"He protects us. When we need help, he gives it. He's stronger than we are, so he's able to fight for us if needed," Crane said.

"If we needed a new home, he helps us find one. Or if someone needs protection, like if the church is trying to find them, he helps keep them safe and hidden," Lughes added. As he spoke, I noticed the way he smiled. It was a genuinely warm smile, full of happy memories. He wasn't speaking about people or scenarios long forgotten, but something he himself remembered. Maybe his own past.

The smile looked a little weird on him, since his beard was so woolly, but... he was obviously prideful. And happy to be so.

It was... odd to see, but it made sense.

Only a sheep could take so much pride in being protected.

"Do you have a painting of him?" I asked.

The three went silent, and then looked at one another. Even Amber, who gently put down the cookie she had been about to eat had gone quiet.

"Hm?" I wondered if I had asked something bad. Were they not painting me, the same way they painted others they met? For the same reasons? So that all throughout the years, we'd not be forgotten, not truly?

"Well... actually..." Lughes perpetually aloof demeanor became rife with worry.

"He destroys them," Amber said flatly.

She nodded as I looked at her. "If he sees any drawings or paintings of him, he burns or rips them up. He's very rude," she confirmed.

Rude, I noted. She spoke from experience. Maybe this was why she hated him. Or at least, why others thought she did.

"I see," I said, and decided to let it be.

Amber sighed, and then glanced at the two others at the table. "But... if you promise to keep it a secret," she then said.

"Oh?" I grew excited. She had a new smile on her face. One I'd never seen before.

That was the face of a mischievous child. The kind that did exactly what they were told not to.

Amber nodded, and stood. "I'll be right back," she said hurriedly.

The young woman hurried out of the room, and I heard her light footsteps as she climbed the stairs.

"So she has one, does she?" I asked, amused.

"Seems so. He really is adamant about not painting him, but I should have figured she'd have a few of him... if anything just to spite him," Crane said with a small laugh.

The three of us smiled at each other, and the moment filled my heart with joy.

How I loved this. How I longed for this.

Maybe a few more moments like this, and I'd forget the many horrible moments that have recently plagued my dreams.

"Still, I am sorry Renn. For not telling you earlier," Lughes apologized after a moment.

"It's fine. We have a lot of time, after all," I said.

"We do. Amber does not though, and you should stop forgetting that Lughes," Crane said with a warning.

The beard bobbed a little as he nodded gently.

"Is this society large? Are there enough of us... to last the years?" I asked.

"Almost enough. There are a little under a thousand, as far as I'm aware. Vim knows more. There are many who refuse to formally join the society so although they're a part of it, they're not known by others," Lughes said.

"Ah... that's why you asked if I was sent here, for a painting," I said.

He nodded. "Many of our older brethren come here, before their end, so that they can be remembered... one way or another," Lughes said gently.

It was a little sad to hear, but I had expected it. After all... what other point was there to such paintings?

Yet... I wonder if that meant that I had looked like that to him. When we met.

Had I looked like someone about to die? Or at least, someone who had accepted that fact?

"And it is not easy. The paints are hard to make. The paper even harder. So we need to make money to be able to afford it. Then we also need to keep trained artists nearby, in case we need them... It's always so hectic," Crane said with a huff, as if she hated how much effort it took.

"Thus the store," I said, understanding.

Lughes nodded. "Still, it is fun is it not? There's always something to do. Always another scene to paint. Always another brushstroke," Lughes said happily.

I agreed, but wondered if that was all it was. It was... a great purpose. A phenomenal lifestyle... but...

"Thank you. Both of you. For letting me in," I said to them gently.

The two silently smiled at me, but said nothing. After all, nothing else needed to be said.

"Remember, don't tell Vim I have these!" Amber came back, carrying several large papers.

"I won't," I promised, and watched with interest as she laid them upon the table. Crane had to move the few plates of cookies as she did, since she had practically dropped them.

Amber turned around the top sheet, which was a rather large drawing. It was done with a single color, and rather... rough. As if done hastily.

Studying the art, I watched as Lughes and Crane both grabbed other drawings, to study them themselves.

Most looked to be simple, but there were a few that were actually very detailed. Very well done. She was obviously a great artist, and it showed... even the most basic scene was...

Painted in dull colors, was the scene of a man sitting at what looked to be a windowsill. He was relaxed, and staring out the window at something. Only parts of the window, and the wall around it, were drawn... but the scene was obvious. He looked calm, and for all the world looked half asleep.

Another drawing, which was a little smaller, was similar. He was reading a book, lazily reading on a chair.

