Back in Blackshire Village, Alptraum's heroics (rescuing from Poe from not just one, but two ghosts, so the story is being told) earn him a bed at the Blackshire Inn, and a personal visit from a Savanite physician (though his methods make Alptraum strongly suspect that the more appropriate term would be "medicine man").

The physician required some assistance from a translator – the innkeeper, a Jupani known as Madame Garou – but Alptraum eventually figured out that, amazingly enough, nothing was broken. He has merely suffered a great many bruises from his misadventure.

That finished, the physician left, and once there was no longer an excuse of a working doctor to hold curiosity-seekers at bay, his room was no longer quite so private anymore.

"How'd you do it?" "What did it look like?" "Are you some sort of ghost-hunter?" "Have you done this sort of thing before?" "Are you mad?"

The questions come a bit faster than he can really field them. At least along with them come several offers of cider and some offerings from the meal being served downstairs.

Alptraum sits up in bed, thinking back over all the questions. Insane? Well, maybe. There's a fine line between a hero and a dead idiot, after all. As politely as he can, he passes on the offers of a meal. He does, however, at least accept the offer of some cider. The thought of having some ghost-dust in his mouth makes him cringe.

The cider proves to be a fair bit better in his mouth than ghost-dust, to be sure, and it proves an excellent excuse for some of the visitors to go a little easier on demanding details of the story from him: while the hero is having a sip of cider, he can't very well speak.

"She got away," a black shaggy Khatta says, as he steps in to announce the news to those present. "Search is called off. The zombies and ghosts can have her, I say," he grumbles.

Alptraum chuckles softly and shakes his head. "Somehow, I think she'll survive out there," he replies. "You'll get a second chance."

There are a few groans from those assembled. "Duchess Eve was in tears," one Korv caws softly.

Alptraum feels a sinking feeling upon hearing about the duchess, but there's not much he can do about it now. A life in the wild isn't easy. Alptraum looks around at those who are there and oddly wishes he was just back home in the wagon. All these strangers…

As if in answer to his quiet wishes, Dimitris pushes his way into the room. "Alptraum!" he exclaims. "What happened?" His mother is out in the hallway – Perhaps Dimitris ordered her to stay out there, fearing that Alptraum might be in some horrid condition that her eyes should be spared from. (Dimitris is that way sometimes.)

"I'm all right," he assures his father. "I went after the thief and almost caught her. She got away, though. Then when Poe and I tried to fly back, we ended up meeting an old ghost … Nachtbrise Darken, was her name." He swallows. "That was strange. She spoke the song to me. The song. But, before I could learn more, she vanished. Then this nasty, well, pirate ghost thing showed up and went after Poe." He shakes his head and sighs. "I don't know what came over me, but I attacked it. It went poof, and I went splat into the ground. Nothing broken, just bruised and a bit of wounded pride." Alptraum then grins sheepishly.

There are some hushed whispers about the room at the mention of the name, and some of the visitors file out. Dimitris, however, seems quite proud, and reaches out to pat Alptraum on the shoulder – but then halts, as if considering whether that would be such a good idea, not knowing exactly where all those bruises are.

Alptraum smiles again. "I'll be fine, really," he insists, and tries to climb out of bed. "Sorry for taking off like that, but I knew our tribe would be accused of the theft if one of us hadn't have gone after her. I hope the rest of the show went well."

"Not nearly so exciting as I'd hoped," Dimitris says, "but I think you've more than made up for it." He turns toward the door. "Sabine! Come on in – He's fine."

Alptraum's mother rushes in, and immediately throws her arms over Alptraum, kissing his face all over and messing up his hair, and generally frustrating his attempts to get out of bed. "My poor kitten!" she gushes. "You had me worried unto death, you did!"

"Ugh – Ow!" protests Alptraum. "Hey, careful. I'm intact, but a bit beaten, careful," he complains, suddenly glad his fur and skin are black or his ears would be red. "I know it was a crazy thing to do, but, I just had to. Sorry."

Dimitris starts shooing people out. "Come now! He needs some privacy! He's just been poked and prodded by some doctor, and you want to crowd his bed? Come now! Out, out!" He sweeps with his wings for emphasis.

Traum glances at his father, very grateful that he's clearing the room. "I also think I met another like me," he whispers to his mother. "In this town."

Sabine nods, whispering back. "Yes, he had many questions for us." Once Dimitris has the last one out, she speaks a bit more loudly. "Really, Alptraum, you must be more careful! But I cannot help myself; I am proud of you anyway!"

Alptraum groans for emphasis and stretches. "You're telling me I should be more careful. Honestly, I'm amazed I'm intact. I crash-landed two times, ugh," he says, then whispers back, "He knew?"

"He did not have those kinds of questions," Sabine says. "I do not know what he knows."

