A twist in fate or in Rai’s usual moods landed them back at the railway station come nightfall. Sao stood among the waiting crowd on the platform, which numbered about half the people they’d encountered there in the afternoon. A dull darkness fell over the town and the imitation gaslamps on their antique iron posts flickered on. The golden spheres of light they cast in misty air around their glowing heads reminded Sao of Tinsel’s poppies. He touched the one in his buttonhole to make sure it hadn’t gotten lost.

The travellers and those seeing them off were talking in hushed voices, with the occasional sprinkling of laughter. A persistent but pleasant buzz that left him slightly lightheaded. He saw Rai coming back from the ticket booth and wondered if he was dreaming.

Rai squinted at the ticket in his hand.

“You’re taking the train?” Sao asked. “I thought you found the whole scheme impractical.”

“It is. But I have the time, so might as well see what all the hype is about.” He shoved the paper in his pocket. “And I’m supporting an important piece of local history. That’s what the ticket guy said. I had to talk to an actual cashier to get it - I don’t think there was a piece of tech in there from this century.”

“But you did get your ticket?”

“Yeah.” There was no bitterness in his voice, and as Rai dropped on one of the benches and looked up and down the tracks, Sao dared to believe Rai was looking forward to the trip.

“There’s a famous movie about people getting killed on a train,” Rai said. “One of my favorites as a kid. A bunch of people get on a cross-country train that takes them through a snowy wasteland...”

Sao eyed him with amusement. He had seen much of Rai’s affinity for horror, but as far as he knew Rai had little interest in films about crime. “That’s the one where a group of high society folks conspire to kill one man? I’ve heard of it.”

“Uh. No, it was a monkey that possessed people through astral projection. Although there was a princess in there somewhere.”

Sao smiled at the dark sky and said nothing.

“There are so many people possessed that they have to crash the train in the end. It’s really wild.” Rai looked up. “Is that Ayer?”

And it was indeed, bounding up the stairs and then making his way down the platform, politely excusing himself as his enormous flared coat nudged at the waiting passengers’ backs and arms and luggage.

“I can’t believe you’d leave without saying goodbye,” he laughed, though there was a touch of real pain in his voice. “You didn’t tell me how today went.”

Rai slid aside so Ayer could sit, but he didn’t. “We talked to the girl in the picture before Zed’s,” Rai said quietly. “She was pretty helpful, she knew a lot about her situation but she didn’t want to make an official report of any kind.”

“Did you push her? It’s kind of important, isn’t it?”

“She refused. It’s a sensitive matter.”

Ayer crossed his arms and tried to bear down on Rai. “What if I made the report?”

“You can. I mean, I’ve submitted a bunch of the material as evidence already. But for the school or police to take it further, she’d have to confirm the story.”

Ayer’s handsome face seemed on the verge of tears.

“It’s alright,” Rai mumbled. “There will be others. Uh, I mean we have others to go to, there’s probably someone who will be willing to talk or press charges. We talked with Zed and Ace, actually, and they might be slightly more open to the idea.”

“They’re the ones who did it to her, weren’t they?”

Rai glared at him, but with only mild acidity. “So you knew.”

“I kind of suspected. It was just too weird how they were the first guys to get hit in like, forever. And with the same words? I just thought – someone’s looking out for her. I mean, a pattern like that has to mean something, right?”

“It gives the men a little leverage against her. Unfortunately. Would you be able to keep an eye on them? There were four words on the girl, and if the pattern is payback for those, two guys are still at risk.”

“Who cares about them? This is ridiculous.” Ayer rubbed his fingers over his eyes and finally slumped onto the bench.

Sao inched closer to the bench, shielding them from the curious eyes in the crowd. “I’m sorry, Ayer. Did you say you knew the girl in some personal capacity?”

“I’ve just seen her around. I was abroad for most of the year so it’s not like we’ve even met. But why do I have to be her friend to want to help? And anyway,” he added, “it’s not just her who’s been hurt. The girls, they make me think of the girls I saw in the hospital over in Highland. It was a new one, I was there to help set up - and it was the only hospital for miles, serving these really out-there villages, and you wouldn’t believe how they treated the girls there. Women yeah, but the ones that got me were the kids...”

“A hospital?” Rai echoed.

