Leaving It In The Past
copyright 2020 comidacomida

Ken didn't sleep nearly as much as he used to-- once he hit his forties it seemed like he didn't need more than three or four hours, followed by another one or two in the afternoon.  It started before then, in fact, since he remembered that he got even less sleep after his son had been born.  Gazing down at his rambunctious son, the shopkeeper smiled, adjusted his glasses, and put forth his best 'father knows best voice'. "Evan... it's time for bed.  Agatha will be here soon and I need to man the shop."

Agathan had been beyond helpful to Ken ever since Evan had been born.  Caroline, his wife, and the love his life had passed away shortly after childbirth, and her best friend, who had recently escaped the barbarian invasion of Turdel Ridge had been a divine blessing.  The older woman needed somewhere to stay in Avenshire until she got back on her feet and, six years later, she still hadn't moved out.  Ken would have been lost without her.

Evan, ever the rambunctious child, still wasn't ready to surrender the waking world.  Reaching up and taking hold of Ken's ears, the boy curled his legs, forcing his father to grab hold of the lad's forearms, lest his ears bear the brunt of his son's weight.  "Dad?  Why don't I look like you?"

Ken snorted, slowly bending at the hip so he could lower his son onto the bed and remove the boy's hands from his large, triangular, furry ears.  "Because you take after your mother, Evan.  You know that."

Evan's mother had been a human woman; she'd lived her entire life in Avenshire.  Ken was different on a number of levels, including the fact that he'd only moved to the large city a few months before they'd met.  A much greater difference was the fact that he was a werewolf, and that was a great issue for most of their neighbors.  Despite being a natural lycanthrope and unable to spread the disease, few of the populace thought highly of him and, of course, he didn't entirely blame them.  In addition to being a relative outsider and a retired adventurer, Ken still looked like the horrors from the stories parents told their children.

Finally sitting on the bed, Evan nevertheless bounced on it as he spoke. "I think it'd be a lot of fun to be a werewolf!  I'd be able to protect all the other small kids from the bullies on the streets!"

Adjusting his glasses, Ken let out a sigh and finally had some success in getting his son tucked in. "That's what the guards are for, Evan.  Believe me: the world doesn't need more people getting their hands dirty dealing in the affairs of others."

Even though he'd been hyperactive mere moments before, the boy let out a large yawn. "Well... I think being different is a good thing... no matter WHAT the kids say about you."

It was the kind of compliment that made sense only to a child, but Ken smiled through the sting regardless.  "Well I think you being you is a good thing too."  The shopkeep reached out and touched his finger pad to his son's nose.  "Besides... no one can tell what the future brings, so there's no sense wishing about something before you know what the gods have planned... right?"

His son nodded sleepily, yawning again before saying "Have a good night at the shop, Dad.  Make lots of money."

Chuckling, Ken leaned over and touched his nose to his son's forehead in a kiss. "I will, my boy... and you get some sleep.  I don't want to come home tomorrow and find out you kept Agatha up all night.  She needs her sleep too if she's going to watch the shop while I'm here with you, right?"

When Evan didn't reply, the werewolf realized his son was already asleep.  Smiling to himself, he stood back up, ears swiveling when he heard the sound of the door to the cottage open.  Realizing that Agatha was early, Ken went to meet her, softly closing the door to his son's room behind him.  Walking out into the hallway, he was surprised to find out that it wasn't Agatha at all.  The man in his living room was several years older than himself, with graying black hair and a well-kept beard.  "Kenneth, my friend... we have a problem."

He hadn't seen Villis since shortly after Evan was born and the man's appearance was never a good thing.  Carefully gurding himself against what he knew was to come, Ken inquired "WE have a problem, or YOU have a problem?"

His old adventuring partner was as blunt as ever. "The Midnight Carnival just arrived outside town."

Ken felt his heart turn cold, but he powered through it. "It isn't been by in over six years... can it be that bad?"

Villis confirmed that it was. "Phil Barker is their gate man.  I ran into him at the guild hall and he's asking for a favor."

The chill in his chest flowed all the way to the tips of his ears and down to the end of his tail, which curled slighty at the realization.  "Fine.  Tell him I'm coming... but this is the last time."

Once his old adventuring partner left, Ken sat down at the table, calming himself as he considered time and time again what he would say to Agatha.  He ran out of time when she arrived some ten minutes later and, as always, she was astute enough to realize something was wrong.  The old woman came over and sat down opposite him at the small table.  "Alright, my friend, I've seen that look before.  What's wrong?"

She slid him a cup of tea which he accepted, but he left it on the table.  He could already see the blood on his claws and taste it in his muzzle; how had Phil become involved with the Carnival?  In the end, Ken looked across the table at his wife's old friend and offered as much of a smile as he could manage; he was certain that it came out more as a grimace. "I'll be gone tonight... and probably won't be back til late tomorrow."

The sympathy drawn across her face was almost too much and as she reached toward his paws with an old, withered hand he had to pull back lest his demeanor break.  She remained leaning forward but pulled her hand back. "Whatever's wrong, Ken, you can tell me.  I'm here for you and Evan... trust me."

The werewolf stood and walked around her, remaining out of arm's reach.  He picked up his old quarterstaff from where it had sat beside the door for years and, glancing back toward her he said in parting "Be here for Evan, Agatha.  He needs you."
 
The old woman didn't even miss a beat; before the door closed she called after him "You need me too!"

Sighing, Kenneth-- no, he reminded himself, he couldn't be 'Kenneth' on the road.  Kenneth was a shop keep; the werewolf adventurer was Branson Firepaw.  Stepping away from his cottage, he spoke quietly back toward the door "I'm not who you think I am... and I fear I am beyond help."