probably was for your own good. Shoulda kept my mouth shut."

"Miss, what are you talking about?" he asked with rising fear, cutting through her rambling.

Her eyes snapped to his. "Your parents could not conceive."

The sudden revelation brought his mounting fear to a dead stop. "What?"

She sighed again. "They could not conceive. By the time they came to me, they were at their last hope. They had gone from doctor, to medicine woman, to alchemist, and any other person who they thought might help them find a way. Searching for me was a last resort. Always is. But I did not give them what they wanted. I dashed their last hopes away when I told them it would be impossible for them to conceive."

Ylvir was slightly more relaxed, but no less confused. "But—"

"Relax, I'm getting there," she cut him off and silenced him with a hand. "It really was sad to see your parents in such a state at that news. Your mother wouldn't stop crying, and when your father wasn't consoling her, he was cursing me. Then your mother started begging me. She begged and begged that all she wanted was a child of her own, one to love and care for and hold and raise—the usual things you want with a child. Your father didn't say anything, but I could see he wanted it, too. He just let your mother do all the talking. I—being the softie I am—was so touched by their love and their unhindered desire that I decided to give them what they wanted. For better or worse. I had a talking to with the Great Spirits, they gave the go ahead—lots of blood and a great deal of dirt later, you were born. Did not get the thanks I was expecting, but I suppose they didn't get what they were expecting either. Probably had something different in mind when I told them I could give them a child."

Ylvir stayed still, then turned red eyes that beseeched her dark ones. "I don't understand."

The woman cocked her head at him. "What don't you understand?"

Ylvir's gaze hardened slightly. "How could you have created me?"

"Simple," she shrugged. "Magic."

"But magic like that doesn't exist," he protested before hesitating. "Does it?"

Her magnified eyes turned sympathetic. "Not for some time, no. It's one that's been long forgotten. You know; use it or lose it—and most decided it was better off lost to obscurity."

Ylvir nodded absentmindedly, but after a moment of thinking turned wary eyes to hers again. "Why?"

Her expression became sorrowful, her ageless face suddenly looking old indeed. "It's a magic that comes with a very costly price—one that is probably the very reason your parents never told you about me."

Ylvir felt his blood drain from him and his heart slow. "What is it?"

She eyed him carefully. "Are you sure you want to know?"

Ylvir nodded stiffly. He felt it was important to not be ignorant to his own past.

"Very well," she said, her face turning serious and grim. "Tell me, have you had any...outbursts? Rages?"

The memory of that night at the festival flashed through his mind. He nodded.

She hummed thoughtfully. "Ylvir, your nature is a very volatile one. In a way, you were born of several parents, not just your human ones. You were also born of the crow, the bear, the wolf, the stag, the serpent, and others—beasts of the forest, children of the Great Spirits. They are in harmony with one another, but are never one with the human element. This discord manifests itself in fits of rage and violence, usually triggered by circumstances. What happened when you fell victim to it?"

Ylvir swallowed thickly before whispering, "A man was whipping a dragon, and I...attacked him."

Her own eyes burned at his words, and Ylvir swore the fire they sat beside flared up with heat as well. "Whipping a dragon?!"

Ylvir was somewhat comforted to have his own feeling reflected in someone else, but he was more presently frightened by her clear wrath. "I freed her. She should be safe now," he assured the woman.

The tightness faded from her and she relaxed in her seat again, releasing a long breath, the fire seeming to cool as well. "No wonder you lost control. I nearly just did, myself," she smiled faintly.

"So," Ylvir said after a small pause, reverting back to the matter at hand. "Do you mean to tell me that I may lose control again?"

She gazed at him with sorrow once more. "I can guarantee it. And that's not even the worst bit."

"I-It isn't?"

She shook her head. "No. The fits only get worse every time, and one day they may very well be your undoing. There's far more beast than man to contend within yourself. It's likely you will lose your humanity completely one day."

With those words, Ylvir was dealt one of the hardest blows in his life. Suddenly he was faced with the possibility of his dream becoming an appalling reality. He felt just as he had at the end of that nightmare—swallowed completely by darkness and devoid of hope. Until he asked her the only question he could think of in that moment, a tear trailing into the dark fur of his face.

"What do I do?"

The strange woman regarded him sympathetically. "That entirely depends on you and what you want."

"Can I stop them—the rages," his red eyes pleaded with hers desperately.

She frowned and shook her head, her white frizz swaying. "I'm afraid not, no."

"What about you," he practically begged. "You made me—can't you fix it or something?"

She let out a lengthy sigh that carried many emotions with it. "That's not how it works, Ylvir."

Ylvir's despair turned to anger. "So what? I'm just supposed to live with the fact that I'm just going to be some rampaging monster for the rest of my life? That's not fair!"

The woman reached out a slender finger and pressed it firmly to his forehead, giving him a stern look as his eyes swiveled up to stare at it.

"Funny," she said. "I seem to remember giving you a decent head on your shoulders. So why aren't you using it properly?"

Ylvir huffed at her. "What do you mean?"

She removed her finger and leaned back into her seat again, her expression miffed as the chair creaked and rocked back with her. "I told you the choice is yours what you do or not. You were made for a purpose—that purpose has been fulfilled. Your parents raised a fine young man, did they not? One that won't wallow in his own misery? Eh?"

He nodded dumbly.

"Yes! So take advantage of this new life you can make for yourself," she said with great gusto and exaggerated arm motions that had Ylvir leaning back to avoid a swing at his face. "You left home for a reason, yes? Of course you did. Tell me again, what was it?"

"To...see the world," he offered slowly, still caught off guard by the small woman's energy.

"To see the world," she reiterated with exclamation. "Fantastic! Seeing all that there is to offer out there beyond the safety of home. What a wonderful way to spend your days! Experiencing things to their fullest—yes, I think there is no better way to live. And I'm certain the hen will appreciate it."

Ylvir nodded along. He couldn't help it—her enthusiasm was infectious, which he supposed was her goal. He did have doubts, though.

"But...what about losing control?"

She surprised him with a smile, her dark eyes regaining that mischievous glint that was magnified by the strange glass discs held in a wire frame that perched on her slightly hooked nose. "That's just a risk you'll have to take, isn't it?"