Ayer gave a dismal smirk. “I wasn’t there doing surgeries. I’m just a lame philanthropy-business student - I was there to do resource management. Supply chain, hiring, accounts, that kind of bullshit. I tried to do some volunteering but…” He shrugged. “Maybe I would have been less frustrated if I was actually capable of helping out, medically. You try to stay objective. In a lot of ways, their culture is miles ahead of ours. But you see one or two big things and it all falls apart. It’s hard.”

They gave him a moment to catch his breath before Rai asked, “Do you know Professor Triad? Apparently he’s built hospitals all around Highland.”

“Yeah.” Ayer brightened. “It was actually all his project. He set up all the funding and construction, but he sent me down for the opening because he couldn’t be there. He’s been having health problems. Also, Highland’s seasons are flipped so it’s their summer now - and he doesn’t like the sun. He burns easy. Sounds vampirey, huh? But - I don’t know if you’ve seen pictures of him – he’s got a sort of condition.”

“We saw him today,” Sao said with a smile.

“He’s back from his sabbatical? He didn’t tell me. Cool guy, isn’t he?”

“He wasn’t feeling too great,” Rai said. When Ayer’s face began to fall, he quickly pivoted, though his choice of subject was surprising. “Have you seen Jin around?”

Ayer paused, blinking as if reeling. “No. Not here, anyway. I’ll probably see him later, why?”

“We passed him just a while ago,” Sao offered. “He was covering his eyes and shouting apologies. We were wondering if he’s alright.”

Still collecting his bearings, Ayer looked from Sao to Rai then Sao again. “Are you sure it was him?”

“We both saw him,” Rai said.

“Well, maybe he was stressed out. The tech guys always seem to have some gigantic projects due. And I guess I’ve probably stressed him out further with this stupid mission and the pictures…”

Sao was eager to nudge that off the table. “Have you two known each other for a long time?”

“Nope. The school just decided to pair me with a roommate when I got back from Highland a couple weeks ago. We get along great, though.” They must have looked dubious, because Ayer went on. “He’s shy, yeah, but he never says no when it’s something important. He’s helping me, remember? When everyone else has their head in the sand..”

“Does he…” Rai paused so he could affix Ayer with one of his most unsettling stares. One that would take everything in. “Does he know the girl, Tinsel?”

Ayer stood and let Rai absorb his unmitigated disgust. “I see where this is going. Trust me, he wouldn’t hurt a fucking fly and he never goes to those boozefests. In that way, he’s got more sense than me. He’s just a weird, good guy. Leave him alone. Okay?”

But the stare did not let up. Ayer held it a few more moments before turning away. “When’s your train?”

“In a few. I have work to do at my office, but I’ll probably be back soon.” Rai glanced at Sao, but did not volunteer the information that he’d still be in town. For that, Sao was grateful.

“The view’s pretty cool at night.”

“That’s what I’ve heard.”

“Well,” Ayer said, mustering a grin. “Take care.”

As he drew away, he was at first walking backward. His eyes were on Sao, but not on his face. Sao glanced down and his eyes caught on the little yellow flower hooked into the lapel of his coat. He peered back up again to see Ayer finally turn and, after a bit of struggle, managed to pull himself and his absurd orange coat past the wall of the crowd and out of sight.

—

Sao couldn’t be sure what had thrown off his night. Maybe it was the dispiriting conversation with Ayer at the station, though it seemed unkind to lay all the blame on him. From the start, the young man had only ever been trying to help.

Ten minutes after Ayer left them, the train pulled into the station, thrilling as ever, draconic with all its hissing and rumbling. After analyzing the ticket, they realized Rai had actually been assigned a seat near the center of the train so they had to wrangle their way back through the crowd, all of whom seemed to have seats at the front or back, the far sides of the platform. Rai tried to clear their path by waving his arms and yelling, to spare Sao any unwanted contact. The passengers were all in gloves and long sleeves, so Sao didn’t mind, but Rai seemed to be having fun.

—

He should have had a real dinner, dropped by the Atrium perhaps, but by the time he found himself alone he wasn’t very hungry. He wasn’t tired either, which was unusual for him. He’d done precious little napping since coming to Murnau. It might have been the photos; they made sleep look so unpleasant.

He wondered if he’d be able to sleep in a train. Of course he would.

