H made sure to properly close the door to the stable, humming a goodbye as he moved away and towards the driveway. At first, he was surprised that he couldn’t see the children right away, before he caught sight of three figures moving near the sidewalk. The taller of the three was momentarily worrying, though the Hessian quickly recognized the greenish, bulky coat, as well as the black wings poking from the back.

            He must’ve been completely lost in thought; he hadn’t even noticed Moth leave. Though it would be good to have an extra set of eyes looking, so he merely walked over with a wave when he was noticed. Harriet and Brian brightened right away, before going back to searching, though it didn’t escape the Horseman’s notice that even with Moth’s wave and happily flicking tufts, there was definitely a bit of a shadow in the cryptid’s face.

            Did you find anything?

            “No, not yet.” Moth answered, as he’d been the one looking in H’s direction when he’d signed. Harriet and Brian both looked away from their search, drawn in by the sound.

            “Yeah, haven’t seen your phone, or a keychain.” Brian spoke up, Harriet jumping in on his heels.

            “What kind of a keychain?”

            It looks like a sunflower; I know you said you liked them. H signed, Harriet giving a small, surprised smile at her uncle’s thoughtfulness. Though, as her gaze turned back to the driveway, the Horseman could readily read that there had been no luck in finding any such item yet.

            Never mind his phone, though a part of him felt more exasperated by that than anything. Clapping his hands, the Hessian drew the others’ attention back over to him, signing out his thoughts.

            I believe I would’ve come from the church, so perhaps we could walk through the neighborhood and check there?

            “Are you feeling well enough for that?” Moth spoke up, red eyes worriedly furrowed as he looked the headless Hessian’s body up and down. Feeling a strange mix of exasperation and fondness, H signed a reply.

            Yes, I’m fine. Most of the ache is gone anyway, moving around seems like the best medicine for now. Crossing the few feet it took, the Horseman threw an arm around the Mothman’s shoulders, making sure to avoid the cryptid’s wings. Jerking a thumb in the direction of the road, H managed to make a noise that was somewhat similar to a whistle. He didn’t like it much, it tended to strain something in his throat, but it got the point across.

            Ordinarily you would have to go down the street, leading out into the town proper, though the Hessian was a bit more used to riding around the hill bordering their neighborhood and through the woods. It might’ve cut through a few properties, but it was ultimately faster and admittedly H was hardly sticking around. If Jaeger was doing the journey of his own accord, he would’ve gone that way.

            But it was an easy enough walk, and for two young, rambunctious kids it was a perfect way for them to burn off some energy. And it also gave H a moment to address things with Moth, at least in a partially effective way.

            Though he did at least try to keep up with the pretense of looking for the items, though really Harriet and Brian were doing most of the work. Moth seemed too distracted by everything going on, and, well, H was equally distracted. He had the feeling they weren’t going to find his things. He wasn’t sure why he felt this way, perhaps he was a bit too wed to the idea that the items had been stolen rather than lost, though it was also drawing his attention to the somewhat woebegone look Moth was wearing like a weight hanging around his neck. He had also hastened to draw up his hood, leaving only his red eyes as a sign of what was going through his mind.

            Waving his hand a bit in the cryptid’s field of view, H still felt a quick, internal wince at how the movement still made Moth jump like a spooked horse.

            “Huh—yeah?” The cryptid asked, Southern accent softly twanging as he jerked to look in the Horseman’s direction. The more frantic energy was something that H did his best to mollify, gesturing with his hands that Moth needn’t be so nervous, though he was quick to get to the meat of what he felt was the issue.

            You aren’t still worried, are you? I am feeling better, really.

            “If’n you’re sure…” Moth murmured, eyes trailing away though they quickly refocused back on H in a bid to keep the conversation going. “Not, that I’m tryin’ to call you a liar, or nothin’, it’s just, you were really out of it last night, and you don’t usually have lingerin’ aftereffects from things.”

            To be fair, alcohol has been one of those things that can and will put me under if I have enough. I think you remember one such incident.

