They pressed on together, through calf-deep snow, into areas not tread by foot since the last time aspiring dragoons came to that remote mountainside, some moons ago.
They came to a ravine spanned only by a broken bridge; Howl leapt across with the agility only one dragon-cursed could manage, and a bell or so later had the bridge replaced; he insisted on holding it, as if he didn't trust his ropes, as Warren crossed over, watching Warren with careful eyes and his arms knotted as he held the bridge tightly.
"Not so far now," he said, and they began the ascent of the mountain at mid-morning.
The sky was white with thick, sky-choking cloud, bright with unseen sun; Howl said little as they began to climb the sometimes-steep snow-covered slope toward the training grounds where he once worked under Ryuuga to become a dragoon. Scraggly trees in scanty copses dotted the landscape, hardly more than clusters under the white sky, nothing like even a child's conception of a wood; bare branches scraped the sky, reaching up like imploring fingers at the unrelieved whiteness of the cloud cover.
"We should be there by mid-morning," Howl said.
They continued to climb. Warren felt himself lulling into a rhythm at the physical exertion, his mind wandering; he became aware of something like a touch on his mind, an intrusive feeling, like a finger wedged uncomfortably between clothes and skin, or jammed between tongue and cheek. Slowly, the unrelieved white of all around began to drift away, and Warren became aware of a mind touching his, of a voice.
So that is who you are. That is the kind of person you are.
Images, seemingly unrelated, seemingly unimagined, impossible, flickered across his mind's eye, some so real as to blur the line between real and image. Memories of what had happened, and visions of what was yet to come. Dimly, he was aware that it had begun to snow, thick, cold snow that touched his skin and seemed to freeze it. Howl seemed to be dragging himself up the endless slope with the assistance of his lance hilts.
You will destroy him you know, when you tell him. Or were you not even going to do that? Once you take the girl, he will be destroyed - and it will be entirely your fault.
He was looking into Howl's profile in the Duskbreak, telling him - and Howl looked up, and gave him a smile, one of his healing, forgiving smiles. "It's alright," he said. "It doesn't matter." And that smile again, bright and compassionate, encouraging. Almost enough to make Warren believe Howl was happy for him.
That's the moment. That's the moment I will take his heart into my jaws, and I will devour it. So succulent. Nothing is tastier than the heart of an innocent.
They were struggling uphill, snow stinging at their faces, at their eyes, burying them up to their knees. Howl was dragging himself now with his lance, shaking his head, trying to dismiss whatever it was he was seeing. Warren was only dimly aware of it now.
You've noticed, haven't you, Warren? He doesn't smile much anymore. When he does, it's wry humor, or sardonic humor, or self-deprecating humor. When was the last time you heard him laugh? When was the last time you saw him cry? He's already half-mine. You will finish that. Because you can't turn way from the one who is more important to you than he is. Because you will show him just how unimportant he is. And in that moment, he will become mine and only mine. He who fought me for so long, who struggled for a lifetime against despair... at last, I will taste his heart.
Snow clogged their nostrils, their lungs; Warren couldn't see now, the snow so thick that even Howl's struggling form was half-hidden from view. He couldn't be sure how much further they were going, or even if they were advancing at all. It felt like it was all they could do to keep moving in this blizzard.
Maybe you should just kill him.
The vision was so intense, it felt as if it were the real thing. Warren simply turned and buried his sword into Howl's back, right there on the mountainside. It was so quick, and so easy, that even the blood gushing forth from between his shoulderblades and from his chest felt somehow unreal. Warren's hand twitched as Howl slid off of his sword into the snow.
Wouldn't that be better? No pain. No heartache. It all ended before that. Before he knew how you intended to betray him. Because you do intend to betray him. Because once you do... he will become worse than dead.  Better to just kill him now - before he turns out like Snow. Better to just kill him now... before he sees what kind of person you REALLY are.
The snow fell so thick that all Warren saw, if he even chose to open his eyes anymore, was thick white. Somewhere, nearby, he sensed Howl, clutching a spear plunged into the earth and muttering over and over, "It doesn't matter it doesn't matter it doesn't matter..."
And that temptation lingered, like the snow in his nostrils and eyelashes.
