Elliott spent much of that night lying awake, their stomach forming knots as they stared off somewhere beyond the ceiling, recalling Puck’s departure. If they had previously been worried about him, they were now perturbed, uneasy, disquieted, and approaching overwrought. In short, they Had Some Concerns™.

Filled with a dreadful energy, and not having received any further word from CPS, they briefly reconsidered involving the police, but in the end they couldn’t bring themself to do it.  Instead they packed a backpack with blankets and, as an afterthought, a sandwich to take to the park with them the next night. It wasn’t much, but they felt they had to do something.

Puck wasn’t in the usual spot. Elliott sat and waited for the better part of an hour, but even dressed in warm layers (for they had all but abandoned running as they attempted to sort out what to do about Puck) they soon grew cold. Thinking sadly of the boy shivering somewhere alone, in only his hoodie, they deposited the blankets and sandwich in a neat pile under the tree where they usually burned candles and incense. 

“Puck?” They called. “If you’re out here, I hope you know I’m here for you. I’m leaving you some things under this tree…” here they paused hopefully. When no response came the added, “Things might seem hopeless now, but they can still get better. Don’t be afraid to ask for help!” 

There was still no answer. Elliott shoved their icy hands into their pockets and began the walk home, their shoulders hunching from the weight of Puck’s absence more than the cold.

***

Elliott returned to the hill the following night, half expecting to find an uneaten sandwich and sodden pile of blankets there, but to their surprise and delight, Puck was waiting for them.

“Hey,” the boy greeted them with a sheepish grin. 

“Hey, did you find the stuff I left?” Elliott asked.

“Yeah, thanks. The sandwich was good,” he admitted. 

“Good. I brought you another.”

“You did?” The kid’s eyes lit up. 

“And some chips,” Elliott told him, taking off the backpack they’d brought and extracting the snacks. For the amount of joy this seemed to bring Puck you might think Elliott had given him a puppy.  

When Elliott pulled out a new packet of incense and a box of birthday candles they’d picked up, Puck’s eyes went round with delight and he let out a soft gasp. “You didn’t have to do all this…” he said. 

“I know. I wanted to,” Elliott told him, trying their best not to laugh as the streetwise teen softened looking at the humble selection of gifts. “Shall we?” they asked.

Puck nodded, and together they lit their tiny candles and incense under the usual tree, sticking the bases into the rain-softened earth to keep them upright. Elliott allowed their mind to wander for a few minutes as he watched the smoke curl lazily into the air. After a while a memory from one of their first conversations with Puck surfaced in their mind.

“You said your family used to practice their religion here, right?” they asked, hoping to learn more about the teen’s family.

“Yeah,” Puck agreed, shifting uncomfortably.

“Would you mind telling me about it?” 

“Oh… well, I don’t really know much, but I can try.”

“Sure, I’d love to know whatever you can tell me,” they encouraged.

“Well, there are a bunch of different gods… I don’t even know how many. There are different gods for like every force of nature, and some are more like concepts.”

“Hmm,” Elliott intoned, thinking. “Kind of like Greek mythology?”

“Yeah, similar. In my family’s religion the oldest god, who created everything else, is the god of chaos.”

“Interesting… What are some of the others?”

“There are the big ones like life, death, the sun, time, the earth itself…” Puck trailed off for a moment with a distant look on his face before abruptly continuing. “And then there are lesser ones, like the gods of dreams, or knowledge, or lost items. If you can think of it, there’s probably a god for it.”

“Is there a god of smartphones?” Elliott asked with a grin.

“Probably not, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a god responsible for them who could claim them. The god of science, maybe. Or, if nothing else, chaos,” the boy answered gravely. 

“Chaos made smartphones?”

“Yeah, indirectly. Chaos made everything, remember? Some things just take longer than others,” Puck explained in a patient tone. “Cause and effect, you know?”

“I see…” said Elliott. “What country did you say your family came here from?”

“Oh… it doesn’t exist anymore.” Something about this statement felt so final that Elliott didn’t dare ask anything more about it.

“Does anyone else in your family still follow your ancestor’s religion?” they tried instead. The kid’s eyes now seemed to have fastened themselves to the ground. He shrugged. Elliott decided they’d pushed enough for the time being and allowed the conversation to die away in the crisp night air. 

Elliott’s eyes wandered out over the twinkling lights of the town as they waited for the candles to burn out. How long ago had Puck’s family arrived here, they wondered. Had they really sat on this very hilltop, worshipping their pantheon, and had there been a town for them to look out over? Elliott wasn’t sure they believed the story, and yet the kid seemed perfectly sincere. 

“So…” they finally asked, this time purely out of curiosity, “Who are we lighting incense for? Your ancestors, or their gods?”

Puck turned to him, eyes twinkling. “For the chaos god, of course.” His gaze drifted back out over the town again before he added, “That, and the age-old tradition of playing with fire.” 

Elliott laughed. “Of course, there’s always that.” 

Soon the candles burned down, leaving colorful little puddles of wax in the dirt. Elliott was beginning to shiver. Puck didn’t seem to have noticed the cold, somehow. 

“It might freeze over tonight,” Elliott told him. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You can always sleep on my couch, if you need a place to go,” they offered. 

“Thanks,” said Puck. 

“I mean it.”

“I believe you.”

“So how about it?” they asked, finally cutting to the chase.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine.”

Elliott was dismayed, but not surprised. “But you’ll freeze,” they groaned in exasperation. 

“I have ways of staying warm,” was Puck’s nonchalant answer.

“You know where I live, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You come over if you get too cold, okay? Or if anybody gives you trouble. Or if you need anything.” Elliott was considering adding another clause when the kid interrupted.

“Okay, fine,” he agreed. 

“You know how to use the callbox?”

“I’m sure I can figure it out,” he said with the caliber of eye roll only a teen could hope to attain. 

“Alright,” said Elliott. They stood up, brushing the dirt off of their pants and putting their backpack back on. “Be careful out here.”

“Thanks, Elliott. Go home,” said Puck with mock irritation. 

Elliott went home.