The ride was smooth, but by no means pleasant. Every stop was another spike of fear, the threat of discovery looming until the car picked up speed once again. Nothing but that fear occupied her mind until something else bit at her; the ache in her stomach. Only now did Gestal realize she had skipped out on both Caesar's pasta the night before and whatever he had cooked several nights beforehand. Being a beastperson, her regular intake was greater than a human's and there was no telling how long the ride would take.

Gestal sniffed the air. Through the sting of the cold, a there was a faint hint of smoke and salt. She pierced one of the boxes beside her with her claws and yanked out the contents, just barely able to make out the shape of the paper packaging. It was beef jerky, enough to last a week.

Without a second thought, Gestal tore open the package and wolfed down its contents. She then reached for another and did the same. Then another, on and on, not stopping until she had gone through seven packs.

Her stomach no longer bothering her, Gestal now gulped at the consequences of stealing their food. She dug into her pocket and tossed a few bills into the half-empty box before curling back up in her cloak.

With the ride having gone on long enough to quell any fear of discovery and the jerky having satisfied her stomach, Gestal was left alone with her thoughts. Caesar and Larkin were sure to have recovered by now, furious at their loss. She imagined Caesar lamenting the loss of his shop, possibly forced to move out of Eiswald to start anew.
A snide grin crept onto her lips at the very thought. He deserved it for all the nights he tried to tell her what to do, all his lies and slander against Ozwald, all his unwanted attempts at being friendly.

But the satisfaction did not last long. For all he said, Caesar had given her a home when no one else would. Even after years of living together, every night he had a new suggestion, a new place they could go or a new show they could listen to on the radio. He never stopped trying, but she just spat in his face.

Gestal wished she could apologize to him, to Larkin for poisoning him, to Johnny for breaking his leg, to the passengers for stealing their food, to everyone for existing.

Rolling onto her other side, Gestal felt her watch shift. She grabbed it and ran her thumbs over the engravings, able to visualize the crow in the darkness. The crows of Eiswald always caught her interest. They reminded her so much of him.

Even now she could clearly recall the confusion that was one day waking up alone, how quickly it turned to anger, and how quickly that anger turned to despair. Hours she spent screaming his name to no answer. His promise that he would find her no matter what, a promise that was etched into the very watch he gave her, was her only comfort from that day on.

Night after sleepless night passed by. She would imagine being in his arms upon his return, showering him with both love and hate, ranting endlessly over how he left without a word.

But it wasn't right to be angry. Ozwald wouldn't throw away their fifteen years at the drop of a hat. After all, he was the mysterious type. He could have disappeared for a number of reasons. None of them could have been of his own volition. He could have been kidnapped or unjustly arrested. He wasn't able to find her.

So she would find him.

The more Gestal thought of Ozwald, the more she wanted to kick herself for jumping in the trunk. She was a survivalist, out of practice but a survivalist nonetheless. Even through the years of isolation in Caesar's spare room, she remembered everything Ozwald taught her. Eiswald was just a maze, no more threatening in terrain or fauna than any other forest they had traveled through. She could have conquered it without a map. She could have.

Gestal hugged her watch to her chest, "I'll find you...I promise I'll find you..."

---

Guitar in this track provided by Enny Gima.