Rai’s train carriage had instilled him with more than a tinge of jealousy. Up through the windows he could see tall padded seats, rope racks for baggage, and what looked like regency print wallpaper - in a train? Their talk of movies had put the image of an old cross-country steamer in his mind; he imagined a real coal engine, and men in suits and women in furs and their cases and hatboxes piled onboard, courtesy of the valets. Everyone was in charge of their own baggage here in modern day Murnau. Someone rammed their luggage into his ankle at some point, and he only smiled, thinking of steamer trunks. He didn’t notice exactly when Rai hopped into the carriage, because Rai didn’t say a word to him before doing so.

—

Sao’s dinner that night was to be cake. That was all he had the mind for as he walked through the town, watching out for patches of ice. Valentine's spirit had the populace in its grip, every cafe and eatery was adorned with hearts and streamers and offers for two; violin music spilled out of every open storefront. Everywhere he turned there seemed to be couples, throuples, and configurations he couldn’t name. Although, in a more sensible state he reflected they were probably just groups of friends; even the twosomes were likely just companions or roommates out to grab a bite and meet up with others.

The bakery was a haven of simplicity. He picked up a plain cream crepe cake for himself; the treat he’d liked most from the tea tray Skogul had ordered. He ordered a slice of black forest for her, selecting one that had two cherries instead of one, and creamy mont blanc for Marsh. He didn’t have much reasoning for the latter. He had made the order somewhat blindly. His mind was elsewhere.

Still on the platform, maybe, where for a moment he wondered if he should just leave. But then he heard someone call him from above and he saw Rai leaning out of one of the opened windows.

“Ayer was right. This makes for a pretty good view,” he said, grinning. It was one of his unaware smiles, the kind that didn’t probe or sting or burn. Sao smiled back enviously. But Rai didn’t see it because he had pulled himself back into the train to bark at the man in the neighboring seat. The man had accidentally elbowed him in the head.

Sao continued to smile. His envy subsided a little.

—

Skogul had messaged him earlier to tell him that she would be accompanying Marsh to a college staff dinner. He let himself into their house with the key code they had shared with him. He instinctively bolted and chained the door once he was inside, like he did at home, but caught himself while searching for a nonexistent second and third bolt. Marsh was a highly tolerant fellow but Sao doubted he’d enjoy being locked out of his own house for the night if Sao happened to doze off.

He made himself some hot tea and ate his cake.

His heart was still beating harder than he would have liked, after the realization at the door. And maybe because of the running.

Sao had been a poor runner for as long as he could remember. He was thoroughly unimpressive at just about any kind of sport, so he wasn’t sure what possessed him to chase the train, short as the chase was. Maybe it was the young lady who had been standing next to him, waving to someone who might have been her sister or friend or lover, another woman just as reluctant to part from her. The lady on the platform waved her arms and cried out her goodbyes as the train doors closed and her companion was pulled away, and then she began to run. Then there was the man, who might have actually been the partner of the woman waving from the front of the train, who also took off. Then an older woman, hobbling along behind. Several more passengers appeared in the windows, some leaning out as far as they could to wave.

The train was moving slowly, and the man who had pulled ahead of the back nearly managed to touch the outstretched hand of a woman he had been chasing.

Rai, body half slung out of his own window, staring ahead with his hard, dark-rimmed eyes. Sao walked alongside his carriage, under his window, eyes also ahead. But soon he realized Rai was no longer looking ahead but down at him, and Sao found the train was moving fast enough to require him to run. When his brain registered what was happening his knees screamed at him to stop, but he continued, as if pulled along by some invisible string tied to the wheels.

Of course, that string would break eventually. He couldn’t keep up. He stumbled to a stop, panting, his heart ready to burst from his chest. Still watching him curiously, Rai receded into the distance. The last Sao saw of it was the red lights of the very last carriage in the dark, and the blue blue of Rai’s wrists hanging out of his window, over the side.

—

He wished he could have blamed Tinsel, or the prospect of Happy or Rip (who he’d still never met) being targeted for bringing back the upsetting dreams he thought he’d finally rid himself of. Tinsel was a petite redhead, like the old friend who he always managed to lose in those dreams, but the similarities ended there.

The flower, he thought absurdly, which might have been kept alive in the winter by some kind of infectious magic, could have carried some ill effect. It wouldn’t be the first time magic residue put his mind in disarray. He plucked it from his buttonhole and did a quick search online. As it turned out, yellow poppies were simply hardy little plants.

