Expect the Unexpected

***Correlates with Chapter 6 in One Lie***

Reaching the cabin, Margus let out a sigh of relief. He wanted nothing more than to fill his stomach and attempt to decipher the book that he technically stole from his mother's trove. "Borrowed..."

...Yes... that he technically borrowed...

Upon opening the cabin door, Margus had entered an empty and rummaged room. Inside, he immediately noticed the girl's presence was gone, including the loaf of bread his stomach was anticipating for. Looking around the room, Margus determined there were no signs of a struggle; the girl must have left of her own accord. Letting out a low grumble of frustration, Margus said a prayer to the loaf that didn't stand a chance. Nevertheless, he wasn't surprised about her absence. He just hadn't expected her to leave so soon. She was displaying signs of fear and worry, perhaps he should have spoken to her? Alas, it was too late to worry about it, it was no longer his business. It was easier this way; no one to slow him down, and one less person for him to worry about...

Unknowingly, Margus's eyes began turning gold. His jowl grinding in disappointment. The wind began picking up and Lightning struck through the skies as if in correlation to his displeasure... the air though became dank, something was amiss. Breathing in, Margus shifted, wary of his surroundings. He tensed then relaxed his body, placing himself in a stance while grasping the hilt of his sword. Listening intently, he caught whim of nothing, but the hairs on his neck stood on end. In response to this strangeness, he released his blade from its scabbard, and in doing so exhaled with controlled breath. The sword, now facing in front of him, resonated. Flames grew at the guard and stretched to the tip of the blade. Focusing on the flames, Margus was reassured all was as it should be. "What is going on?" he said to himself puzzled. He straightened himself, whipping his sword beside him, and then slowly returning it to its scabbard. Looking around, the fireplace grew dim with burning embers.

Out of curiosity, Margus walked towards his bed of pelts. Catching site of the rumpled mess, his temper began to slowly rise; chest heaving all the more the closer he came. "She couldn't have..." Margus murmured. His pelts had been displaced, and the object hidden within gone. His right eye began twitching due to his disbelief and anger. The object was a wooden box he had stolen from his mother's trove. "Borrowed..."

The object Margus had borrowed held within it a precious stone along with a letter he had written, but had no recollection of ever having done so. Memories of the box and stone were also nonexistent. There was no time to waste. There was a pull he had towards that stone. He knew it was important to completing his journey, and now it was stolen from him.

"Damn it!" Margus sped off from the cabin, rage building up, and a thirst to get his hands on that woman.