"Careful! He's having another seizure!" One of the customers said, jumping over his bench and table.
"Must be the cold, how fool you have to be to come here so lightly covered!"
People in the inn strapped the boy with everything they had at hand, one used his belt, another, a tall man, took off his long-sleeve vest and made a makeshift straitjacket. They wanted to avoid people getting hurt or prevent any object being broken.
Oswald was still daydreaming. He was terrified of everything unfolding before his eyes, everything the beast was doing.
He felt this hanging jaw reattaching. The skin around his mouth sewing itself back in seconds and his gapping wounds closing fiber after fiber.
His new teeth emerged from his gum and all the blood that circulated in his lungs and stomach was thrown in a torrent of red fluids.
In the inn, Oswald clenched his jaw and white foam exited the sides of his mouth. His eyes glazed over as the muscles of his body tensed up to a shaking state.
He saw the blood that gushed out turn into boiling matter and evaporate, leaving only a stain behind. Next, his body moved by itself, it left the barn while the red light of the two eyeballs illuminated the whole room. Oswald was back to the little inn at the center of the village, the local doctor sat in front of him.
The glass of wine that triggered his flashback was shattered and its content was spilled on the floor, seeping through the planks, the boy understood it probably reached the basement.
"I don't think it's because of the cold, you may have health issues. You should come to my office, I'll examine you."
Oswald knew the man who spoke, he could remember his face from when he was younger. His mother brought him to the doctor for advices many times in the past. He asked. "Am I fine?" Which was a double edged question for him.
"Your pupils are back to the normal size, they were two tiny dots an instant ago, which is why you couldn't see properly. As for your muscles, you can lift your arms above your head, right? Yes, you're doing fine."
While convulsing, his energy had been depleted, he was dead tired, he gave an excuse for his strange comportment. "I don't have a consistent sleep pattern, I'm completely off those days, I'm training, I've been learning how to hunt lately." He said, pointing at the rabbit skins he brought.
The inn's owner was in the main room too. She was a woman in her mid forties. Few grey hairs were entangled in a round bun at the top of her head. She wore a low cut dress that revealed a bony ribcage. In comparison to Meryl, she was skinny.
"Little Bendis, you can stay for the night. There's no use risking your life against the rising snowstorm."
Now that she said so, Oswald noticed the whistling wind around the house. The snowflakes were too many to be muffled down and a thin layer covered the paved road.
"Stop calling me that. I'm Oswald, not the offspring of an absent father. I won't stay, my mother is pregnant and bedridden, I have to go back before she decides to go and get me. I'm fine really, don't bother madam."
He went to the market, the stands closed one by one, the tissue supposed to protect them from the weather threatened to collapse under the weight of the snow.
'Nonsense. Nonsense...' He thought to hush his worries.
He wanted to buy a knife and chose one with a slight curve instead under the seller's advice, he bought an axe. Even as a beginner hunter, he needed to be able to defend himself. Against a predator, he wouldn't stand a chance.
He was proposed a bow and arrows, but he was short on money. Instead he bought a large bag of wheat and a living hen.
The coat he wore caught a lot of humidity, at the end of it, few stalactites of ice formed. On his way back, he looked ridiculous, the hen was kept under his coat to keep it away from the harsh temperatures. The wheat bag weighed twenty kilograms, but it felt less heavy than it was to the boy.
He arrived in the late afternoon, his favourite moment of the day. He saw the old axe sunk into a log, ready for work, but it was blunt and rusty, the new one's manufacture was way better, he was satisfied with his purchases.
He was exhausted. His mind was worn out due to the stress related to his memories.
"I'm back." He announced.
Meryl cooked dinner, she did not like the new animal they had to take care of. She could make fresh bread and more, but they had to build a new shelter for the hen. "Why did you bring it? We have plenty of meat now that you hunt, plus you'll have to clean its cage once per week now, birds stink too you know?" She said with a bit of spite.
"Today's time outside is over, the hen will sleep with us. Her name is Cluck." He said, gently caressing her pure white feathers. The softness of the animal and its calm behaviour acted like a relief pillow.
Oswald could smell the pungent stench of his goats, it was as strong as if there was one in the house, he saw his mother's clothes, she was as dirty as he should've been, meaning she had worked with the animals.
For the remaining time of the day, because he was forced to stay in the house. Meryl's dishevelled hair let her boy doubt about her daily activities.
"What did you do when I was away, mother?" It sounded reproachful.
"I waited for your father to return, as I do every day!" She grumbled. She metal brush she had in hand had a strong smell too, the little scent that tingled Oswald's nose was hard to ignore.
Because of same day's event, he wanted to understand why he had fainted in the first place.
Late in the night, he slipped out his bedsheets and went downstairs. There in the middle of the living room, his eyes had a golden glow, they reflected the little light that entered the room.
He couldn't stop himself from sniffing around. He came to an halt next to the entrance, there he glared at the planks.
"It all seeps through." He whispered.