            Moth couldn’t help a wince, even as he let out a slight huff of what could’ve been laughter. He did indeed remember, mostly because it had been the first time that he’d seen someone stand up to the Jersey Devil, and actually have the boisterous, somewhat aggressive cryptid back down. H had been dragged home with a moonshine-induced hangover the size of the Tappan Zee, occasionally belching supernatural fire that looked ready to shatter his pumpkin head, but he’d done it.

            He’d done it because Moth had told him that Jersey made him uncomfortable. It had been one of the things that had solidified their friendship, back in the 80s. The Headless Horseman had been one of the few entities immediately in the cryptid’s corner not long after finding him in the Tappan Zee, and Moth, well, he didn’t take it lightly.

            Though he didn’t want to make H more worried, Moth still couldn’t help chewing over that odd feeling he’d had upon waking up this morning. Again, being an omen and all.

            But, even though he was currently going over his memory, over and over again, it was hard to tell what exactly his apparent “powers” were attempting to tell him. The most he could come up with was dark, cramped, and cold. It wasn’t underwater, thankfully, but that didn’t tell him much. Was it even related to H getting robbed, or being sick? He couldn’t even say, apart from the fact that the warning had come immediately afterwards. But H seemed fine now, so, maybe the worry wasn’t warranted?

            Unless something worse could potentially be on the horizon, though the warning itself was so vague and could mean anything, or maybe—

            The faint humming from the headless Hessian beside him snapped the Mothman out of his thoughts, especially because he recognized the tune.

            Almost heaven…

            Now it was Moth’s turn to feel the strange mix of exasperation and fondness; he knew precisely what H was trying to do. Ever since the Hessian had caught the cryptid humming along to this song when it played over the radio, he’d nudge Moth with the tune when it seemed like the cryptid was getting a bit too caught up in his own head. Moth, couldn’t help find it a little much sometimes, but at the very least H never did it to cut him off or pretend he was lying. Still…

            Almost heaven…?

            There was a lilting note to the end of the stanza this time, inviting the Mothman to add in his part. Giving a huffed, exasperated sigh, the cryptid fought a grin, lowly singing his reply.

            “West Virginia…”

            A barked, warm laugh slipped out from H’s covered neck, the Hessian reaching over and ruffling Moth’s head through his hood. It ended up knocking the hood somewhat off his head, the Horseman just as quickly moving to fix it. They stalled for a moment, H reaffixing it with a careful gentility, but he was quick to sign out a question of his own.

            What’s on your mind?

            “Shouldn’ I be askin’ you that…?” Moth slipped out with a bit of shy sardonic energy, wings fluttering a little at first with nerves before H gently nudged against the cryptid’s shoulder, signing his reply.

            Everyone’s asked about mine. I want to know yours.

            Moth didn’t do more than give a quiet sigh at first, trying to marshal his thoughts.

            “…Okay, okay. It’s just…” The cryptid stopped, hands coming up to clasp and fidget with each other, before the nervous energy broke into stumbling words. “Had a bit of a, kinda sorta, bad feelin’ when wakin’ up this morning. Before you got up.”

            What, like a bad dream? H asked, carefully watching Moth’s body language and what he could see of the cryptid’s face in the shadows of the hood.

            “Well, yeah, but…” Moth fought with his thoughts for a moment longer, before finally, fretfully coming out with, “L-Like how I do sometimes. Y’know.”

            And, well, H did know. Having known the Mothman as long as he did, he knew about the other’s reputation as an omen, he’d seen the news discussing the Silver Bridge in West Virginia, as well as the cryptid’s reaction to the reruns a few months later discussing it. This had all fed into the Mothman legend, and the cryptid himself embodied it in his odd spells of precognition that would often strike him in his sleep. The already nervous creature tended to grow frenetic when dealing with these, especially when, as the event in question became more imminent, the visions would grow more encompassing, and even intrude on Moth’s waking moments.