Dimitris, satisfied that the room is vacated and there are no eavesdroppers at the door, walks back over to the bed. "Can you get up and about, son?"

Alptraum looks slightly relieved and nods to his mother. "Sorry I wasn't around to play tonight," replies Alptraum as stands slowly to answer his father, "I really wanted to play the song I remember from my childhood." He grunts softly, then says, "I'm a bit sore, but walking will help, I think."

"No, no, my son," Dimitris says, gently trying to push Alptraum back into his bed. "You stay there. You have been greatly beaten up in the act of saving poor Farmer Poe. This will earn considerable sympathy with the villagers, and they will be more inclined to let us stay longer – and perhaps more generous in sharing their bounty, yes?"

Sabine frowns at Dimitris. "You would exploit his injuries?"

"In a wing-beat!" Dimitris says with a straight face.

Traum laughs. "Well, he does have a point, Daia. But, there is the um, problem with me staying here for any length of time," he points out.

Sabine covers her mouth. "Dimitris… "

Dimitris scowls. "Ah. Would that I were the one fighting these monsters, and bedridden. I could do with the rest, I am sure. All right, all right. As soon as you are hungry, you will be recovered, I am sure. But until then, not so quick to say, 'I am unhurt, it was nothing!' or else that is what they will think, and reward you accordingly."

"Oh, you two," Traum says, sighing. He settles back down on the bed. "So, what has been happening outside the inn since I got back? Daia said you two met the Sheriff?"

"There is singing and music, if we would stop talking long enough for you to hear out the window," Sabine says. "These people, they have had many monsters, so they are not so quick to stop their holiday for only two ghosts."

"As for the sheriff," Dimitris cuts in, "he is full of questions, looking for trouble. He will be watching us closely, I am sure, and if someone loses a ring or miscounts a coin, we will be to blame. Let us not get too comfortable here for the winter, for I fear he will send us along before it is over with – ghost-fighting or not."

Alptraum blinks and looks at his mother, then at his father. "Avralie," Traum agrees, "He was suspicious of me in the forest, even though I went after the thief." He shrugs. "Just because someone dresses like us doesn't make them one of the tribe." He sighs and asks, "What was he asking about?"

"He seemed to want to make absolutely certain that spotted girl was not one of us," Dimitris says, "though how can we possibly prove such a thing? That is like trying to prove that there is no such thing as a shelwhal! Even if I could drain the ocean and lay the whole earth bare, you could say, 'Yes, but it might be somewhere else!'"

"Oh, he was not that bad," Sabine says, waving off Dimitris. "We will watch out for ourselves, that is all."

Alptraum huffs softly and nods. "Well, he wanted me searched when I got back here. They probably did while I was out, I imagine," Traum says. "I would like to talk to him, though," he then admits.

"Well then," Dimitris says, in a low voice, "perhaps you should get dressed and presentable. All the better for fleeing out the window if matters turn ugly… "

"And why would things get ugly?" Alptraum asks.

"And why would they not?" Dimitris says with a shrug. "One cannot be too careful with strangers. Certainly, this sheriff is careful with us!"

Traum blinks, then reaches up to his neck as something occurs to him. He fumbles, checking to see if his pendant is still there. "Well, when you think on it, there are members of our tribe who have caused problems before, Father. Some bit of suspicion is always wise. I just hope he isn't trying to get us in trouble."

Alptraum's neck is bare. The pendant is gone.

Alptraum curses loudly. "Where is my pendant?!?" he says loudly, and starts climbing out of bed again, almost frantic.

Sabine blinks, and shrinks back. "I will go and be sociable now. You help him, Dimitris." And with no further word, she excuses herself quickly from the room.

Dimitris, thrown off, works his mouth, but no words come at first. "You were robbed? The scoundrels!" He looks about the room, searching for the missing pendant, which doesn't present itself so easily.

Alptraum halts, mouth agape. He looks to his father and asks, "Is Daia okay? She isn't normally like that. Is something wrong?" He wobbles over to his clothes and starts going through them.

Dimitris stops, then laughs. "You curse so loudly, and hop up without your trousers, and you wonder that she leaves the room? Come now!"

"It's not like she didn't raise me," Alptraum points out, laughing.

As for Alptraum's clothes, searching through them doesn't produce the missing pendant. By the time he's checked the last fold and pocket, there comes a knock at the door. "Reisender," comes the voice. "It is I, Sheriff Darken."

Dimitris continues his search of the room, not volunteering, by the looks of things, to answer the door. (Or, it could simply be that, since he's stooped over, he's going to have trouble getting back up again, and is loathe to admit this with strangers present – even if on the other side of a door.)

"One moment, please," Traum replies toward the door. Within a few minutes, the ebon Eeee is at least wearing his trousers and shirt. He walks back over to the bed and sits on the edge. "Come on in. Sorry for the delay. I needed to be presentable."

