Next to the glimmering ambers, Simon chose to give Oswald his hand. He had always been a good person, his reputation was bad only because of his alcoholic behaviour.
A treasure could lose a man's mind, but a great loss could break it apart. Thus, because of the war, Simon had lost his precious sons. His torment started years ago, when nothing but alcohol could soothe his sorrow.
Yet, one person came to him, because of Oswald's aggressive behavior and presence, he had his mind occupied for a few minutes, more than enough to lift his mind from constant sadness.
"Don't let it eat you from the inside." Simon whispered. With the warmth of the flame, he could barely stand still, his nightshirt almost caught fire, but he endured it nonetheless.
'I can force him to shut up. There's always a solution.' Oswald couldn't help but think, until he fell asleep.
In the morning, a warm breakfast was prepared next to him. Few eggs and lukewarm milk.
The first thing Oswald checked was the shape of his nails, then came the length of his tail. Everything was back to normal. Sunlight pierced through the thin walls, allowing him to distinguish every objects in the room. The voices of the villagers in the morning market echoed in the alleys.
In the tannery, nothing but Simon's snorting could be heard, the man was asleep on a bench.
Oswald's clothes had lots of broken stretches, few places were ripped and his shoes were missing. He came to wake the man up, his mind was clear, there was no missing part of his past day. He thought, looking at the sleeping man, a few centimeters away from his face.
'He is so calm, so quiet. How come I wanted to force him again? Simon could call the nobles, he could've attached me, I can't believe he did nothing such. I'm pretty sure I'm worth my weigh in gold as a freak-whatever.'
Still, did he had to wake the man? Yes, because he was thankful.
With a gentle push, he was ready to catch the man sitting halfway in the air, his stool was about to fall. As expected, the jump he had when waking up almost costed him an eye.
Oswald's grip kept the man above one of his sharpest tools, striking the man's heart like a wisp.
"Put me down!" He shouted, his arms generating great wind with their fast movements.
With a serious tone and proper clothes he borrowed from a nearby chest, Oswald said. "I'll thank you later for everything you've done for me. I have plenty to do for now, but keep in mind I'm indebted to your kindness."
The boy exited the house and ventured in the market. Everyone around talked about the same thing.
"Did you hear it? The king of the woods! He roared last night!" A woman said to another.
"It was nothing but a wolf with a sore throat!"
"I was closer to it! It was so loud it agitated my hens." A man said.
A fish merchant with an empty stand spoke. "It scarred everything I may have caught tonight. Nothing bit to the hook this morning, the river is empty." He had dried fish left, hanging next to him, nothing fresh.
On the miller's stool, the merchant bragged about it too. "I heard it twice! Few minutes apart, the roar made me and my wife shake in our panties. Gladly he had another spare pair."
Kids, talking to each other. "I was scared that maybe the wolves would attack the village anew! Aunt Emilia has yet to heal from her injuries."
Oswald couldn't help but feel guilty, even though there was no wolf attack, no one to worry about except the person he just remembered about.
'Tom! Oh my! I totally forgot about him! Can I visit Tom? I can't go to the healer out of the blue, it'll be insane to know where he is right now. I must mind my own business until I'm invited to see him again, or he comes to the barn. Unless...' He thought.
He went to lady Emilia's inn, to pay her a visit and delay his arrival at Tom's house.
The woman held an ice stalactite to her forehead. "I was afraid it'd happen again! My leg is still paining me, I can't afford losing the other one." She complained. Nothing happened to her that night, her diminished hearing barely let her hear the night howl, she was overacting.
Somehow, she was pleased to have a man as heavily built as Oswald at hand. She hadn't the courage to kick Simon out when she should've, neither when other drunkard stayed overnight at the inn, it was bad for her business. However when he was here, a little taller than the average villager, she felt strong, safe.
Her husband, a shoemaker in his late thirties, had a crooked back and not much facial hair, his authority was known to be equal to that of a pebble. The man often bowed down to say the simplest casualties, adding salt to the injury for Emilia.
It was nearly midday when Oswald departed for Tom's house. It was a three-story house with a towering roof. On the entrance door, a huge rose carved with plenty of details to its thorns.
Behind the house, a carriage with two horses attached next to it. Once sure there were people inside the huge dwelling, he rung the bell hanging next to the door.
He heard light but loud footstep behind the door, probably clogs.
A round woman in a dress, with a white cloth on her head that kept her hair tight opened the door. She seemed disappointed of the person on the porch.
"What is it?" She asked with a rough voice, not welcoming at all. Her unpleasant first impression was in par with her beauty. Still Oswald shown his best smile.
"I am looking for Tom, he hasn't shown up this morning. I'm worried. The name's Oswald, nice to meet you.. milady Rose I presume?" Said Oswald, reaching his hand out to properly introduce himself.
Realising who she was talking to, the friend of her young master, the woman bowed down in apology.
She then pinched her robe and said. "Milady Rose is away for an important affair, as for Sir Florentino, he's with his son at the healer's house. I am the maid here, would you like me to accompany you?"