Lore [6/???] Part 1 of 2

When Hunter sees them, something deep and horrible fills his chest. Something he hadn't felt since a hospital bed kept him from tearing their throat out.

But there they are. Different than he remembers - smaller, a starved look around their cheekbones, dark circles under their eyes.

He keeps his distance. He watches from afar.

"Hunter-" one of the others begins softly to his left, "this painting doesn't have a price sticker. Did Xavier-"

"Not now," he snaps. The Initiate immediately withdraws. Hunter can feel their shock, their hurt. Hunter has never been sharp with the others. Has always been happy to help.

But something changed when he saw [Redacted].

He follows their movements with his gaze until they start moving toward Main Street, the only way in and out of this little town barely anyone knows about.

Why are they here, then? What are the chances? How did -

[Redacted] makes it to a car that Hunter knows so well. That he rode in countless times. That carried them to Senior prom because entering the line of limos and sleek sedans in a jalopy with more rust than paint was just so hilarious.

Before he can think, he starts running. Full tilt. Faster than he knew he could. He makes it to the car and slams his hand on the passenger window, startling [Redacted] from where they were half-in, half-out of the driver's seat.

"Hunter?" they say, voice muffled through the glass.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he snaps.

They stare at him, eyes wide and a little scared.

Good.

"What?" they ask, obviously struck by his sudden appearance. "What are -- how-"

"Get out of the fucking car."

[Redacted] licks their chapped lips, eyes scanning around their surroundings. Trying to decide if they should run. If they should stay.

"Did you follow me?" Hunter hisses.

[Redacted] looks confused. "Hunter... It's been a year. No one knows where you've been. I thought you were dead." There's real emotion choking that final word. The beginnings of frustrated tears make their eyes shimmer.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Hunter snaps, leaning close to the window.

[Redacted] swallows, eyes flicking down to the passenger seat. Hunter thinks they might be about to ask him to get in.

Like he'd ever get in a car with them ever again.

But then he sees the items in the passenger seat. A piece of paper. Tape.

[Redacted] gingerly takes the paper and leans across the center console. They affix the paper against the window, tape the corners, and leave the car.

The paper has their familiar writing - shockingly gorgeous, large and looping.

Free. Drives better than it looks. Keys and title in glove box.

[Redacted] watches Hunter over the car's roof, their eyes dry now. Emotionless, somehow. They've never been emotionless in their life.

"Taking your advice," they say.

They don't have to elaborate. Hunter remembers.

"Why here?"

[Redacted] glances toward the woods on the other side of Main Street. "Heard this is the best place to lay down and disappear in the state."

A shiver runs down Hunter's spine. He knows what that means. He knows precisely why it's phrased that way.

Disappear.

But no one really disappears when they go into those woods. They don't remain the same, sure. But they don't get the peaceful oblivion they yearn for.

Hunter thinks of warning them. But then he sees his parents, dead in the ruined backseat, and [Redacted] completely unharmed and crawling through the driver's side window.

"Good luck with that," he mutters, turning his back on them.