Legend of Ransera

He could really only blame himself for having been turned into an errand boy again.

As Mino stood outside in the cold, warmer than most but still susceptible to the chill, he watched the chaos of a hospital. He didn’t have any recollection of ever needing to go into one himself; the perks of hiding behind noble titles. Now, too, there was no express need for him to walk through the doors and announce his presence for the working doctors and nurses to take note of. He rocked back on his heels, rubbed his hands together before sticking them in the pockets of his pants. The satin ribbon around his wrist was a comfortable caress over his skin.

He ought to see her again soon.

Mino lifted his wrist, inhaled with a sigh. The scent was fading. Not fast, but enough that it smelled more like him than it did like Fawn. He licked his lips, yawned with another shift of his weight. A commotion had started up, but this was hospital — there was always a commotion. The one he’d been forced to come along and see about was being handled. An old man ripe with age and ready to go. But somehow, forgetting that he’d announced he’d wanted it over and couldn’t make heads or tails of why Raven is was overseeing the end of care paperwork for the family. But it wasn’t so much the commotion as something within it. The barest trace of a scent he’d come to let seep into his very being.

His brows furrowed as he turned on his heels, decided that maybe he was thinking about Fawn too often. Too much. Decidedly not healthy, but there was no telling when the memory of her would become murky like a puddle of melted snow in the streets. But it wasn’t the state that he wanted to see her in that he did. He had no grand ideas of what their next meeting would look like. It might have very well been with her being chased down the street by a parade of cats again. But he hadn’t thought it would involve her being rushed into a hospital.

The thief might as well be in a daze. A hand lingering in his pocket, with his lips parted around a sound of confusion. Rancid. She smelled rancid. Like something had been left out to rot. Already dead, but not quite ripened in its spoiled state. Washed over by lavender and fresh-cut grass in the sun. His stomach turned.

Someone bumped into him, and he felt the distinct press of fingers into his pocket. He jerked back to attention, hand chasing after the stranger’s. A small child, likely taking advantage of the commotion. Smart; he would have done the same. He took the purse they’d attempted to lift from him, pulled out a gold coin. ”Do me a favor, and this is yours.”

Such was how he ended up with the ribbon tied haphazardly around his neck. He paced beneath the windows of the first floor, clothes handed off to Raven when she’d finally walked out of the hospital in an alley not far off. Fawn hadn’t been moved far; he could still smell her close. Even if the smell itself made his hair stand on end.

He knew it, though. Or something like. There was a familiarity to the way it soured. Not the same as in the cabaret. Not the bitter notes of her disappointment. Something stronger and worse. Something he remembered and didn’t all at once. He shook his head, continued on until the smell was the strongest.

The lavender smelled like it was sick.

The way a plant becomes too sweet. Crimson used to say that was when they were trying to let other know it was not well. A cry for help, and a warning in the same breath. If he were human, his brows would have furrowed. Instead, his ears flicked and his tail swished as he lingered under the window. There were people in there with her, voices he did not recognize and scents he couldn’t place immediately. A low rumble left him.

He pushed off. The window was open and there wasn’t much effort involved. A low jump for him. He landed on the sill, not quite shocked to find the people in the room. Fawn had seemed the type to draw a crowd, to pull people into her space. It would be no surprise that there were others there for her aside from medical personnel. It was the wolf that threw him off some. But he didn’t smell entirely like a wolf. Like a person beneath the musk of beast and he supposed there were bound to be other Rathari that would find her scent so sweet.

There was hesitance — just a moment — before Mino dropped down into the room, skirting past the wolf to get to Fawn’s side. He wasn’t here for anyone else, after all. His eyes trailed her frame, tail and ears flicking as his pupils constricted. He gave a soft trill, more to get her attention than to announce his presence, as he sat back on his haunches. His tail continued to flick, an irritated wag. He might not be aware of all the details, but he would later. Much later.

But for now, he wanted her smelling like sunshine again.