They came to a ravine spanned only by a broken bridge; Howl leapt across with the agility only one dragon-cursed could manage, and a bell or so later had the bridge replaced; he insisted on holding it, as if he didn't trust his ropes, as Warren crossed over, watching Warren with careful eyes and his arms knotted as he held the bridge tightly.
"Not so far now," he said, and they began the ascent of the mountain at mid-morning.
The sky was white with thick, sky-choking cloud, bright with unseen sun; Howl said little as they began to climb the sometimes-steep snow-covered slope toward the training grounds where he once worked under Ryuuga to become a dragoon. Scraggly trees in scanty copses dotted the landscape, hardly more than clusters under the white sky, nothing like even a child's conception of a wood; bare branches scraped the sky, reaching up like imploring fingers at the unrelieved whiteness of the cloud cover.
"We should be there by mid-morning," Howl said.
They continued to climb. Warren felt himself lulling into a rhythm at the physical exertion, his mind wandering; he became aware of something like a touch on his mind, an intrusive feeling, like a finger wedged uncomfortably between clothes and skin, or jammed between tongue and cheek. Slowly, the unrelieved white of all around began to drift away, and Warren became aware of a mind touching his, of a voice.
So that is who you are. That is the kind of person you are.
Images, seemingly unrelated, seemingly unimagined, impossible, flickered across his mind's eye, some so real as to blur the line between real and image. Memories of what had happened, and visions of what was yet to come. Dimly, he was aware that it had begun to snow, thick, cold snow that touched his skin and seemed to freeze it. Howl seemed to be dragging himself up the endless slope with the assistance of his lance hilts.
You will destroy him you know, when you tell him. Or were you not even going to do that? Once you take the girl, he will be destroyed - and it will be entirely your fault.
He was looking into Howl's profile in the Duskbreak, telling him - and Howl looked up, and gave him a smile, one of his healing, forgiving smiles. "It's alright," he said. "It doesn't matter." And that smile again, bright and compassionate, encouraging. Almost enough to make Warren believe Howl was happy for him.
That's the moment. That's the moment I will take his heart into my jaws, and I will devour it. So succulent. Nothing is tastier than the heart of an innocent.
They were struggling uphill, snow stinging at their faces, at their eyes, burying them up to their knees. Howl was dragging himself now with his lance, shaking his head, trying to dismiss whatever it was he was seeing. Warren was only dimly aware of it now.
You've noticed, haven't you, Warren? He doesn't smile much anymore. When he does, it's wry humor, or sardonic humor, or self-deprecating humor. When was the last time you heard him laugh? When was the last time you saw him cry? He's already half-mine. You will finish that. Because you can't turn way from the one who is more important to you than he is. Because you will show him just how unimportant he is. And in that moment, he will become mine and only mine. He who fought me for so long, who struggled for a lifetime against despair... at last, I will taste his heart.
Snow clogged their nostrils, their lungs; Warren couldn't see now, the snow so thick that even Howl's struggling form was half-hidden from view. He couldn't be sure how much further they were going, or even if they were advancing at all. It felt like it was all they could do to keep moving in this blizzard.
Maybe you should just kill him.
The vision was so intense, it felt as if it were the real thing. Warren simply turned and buried his sword into Howl's back, right there on the mountainside. It was so quick, and so easy, that even the blood gushing forth from between his shoulderblades and from his chest felt somehow unreal. Warren's hand twitched as Howl slid off of his sword into the snow.
Wouldn't that be better? No pain. No heartache. It all ended before that. Before he knew how you intended to betray him. Because you do intend to betray him. Because once you do... he will become worse than dead.  Better to just kill him now - before he turns out like Snow. Better to just kill him now... before he sees what kind of person you REALLY are.
The snow fell so thick that all Warren saw, if he even chose to open his eyes anymore, was thick white. Somewhere, nearby, he sensed Howl, clutching a spear plunged into the earth and muttering over and over, "It doesn't matter it doesn't matter it doesn't matter..."
And that temptation lingered, like the snow in his nostrils and eyelashes.
People have forgotten this truth. But you mustn't forget it. You become responsible forever for what you have tamed.
Howl's Wiki
Howl's Wiki