Dimitris solves his situation by echoing Alptraum and sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed. He winces, but tries to conceal it.

Traum quickly leans over and whispers to his father, "You should be more careful. You know your back isn't what it used to be."

The sheriff opens the door, holding a pendant on a chain. "I believe you are looking for this," he says, holding out the trinket. "Your mother passed me on my way to bring this back to you."

The ebon Eeee lets out a sigh of relief. "Indeed. For a moment, I thought someone had stolen it," Traum says as he looks over the sheriff. "It's probably not worth much to anyone but me. Thanks for bringing it back. But, why did you take it in the first place?"

"I needed to verify that it wasn't what I was looking for," the sheriff says, with no hint of remorse. "And it is not. In fact, it is nothing that I would like to find at all. You do not plan to stay long in Blackshire Village." The last might be a question, but his tone sounds closer to a statement.

"Why? It's just a trinket. I've had it for as long as I can remember. At least since I was two," Alptraum replies. "We're harming no one by being here. We've done nothing to deserve such distaste already." He sighs. "Look, if it's because of me, I'm no threat."

"Just a trinket? I am not some uneducated yokel, my boy, without books. I looked that up in my lord's library, and found it to be a sign of the Corpse. We do not harbor your kind here in Blackshire."

"Now see here!" Dimitris says, almost on the verge of forgetting himself and rising from the bed. "I don't know what you're getting at, but that's no way to treat my son!"

"Father," Traum says softly and lays his hand on his shoulder. "No, you look, Sheriff," Traum says, getting angry, "that pendant is all I have of my real parents, okay?" He looks toward Dimitris. "They found me when I was very young. Alone and on the road, in rags, I think. They adopted me. To me, that pendant is just a link to a history I don't even know. If it has meaning beyond that, I don't know of it."

The sheriff looks long and hard at Alptraum. He wears a pair of rectangular spectacles that obscure his eyes – and, coupled with the light from the oil lamp in the room, that seems to diminish the red glow that Alptraum saw earlier, so the gaze isn't particularly disturbing … but Sheriff Darken seems definitely reluctant when he says, "Then you may stay a while. But if I catch you performing rituals or any sort of sorcery, you will be driven out of this town."

"Bah, rituals and magic. I'm a musician and flyer, nothing more," Traum replies. "So, when's the last time you fed?" Traum finally asks, irritation wearing a bit on his tact and nervousness.

"Just before coming here," the sheriff says, showing no sign on of his face of being fazed by the question. "I have nothing further to ask of you." And with that, he heads for the door.

"Wait, please," comes Traum's voice, a bit softer now. "I've never met another."

Sheriff Darken doesn't heed Alptraum's plea, but only wordlessly opens the door, steps through, and closes it again behind him.

Alptraum fits the pendant back around his neck and fastens it closed. Quietly, he drops it back beneath his shirt and sighs. "Not even welcome by my own kind," he mutters, shaking his head. He sits quietly for a time, then speaks up. "Father, maybe I should leave the tribe. I fear having me with you isn't going to make the winter easy on all of you."

Dimitris shakes his head. "And where will you go? I know you are a skilled hunter, but alone in the woods during the Sylvanian winter … there is more to worry about than sustenance, my son." He sighs heavily. "Your mother and I know that you must find your own way, one of these days … but not like this."

"I don't want to leave, but," Traum says, glancing toward the door, "if all are going to treat us like that, just because of me… " He hangs his head, then asks quietly, "What did he mean? What is the symbol of the Corpse? What is he afraid of?"

"I … I don't know, my son," Dimitris says, obviously shaken. "I … I just don't know." With some effort, he manages to stand upright again. "I will go check on your mother, and see if I can find something for you – maybe I will be lucky. You should get your rest."

From the sounds coming in through the floor and window, though, it sounds like it's a bit too early for most of the village to consider turning in.

"Don't trouble yourself, okay? I can wait a day or so and hunt far from town then. Plus, your back is acting up terribly. Just go tell Daia I'm sorry for my outburst, please," Traum replies weakly. "Did my recorder survive my fall? Maybe some music will make me feel better."

"Ah, yes," Dimitris says, and digs into a pocket to produce it. "I'm sorry. I held onto it for fear it might be damaged." He hands it over to Alptraum.

The ebon Eeee accepts the instrument and offers a smile. "Thanks. You should go join the party. Maybe if I feel up to it, I'll come down later," he replies. He scoots back up onto the bed and turns so he can look out the window. Slowly, he raises his recorder to his muzzle and starts to play a slow, somber song. The song he remembers, the one that haunts him. As he plays, the Eeee watches the goings-on outside for a time. Watches, the word hangs in his mind, not part of. His eyes close as he plays, a feeling of being terribly alone settling over him.