From sitting, to eating, to even shaving... her drawings all seemed to have a similar theme. The kind of theme that made it a little too obvious.

Was she infatuated with him? Maybe their earlier antics had been just that, simple teasing.

"Your tastes are obvious, Amber," Lughes said with a chuckle.

"I don't like painting him doing bad things! He looks ugly when he fights," Amber though didn't seem that embarrassed. If anything she seemed a little too calm.

Oh? Maybe she wasn't infatuated. Maybe this was just her method. Her taste in drawing rather than men.

Amber dug through some of the papers, and found what she was looking for. Pulling it out and placing it on top for all to see, I found the first heavily detailed scene I've seen of him.

It was a rather dark picture. Most of the drawing had been done in black paint, amidst darker grays and browns... and the bottom half of the painting was almost a solid color. Not because it was just a foundation, or border for another painting, but because of the things painted.

Corpses.

Carcasses. Of humans and beasts alike. They were mangled, and there were oddly graphic parts to the painting. They type that told me that she had most likely seen this scene herself. Most likely as it had happened. And it had left a lasting impression.

Standing on top of the pile of mangled bodies, was a smiling man. He bore a wicked smile, that somehow made my stomach churn.

It was the same man from all the other paintings, but there was something different about him. He wasn't drawn better, or worse, but...

"I remember this. Is that how he looked to you then? Fascinating," Lughes though didn't seem bothered at all about the scene, as we all studied it.

Going off this painting alone, I would have not questioned their earlier assessment of her feelings for him.

This looked like a haunting nightmare. This scene had bothered the painter, to the point they had to draw it... at least, that's what I felt upon looking at it.

However... as cruel and wicked his smile were... as graphic and detailed as the mangled mess that piled beneath him, I didn't really see a man that was terrifying.

He didn't look nice, at least not in this painting, but he didn't look as scary as some of the monsters he stood upon.

"So... his name is Vim?" I asked.

"Some just call him the protector. But that's kind of silly," Crane said.

"He... looks normal? Unless you chose to not draw his non-human characteristics," I said, but found that a little silly. After all, she had also painted the very beasts beneath him.

"He does. As far as I'm aware he looks perfectly human," Crane said.

Human indeed. He looked average. The kind of average that if I had passed him on the road, I'd never have noticed him. He could be just one of many.

"Then what is he?" I asked. Although some of us could look very human, I knew there was always something somewhere that was different. Like my ears and tail. Lughes' eyes and beard. Crane's odd neck, and the feathers beneath her clothes.

"No one knows," Lughes said plainly.

"What?" I asked, and wondered if they had forgotten, or maybe they had simply not ever cared to find out.

"They don't, Renn. Or at least, if they do it's the only secret in the whole world they can keep from me. They genuinely don't know, no one does," Amber said, sitting down. As she sat she rummaged through her paintings to look at them. To study them with a judgmental eye. As if they weren't even hers.

I frowned at them, and wondered how that was possible.

"Really. We don't. As far as I'm aware no one does. He's never told anyone, and no one's ever found out," Lughes said with a sigh.

"There are a lot of assumptions. Even bets, between some of us. But we really don't know," Crane said, adding her testimony.

"Huh... doesn't that seem a little odd?" I asked.

"Is it?" Crane asked.

"It is! But they don't think it's weird. All they know is he's a predator and they're happy enough knowing that," Amber complained.

Well... I wasn't.

Staring at one of the drawings... one where he was smiling at something, in the distance. Staring at something which he must have found precious. Maybe even a friend. He looked like how Nory had on occasion, when she looked at me.

I could tell they were telling the truth, if anything thanks to Amber's annoyance... but it bothered me.

They seemed to trust him. Called him their protector.

Yet didn't know what he was.

Did that mean he didn't trust them?

How was that possible?

"Can I keep this one, Amber?" Lughes asked.

"No! He'll found out, because you can't keep secrets, then he'll come find these ones," Amber stood, grabbing the thin paper from Lughes hand.

Lughes frowned, hurt a little, but said nothing. I could tell though, what he was actually thinking.

He'd get it later, once she was gone. Even if it took many years.

Running my fingers along one of the paintings, I smiled at the man.

She might hate him. She might love him. She might be scared of him...

But he was still someone she could paint so carefully. Draw so preciously.

Which told me more than enough that he was worth meeting.

"I look forward to meeting him," I said.

"Hm. Me too. He owes me a coat," Amber said with a nod.

"Oh? Tell more," I said, enjoying the constant happy surprises.

A happy home. Full of friends, if not family in their own way.

A neat society. Of my own people.

And a protector?

What more could I ask for?