            It did not help that, often enough, these were predicting disasters rather than anything good. It left the cryptid with a strange sense of responsibility that clashed with his nervous, people-shy demeanor. Moth had enough trouble keeping up with regular habits as it was, he hardly needed something else throwing off his ability to sleep and eat.

            And, well, he also hardly needed to be made to feel self-conscious about it. If his powers were trying to warn him, then perhaps a good dose of open-mindedness as well as caution was warranted. Throwing a bracing arm over Moth’s shoulders, H drew the cryptid in for a brief side hug. His line of sight briefly skirted ahead, looking for the familiar figures of Harriet and Brian. The pair were still up ahead, poking around a bit more sedately now as they were coming to the more built up, and less grown over. It would probably not be long before they would come up on one of the main roads, and have to cut through some actual neighborhoods. Hopefully most everyone would be in today, H would rather they didn’t get held up…

            What was it? He signed, his attention refocusing on Moth for the moment. The cryptid, for his part, appeared to mull deeply on whatever was in his head before he finally spoke.

            “…I dunno. Just, felt like I was in a box. No lights, cold. At least, that’s what I remember. I dunno what else. I dunno if it’s even, about what happened to you, but it feels important.”

            Well, that was…slightly ominous if not unhelpful. Though given that it was affecting Moth in this sort of a way, H couldn’t help gently pointing out something else, something he felt was important when dealing with these sorts of things.

Sometimes it doesn’t happen, remember? The train accident you said would happen and it didn’t.

            “Missus Edith spoke to Mr. Green down at the train station. They did maintenance, then the feelin’ went away.” Moth replied, red eyes watching the path of the hiking trail as it slid under their feet. They wouldn’t be following it, instead heading straight into the town itself, but for the time being it was hardly more than a detail, H continuing to sign as he and Moth continued in Harriet and Brian’s wake.

            So the thing didn’t happen.

            Though even with the reminder, Moth still grew visibly upset now, red eyes jolting to look at the Horseman as he stumbled over his words. “But, I dunno what, this isn’t an accident, H, I don’t even know what to tell you to not do this time—”

            It wasn’t hard for the Horseman to see that the cryptid was working himself up, this sort of thing often happened when it came to odd, vague warnings like this. But this was the last thing the Hessian wanted; he knew letting Moth spiral would only lead to the cryptid neglecting himself, if not completely running down as he sought to fix the problem before it could get out of hand. Gently grasping the cryptid’s flailing hands, the Horseman held them for a moment, pausing their stride for a brief instant before he let go, making sure Moth was watching as he began to sign.

            I know, I know, I understand. Please don’t excite yourself, we don’t even know what’s wrong. If something is wrong.

            “But what if…” Moth’s hesitant, somewhat shaky voice trailed off, red eyes beginning to wander back and forth as he tried to marshal his thoughts. Though it wasn’t that hard for the Horseman to read into what he was seeing; the Mothman’s gifts were helpful, when they were actually giving information that could be worked with. Though it was hardly Moth’s fault that any visions he had were vague, he still took them as seriously as he could and tried his best to avert what disaster they might’ve been predicting. The Horseman would’ve said that perhaps Moth was a little too caught up in his visions, though he had the distinct feeling as to why that was. It wasn’t something that he or Moth had talked about, really ever, but since they’d seen that rerun on the news about the Silver Bridge…

H didn’t know a lot about the situation, but he did know that Moth tried his best, even when he was worried about not being believed. It was an admirable thing about the shy cryptid, even with his nerves and problems. With a softer sigh emanating from his covered neck, the Horseman threw an arm underneath Moth’s wings, using that as leverage to briefly yank the frame shrouded in the green coat towards him in a bracing squeeze. It was one of the few forms of comfort he could offer, in lieu of something verbal, so, H damn well was going to do it.

And, at the least, Moth’s red eyes looked a little less fraught when the Hessian pulled away, even watching carefully as H’s glove-covered fingers signed out what he hoped was more encouragement.

            Come on, let’s not leave Harriet and Brian alone. If something else happens, tell me, I do want to hear it. Even if it’s vague. We can figure it out.