It might have been the lack of cameras that was making him anxious. Skogul was right, it was crazy to feel he had to be monitored. But he had not been lying when he said they made him feel safe. It wasn’t just safety from corporeal intruders - the cameras in his apartment were an element to his present life that made his old one feel oceans away. There was nothing even vaguely resembling a camera in the poorly constructed tent that plagued him in that one, hideous dream. There were no white tiles and doors with deadbolts.

But then, he’d had no trouble finding a peaceful night’s sleep without these elements before. Sugar, caffeine, cameras, cold. None of these really made a difference.

As he ate his cake he told himself he was upset with Rai. Rai had concealed the fact that he knew the bites were done by false teeth. And Sao had gone and whipped Marsh and Skogul into a panic over a shapeshifter that was never even a possibility. That could have been Rai’s intention - Rai had been hunting shapeshifters since he was a teenager - and he had, early on in their acquaintance, suspected Sao. It had taken a full show of the scars on his face to convince Rai his secrecy was no underground creature conspiracy.

And that had been a concealment on Sao’s part. Sao always found it hard to stay upset with Rai when he considered what he, himself, withheld.

He washed his plate and fork and put the other two cakes in the fridge, which was large enough to hide four bodies in. He smiled a little at the thought; it was a metric Rai always seemed to use when measuring refrigerators. Marsh’s fridge did contain a lot of meat, but they were all ham and beef and poultry.

As he moved through the house, Sao recalled a friend of his, not the redhead who would be showing up in his dream, but a man whom his old office had jokingly deemed a vampire - mostly because he made a habit of working through nights with the lights off. He had left to join a company - and reports would later deem it a cult - run by a friend. After the death of said friend, the vampire had supposedly left Central for the sandy coast. The image of him lounging on the beach in swim shorts still made Sao chuckle.

Delta had been serious and colorless like Professor Triad (though not nearly as pale), and factoring in the unlit office, they definitely had more than a few qualities in common. A quick internet search of Triad blew away any comparison, though. The man was prolific. He was not only an extremely successful investor, but he put his money to perhaps the best use one could, opening hospitals in and around his home country in Arena, Highland, for communities in need.

The pictures of Triad in news articles definitely shook him a little. The man was unmistakable with his height, his snow-white complexion and affinity for black clothing. But he was grinning in every picture like he’d won the lottery (not that he needed it, with his money), standing tall and broad and always in some silly sunhat, with swipes of sunscreen on his cheeks and chin. He was completely unlike the person they had seen tucked into the small slat of the doorway, half hidden in the dark. His eyes in the photos were sharp.

But what did Triad and his hospitals in the dry canyons of Highland have to do with Sao’s forest nightmares?

It hadn’t been his intention to fall asleep on the couch, but it was a lucky break because it meant Skogul came back and woke him up before he could choke on his own tongue, or said something he’d regret in his sleep.

—-

In his dream, he was back in the woods. The trees were a tall solid mass that blocked out the sky, and of course, they were unadorned with lights or any sort of fun comfort. This was the wilderness, and he was here with his little red-haired friend with the quick fingers and sharp tongue who had planned out their route. She had sewn and packed the tent, assembled their meals and drawn the map and chosen the night of their departure. She had chosen well; it was a spring evening, warm even after dark. She was his only friend and he trusted her with all of his heart.

They were only twelve. How could either of them have really believed they knew anything?

The trip lasted only a few idyllic hours. The tent went up, the blankets were laid out — and the lurkers clawed their way in. She was small enough to hide behind the pile of bags and slip out in the brush unseen, and he told her so. She listened, because he had never seriously told her to do anything before in his life. He hadn’t had many thoughts of his own. He still didn’t. The gnarled hands pulled him out of the tent, and that was that.

That was that.

As he was carried away faster than he would ever run on his own two feet, loose branches and dirty fingers ripping at the ridiculous piped and frilled shirt that was half of Wishfort’s uniform, he did not have the capacity to wonder if she was chasing him, calling for him, or any of the things a person did when someone they might care about might be saying goodbye and going somewhere far away for the unforeseeable future.

But now, years too late, laid out like a damp, dying fish in a living room that wasn’t his, he wondered if she had – and very much doubted it.