Somehow, he wasn’t surprised when she looked away. Not really. There was too much philosophy in the answer for him to know it, but understanding and knowing were two very different things sometimes. Two sides of the same coin, maybe. Jules didn’t care, he only knew what he’d seen, that she’d been turning away since the slide, but he understood that, in some way, she’d been doing it far before then. He just hadn’t seen it. 

Well, to each their own. She’d treated with him fair, though they all were sure she had her secrets, and he wasn’t one to pry. The night and the rain may have hidden her pain this time, but not every time. It would have been rude to go poking his nose where it wasn’t wanted. He did, however, snort at her words. “Ayuh, I suppose it will, getting out of under that thing’s eye. So long’s it don’t make us all soft.”

That wouldn’t do, the threat was still here, somewhere. They were all growing sure of it, but who wouldn’t seek comfort when afraid? He’d blame no one for breathing a sigh of relief once the man-thing was gone. Nor, truthfully, could he have blamed them had they then been relieved that their bad luck charm had gone away with it. He’d miss her though, and if anyone tried saying that was the end of it, he’d give them a proper clout over the head, knock some sense into their thick skulls. But his mouth opened and shut on a protest when she told him to get back inside and leave her to it. It was no use saying anything more, she’d made up her mind. He couldn’t help tucking his chin into his beard in disapproval though, even as his eyes narrowed at the rest of her words. She’d just given him something to think about, long into the night. 

“I’ll give it a good go, eh.” His smile was broad, more challenge than pleasure, though it wasn’t her he was challenging. Then he clapped her on the back and hitched up his cloak, pulling it in tighter with his one hand and covering the other where it was settled in a sling. “Watch yourself out there.” He had every intention of going back to the fire just as she’d suggested. At least, until he reached the door and glanced back. Couldn’t see much on a night like this, just empty shadows. Wouldn’t do to have her leave without anyone watching. He might not have believed she was the source of their bad luck, but he had his own superstitions, and Jules paid them proper mind. But let her think them through with each other for now. He turned back and let himself in at the door.

------

Shaking, he watched them leave. The man he’d bitten, the scent of his blood had lingered in his nose for some time that first day. But now, it was only a memory he held onto in case the man wanted to bite back. The other, who watched him like a dark-feathered thief. She wanted something, he did not know what. He had no meat to share. So, he just watched her. They walked away. And he was alone. 

In the wet. In the mud. In the night. For the first time since they’d brought him here.

It was cold. He hadn’t noticed. His pacing kept him warm, his worry was for other things. The rain was too heavy, big drops striking everywhere hard. Weighing him down. He shook himself out, trying to be rid of the tracing lines the water made on his bare skin, and the cool hand it pressed against him as it soaked into the clothes on his back. No more time to sleep or think. He was alone. He wanted to leave. The air was empty of life when it had been full on his arrival. He did not want to be empty of life either. 

Matiir crouched over the pin that attached his chain to the ground. He already knew it went deep to hold him there. Like a tree. But trees were too big to wrap his hands around. This metal was not. He bent down, testing it with his teeth first, tugging it sideways as far as the loose mud would allow before glancing up, snuffing warily, to be sure he was still alone. Then, hooking his fingers through the same loop that held onto the end of the chain, he backed up. 

It did not come willingly. But it did come. Slowly. 

He put all his weight – not as substantial as it should have been – behind his pulling. Slipping in the mud, it was as much an effort to hold himself in place as it was to drag the pin towards him. It was a third of the way free when footsteps warned him back, and he rushed to the far end of his cage, chain snapping taut as it pulled him up short of getting anywhere. His breath rasped against the back of his throat, lips rising, nose wrinkling as he bared his teeth. His hair was in his eyes, he had no tail to raise and the mud was grabbing at his hands and feet. He wanted out.

Yet when she opened the door, his warning her away only grew more insistent. He didn’t know what she wanted, and he could not escape. So, he roughed out a growl and tried to back up farther. The pin refused to move.