Moss had a bad night.

Aside from the general hopelessness of searching for the damn kid most of the night, he’d been unable to shake a strange sense of dread that overtook him. It wasn’t even specifically related to the kid. Just a generalized dread.

He honestly hadn’t felt anything this awful since tea-time with a demon lord. The overwhelming aura that something was wrong and things were about to become so much worse. This feeling wasn’t the same. Not by a long shot. If it was, he’d have been looking around for when his uncle arrived and perhaps making an excuse to run away, but it was similar enough that he was struck by the nasty comparison at all. Which was quite a feat.

Whatever lurked in the darkness around this village, it was malevolent and terrifying. Theoretically the perfect opponent for a would-be adventurer but the only problem with that was that Moss wasn’t suicidal. No one in their right state of mind would challenge something with an aura like that and hope to win. The hunt for the missing Astor was the only reason that he didn’t leave the village immediately and never look back.

He was bright enough not to challenge such an entity to a fight but he wasn’t enough of a scumbag to leave a child to fend for himself on a night like this. That, in a nutshell, was the perfect description of Moss’s flawed and hypocritical morality. He was unwilling to stick his neck out for the greater good but unable to turn a blind eye to injustice in front of him. A cowardly morality that so rarely saved anyone.

It was dawn when Moss rested his back against a tree and closed his eyes, about ready to accept that damn kid might just be a lost cause. He needed a drink. He actually needed several drinks. All nighters were always a lot less intolerable with a significant amount of alcohol lifting his spirits.

He wasn’t an alcoholic or anything. No. He just relied on alcohol to get through most things. And found himself feeling off whenever he didn’t have it. And also used to bury all sorts of unpleasant thoughts and emotions that he would much rather forget or ignore. He wasn’t an alcoholic. He was an idiot. And probably an alcoholic.

“...what are you doing?”

Moss’s eyes snapped open as he looked down at the scraggly sight of the damn kid he’d stayed up all night looking for. In a truly annoying way that only children could master, Astor was looking at him like he was the troublemaker.

“Where’d you go?” Moss asked, tone sharper than intended with the agitation that had piled up due to his long and terrible night.

Astor looked so legitimately surprised by the question that he felt bad for asking. The child looked towards the forest and back to him with a hand caught in the cookie jar posture and a confused frown. “I told you that I had to go. You shouldn’t have looked for me.”

“What irresponsible maniac wouldn’t look for a kid that randomly disappears in the middle of the night?!” Moss asked in exasperation, running a hand through his hair. A part of him was done with this whole thing. He hadn’t wanted to come here to begin with, he’d just needed a place to rest, and now there was a murder and this kid and that entity from last night. It seemed like the best time for a man without a death wish to leave town and quickly.

Astor’s queer expression didn’t change as she watched Moss, the concept of someone looking especially all night was bizarre. Crazy. This man was clearly crazy.

No one looked for her. No one missed her. It was a shame she hadn’t gotten some of the mushroom soup that he’d prepared but that was supposed to be as deep as it went. A failure to consume the promised soup.

It was now day three without food though and Astor was getting really hungry.

“...is there any more soup?”

Moss sighed heavily and looked down at the twerp. A troublemaker. No explanation. That shameless face. Clearly the brat didn’t intend to apologize or explain anything. He really ought to tell him to buzz off.

Moss held out a hand for Astor to hold. “C’mon. I’ll go warm it up.” He said with a grumble, intent on leading them back to his humble camp.

Astor stared at his hand hesitantly for a moment before accepting it. His hand was large and calloused. Astor’s tiny fingers tested the skin delicately, wondering privately if all hands felt like this.

She’d never held someone’s hand before.

Ignoring how the weird kid insisted on holding his hand in the most awkward way possible, Moss guided them back to the forgotten soup. With a grumble about how it doesn’t taste as good the next day, Moss went about adding a few more spices to pep up the flavor and starting up his campfire again. Astor watched this all with a growing sense of curiosity.

Moss wasn’t like the other types of people she’d met before. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it but he was just different. Dumb. Far too talkative. Definitely crazy. And just… different.

A slow smile took over her face and she looked down to her feet to hide it.

“Here.”

She blinked at the proffered bowl, staring down at the unfamiliar soup inside. She glanced up to see Moss’s confident smirk.

“It’s not as good as it would have been fresh but it’s still amazing soup.” He had all the confidence and arrogance in the world. It caused her to giggle despite herself.

He was stupid and silly and that was just a touch endearing.

Moss watched in surprise as the normally dour looking child laughed and took the soup, an uncharacteristically sweet smile on his dirty face. Moss’s face pinched at the sight. He’d need to introduce this kid to the concept of a bath.

Astor took a spoonful and froze.

“Well? Isn’t it good?” Moss bragged, a huge grin on his face.

To his surprise, Astor nodded enthusiastically, eyes lit up with happiness as the child shoveled in more spoonfuls of the soup hungrily.

Damn. When was the last time this kid ate?

Astor held out the empty bowl, having practically inhaled the contents. “More!” She flushed suddenly remembering her manners. “Please! It’s good!”

Moss smiled to himself as he served more soup into the waiting bowl and watched the kid eat it. He ate his own portion at a more sedate rate. It was good but certainly not as heavenly as Astor made it seem.

It really begged the question what sort of things the kid had been eating up until now. Moss didn’t like to imagine it.

Still, it was nice to see the kid looking so happy for once. Really, the key to happiness was found inside of a good meal. Moss stood up and stretched his arms out over his head. He ought to find a place to lie down for the day but he wanted to check something in the forest first. He might even ask Astor to come as a guide. Who knew what trouble the kid would get into without his guidance.

Moss froze.

“...Astor?”

“Mm?” Astor looked up from the soup, a mushroom dangling from his lips.

“...isn’t the forest… bigger?”

Astor’s soup bowl clattered to the ground.

Perhaps it would be all too merciful if Moss’s observation was an exaggeration of the truth. In truth, he undersold it. In fact, he really must have been sleep deprived to have only just noticed.

In the early dawn air, the village woke up in a panic.

The forest changed in the night.