Creeping Loneliness
Chapter 1 of Scarecrows and White Wolves Prologue | AO3 | FFN
Words: 1.306 Pairings/Warnings: Gen / None for this chapter Tagging: @underscoreasta @fluffymoe @itslulu42 @shiranuigenma
Wind buffeted against the warped wooden door, sending the hut into a fit of creaks and groans. Windows rattled in their sills and a gust of air blew down the chimney of the wood stove, sending a plume of black smoke and red-hot ashes into the air. Sakumo hurriedly whipped his wand - a crooked twig of a magical object - into the air and gathered up all the coals, ushering them back into the fireplace as if they were small animals being herded into a corral. The logs crackled in the fire and spat out at him again, like a defiant child sticking its tongue out. Sakumo pointed his wand at the fireplace and the flames died down, leaving little more than a pile of logs glowing orange in the dark.
It was a rather chilly autumn night and most of his familiars - the family of dogs he had gathered over the years - were sleeping in a pile against the wall, each one wanting to be closest (but not too close) to the fireplace to keep warm. Despite all his efforts and magical prowess, Sakumo had a hard time keeping the little hut warm in the autumn; though it did keep itself insulted quite well during the winter, which seemed strange.
Something about the season between the vibrant green of summer and the stark dead of winter made Sakumo a bit nostalgic and a bit absentminded. Perhaps it was the leaves changing color, reminding him of the fleetingness of life. Or perhaps it was the farmers out in their fields, tilling the land and harvesting their crops to feed their families and the village. Or maybe it was something else.
In any case, his absentmindedness meant that he did not focus all of his magic into the wooden beams of the ceiling or the joints of the smooth walls or the planes of the uneven floor, allowing lots of heat to escape into the cold evening air between the months of September and November. But once the first frost came around, as it always faithfully did like a dog returning to its master, Sakumo’s mind was sharp once again and he flooded the cabin with his warm, silver energy that leaked out of his fingers and dribbled to the floor, worming over the woven rugs and around the legs of his chairs, sealing up any hole or crack to keep in the heat. The dogs never complained that they were cold, and they never demanded much of the old wizard. All they simply wanted was to be near him and for their bellies to be rubbed after a long day of hunting mice and chasing off crows. Sakumo was more than happy to supply the dogs with these simple things and would spend long evenings sitting in his chair as the dogs crowded around his knees, lapping at his hands lovingly and pawing at him to gain his attention.
Tonight, with the wind chill and the cooling embers of the fire glaring back at him from their metal prison, Sakumo had to wrap a patchwork quilt over his robes to keep warm. When he went to bed tonight in the straw mattress lying across the rickety metal frame, pushed into the farthest corner of the tiny bedroom, the dogs would follow and lay all around him like a living, breathing cocoon. But until then, he was cold.
Sitting in his chair in front of the fireplace, Sakumo pulled his hat from his head and laid it on the ground beside him. He stared into the bright red light and stuck out one hand, urging heat to flood his body - though the fire spitefully refused to obey him.
“Don’t be like that,” he said softly, his voice weary but kind. “I didn’t mean it. You have the right to blaze as you want - you are a fire after all, but you must be careful when you’re in a wooden house. You can burn it down, you know. And then where would I live? Where would you live? It rains an awful lot in the fall. You’d be put out quite quickly.”
A few slender flames danced about the logs, as if watching Sakumo cautiously. He smiled gently and motioned for it to grow larger.
“Don’t be shy. One of these days I promise I’ll let you out and you can burn as bright and as large as you want. I promise.”
At that, the fire roared up again, the logs crackling and sap popping joyously. Sakumo laughed quietly, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
“See? It’s not so bad here. And you know I always keep my promises.”
One of the dogs - Akino - stretched and yawned, wriggling closer to the warmth of the fire, trying not to draw the attention of his companions. Bull snorted and shouldered him out of the way, lying in front of the fireplace with a solid thud that disturbed the others. Soon they all gathered around him, finding a comfortable place close enough (but not too close) to the burning logs. Sakumo hummed and dropped his blanket from his shoulders.
“Tomorrow we have to see about foraging,” he said, closing his eyes in a moment of true weariness. “We should stock up before it’s too late and everything’s gone. We have one, maybe two, more good weeks of this weather and then the frost will come, and that means winter.”
A few of the dogs huffed in response and rolled over to face him. The smallest, Bisuke, trotted over and sat at his feet, leaning his head against the man’s leg. Sakumo leaned down to scratch the dog’s head, his eyes still closed.
“Tomorrow then. I have a list of items I need, and there are a few more things we should pick up for some of the villagers. I know that they can’t make the trek into the forest; it’s too dangerous. Are you alright going with me?”
All of the dogs let out soft grunts as a positive response and Sakumo slowly stood from the chair, reaching to unbutton his cloak.
“Thank you,” he said gently, shrugging off the robe and scooping down to pick up his hat and the quilt. He strode over to the front door and hung the cloak and hat on the coat rack mounted to the wall, making sure that the door was locked and the window was closed. “We should be off to bed, then. We have to get up early tomorrow. Thank you, Kasai-san. You may burn at your own desire now.”
The fire turned red, as if blushing, and flared up mightily in its tiny stove before settling into a soft row of flames. Sakumo made his way into the bedroom and soon the sounds of seven dogs’ paws scratching on the wooden floor echoed in the hut as they followed him. He sat down on the edge of the lumpy bed, giving a tired smile to the group of dogs and nodding at them.
“Tomorrow,” he said softly, his eyes already closing to find sleep. “Tomorrow.” He laid down on the bed, pulling the threadbare quilt over himself and waiting patiently for each of the dogs to leap onto the bed, pace along the length of the bed until they found a suitable sleeping position, and then curl up against him. The heat of over half a dozen dogs radiated against him, sending more warmth through his heart than anything else had before. Still, that stinging loneliness of the dying autumn nestled inside his chest like a thistle, hurting no matter which way he turned or how shallowly he breathed. It was there, under his ribs, aching, reminding him of something he wasn’t sure he ever knew in the first place. That something was missing - he just couldn’t place what.