Hours later, deep in the night, Vin lay on the mat. He didn’t sleep, of course. He simply stared in the direction where Leonard had settled on the floor, wrapped in a small, worn-out blanket. The human seemed to be sleeping, though his face showed the accumulated exhaustion of weeks, maybe months.

Without thinking too much, Vin sat up. He walked quietly. Then, with a careful motion, he lifted Leonard with his right arm and rested him on his shoulder.

“Told you I don’t need to rest on your mat, buddy,” he murmured, sarcastic.

Hours later, deep in the night, Vin lay on the mat. He didn’t sleep, of course. He simply stared in the direction where Leonard had settled on the floor, wrapped in a small, worn-out blanket. The human seemed to be sleeping, though his face showed the accumulated exhaustion of weeks, maybe months.

Without thinking too much, Vin sat up. He walked quietly. Then, with a careful motion, he lifted Leonard with his right arm and rested him on his shoulder.

“Told you I don’t need to rest on your mat, buddy,” he murmured, sarcastic.

He laid him down gently, as if handling something fragile. Adjusted his head, then his arms, making sure he was well covered. After that, he watched him in silence. His eyes —had he possessed any— traced Leonard’s hair, his beard, his sleeping expression.

And then, without meaning to make him uncomfortable, he left the cabin.

**

The next morning, Leonard awoke. Gray light filtered in through the broken boards of the window. He stretched, confused.

“What am I doing on the mat and… Vin? VIN! Where are you?” he asked, dazed.

He sat up, still groggy, and then noticed some supplies near him. They were things he hadn’t seen before —a few weapons, grains, canned goods neatly stacked. Leonard approached cautiously.

“What does this mean? Is this goodbye, Vin?” he whispered. “I guess it was best for both of us, but... weren’t we supposed to go to Eridanus together?”

That question sounded more like he had resigned himself to being alone again.

Meanwhile, Vin was striding through a deserted city. The remains of what had once been a vibrant and modern urban center were now nothing but dust, shattered glass, senseless graffiti, and crumbling structures. 

He seemed determined to find something and wouldn’t leave until he did.

After nearly an hour of navigating empty streets and fallen signs, he reached a partially collapsed shopping mall. Its front entrance had caved in, and nature had begun reclaiming its territory with creeping vines and moss.

“Let’s try here too,” he muttered, stepping over broken tiles and warped metal. “I hope there’s something useful.”

He checked several clothing stores, pulling items from shelves and hangers, selecting pieces by eye that might fit Leonard’s build —shoes, pants, shirts, even men’s underwear. Despite the dust, he folded them neatly, stuffing them into a bag.

Then he moved on to the supermarket. Many cans were bloated or coated in orange rust, their labels faded or unreadable.

“Fuck! This stuff’s expired… no surprise,” he grumbled, slamming one can back onto the shelf. “But there’s gotta be something still usable.”

He kept searching aisle by aisle, until he found a few items that had survived time and neglect: vacuum-sealed dry goods, jars with intact lids, and canned food that didn’t look swollen.

He filled a plastic basket with whatever he could carry —hygiene products, medicine, a razor, two toothbrushes, soap, a can opener, even a small alarm clock.

All for a human who, inexplicably, mattered more to him than he was willing to admit —even to himself.

A while later, as he returned to the forest, something interrupted his path. A voice emerged from the trees —seductive and venomous at once:

“Oh, darling… don’t try so hard.”

From the shadows, a slim and elegant figure emerged, almost unreal. A provocative soul, bald, with small horns protruding like dark jewels. His skin seemed to glow under the faint light. Silky black lips, and his eye sockets were empty.

It was another Rainbane, slowly approaching him.