It grows cold, as we move north, and snow begins to fall from the sky, to settle on the ground, until all is white.
Now we see our path intersect with two sets of tracks, one faint from the snow cover, one almost gone, recognizable only to the sharply honed eye.
Moving further, we see the one whose tracks are the newer, and he follows with a steady, unwavering pace the set of tracks preceding him.
We move on, leaving him to his pursuit, moving along the tracks he follows.
We see ruins. She has passed through here.
Perhaps, we consider, it is wisest to wait. We will find her when he finds her.
Until then, we may wonder to ourselves about the secrets that propel him forwards, the answers that she has for him, the source of the vengeful spark in his eyes.
It is cold, and snow falls from the sky.

Cat's Cradle

the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night
and he's watching us now
with the eye
of the tiger

The sentry pulls back, unable to believe his eyes. He leans forward again, looking through his binoculars at the lone figure approaching, dark and obvious against the white snow stretching in all directions.
"Something wrong, Roque?" The half-eagle glanced at him quizzically, looking up from her magazine at the disconcerted human.

"It's her."

There was a flurry of movement in the watchtower as Saccia, the eagle, and Ruskos, the demon, stood hurriedly, shoving their chairs back and rushing over towards Roque.
"Can't be," replied Saccia, "she left in the other direction, didn't she?"
"Better safe than sorry, Kia. Shouldn't I just blast her from here?" Fire played around Ruskos' head and hands as he tried to get a better view.
Saccia looked back at him disapprovingly, then turned to see if she could identify the approaching figure.
Ruskos gave up trying to see for himself – it was too far – and prodded Roque in the arm.
"Yeah, I bet Roque'd give me hell for it – him or any other guy in town. Not that she didn't have a certain lethal charm, but still, I'd like to keep my reputation as the most destructive one around."
Roque also glared at the demon, then looked out again with his binoculars.

"Guys… it's not her. Same style of clothing, but she favored the other sword-arm. Still, it's a striking resemblance." Saccia blinked a few times, then refocused her vision. "And… I think it's a boy."

Indeed, the traveler was male, a half-siberian tiger, though it was an easy error to make – he could be the twin of the traveler who passed through before, complete with her long, flowing hair and one-sleeved shirt combined with a fishnet arm warmer, though, as Saccia had noted, his one sleeve did cover the left arm, rather than the right. If appearances were any indication, he'd be as deadly with a sword in his right hand as the other was with her left.

Ruskos nudged Roque, a manic grin on his face.
"Maybe this is your chance, eh?"
He leaned against the wall and looked out.
"I guess I won't blast him… but only as a special favor to Saccia, you understand."
Saccia's rolled up magazine hit him square in the side of the head.

-

Before long, the traveler arrived at the gate.
"I still don't think we should let him in," whispered Roque.
"It's not the same person, Roque. We have to give him the benefit of the doubt. We can't just leave him out there in the cold, can we?"
"He doesn't seem to be that disturbed by it."

"Hello!"

The three of them looked out of the gatehouse at him.
"Hello, traveler," said Roque.
"Could you open the gates for me?"
"I'm not sure that…"
"Please?"
Roque looked at the catboy's sparkling eyes for only a moment before hurriedly going to open the gate for him.
"Thanks."
"Welcome to Orren. Err," said Roque awkwardly, as Ruskos watched, leaning against the wall, awash with amusement, "might I ask who you are? I mean… someone came through here a few days ago, and…"
The catboy shook himself to rid his coat of snow – though one got the impression that he would have done it anyway - then grinned widely, holding his hand forward.

"I'm Yitzchak. Pleased to meet you."

Roque looked at the catboy for a second before realizing that a handshake was expected, and then hurriedly complied.

"Did you say that someone else had passed through here?"
"Umm. Yes. She looked… well, like you. Is she… your sister, or something..?"
"Or something. Look, it's getting kinda late, is there somewhere I can get a bed and something to eat?"
"Well, there's the Sign of the Third Eye… that inn's pretty goo-"
"You have an inn? That's so cute!"
Roque paused for a moment, dizzily. Ruskos noted that the other one had said the same thing, when she passed through. He took this moment to step in.
"Yeah, we've got an inn. Not bad, either. Here, let me show you the way. Roque, you look like you should lie down."
As Ruskos led the newcomer down the street, Yitzchak grinned to himself – his teeth pointed and sharp – and then turned with a pleasant smile on his face and winked at Roque.

Saccia, returning, passed by Yitzchak and Ruskos, then gasped.
"Roque! Your nose is bleeding! Here, let me help you…."

-

Sitting at the bar, Yitzchak broke the silence that fell upon his entrance by ordering himself a cappuccino.
"So, Ruskos, tell me about this traveler who came through before me."
"Well, you already know that she looked almost exactly like you. She came seeking rest on her journey, but… bad luck seemed to follow her. She'd smile, and fights would break out. Fires came alight, and burned the town. For a night, chaos reigned in Orren. And when, in the middle of it all, she was attacked in the center of town… no one even saw her move. There was a flash of steel, and her would-be assassin was dead."
Ruskos leaned towards Yitzchak conspiratorially.
"Of course, I saw that she wasn't just good with a sword. At the very least, she's also an accomplished weaver of glamers."
He grinned.
"So where do you fit in to all of this? Another assassin? An accomplice? What?"
The catboy shifted uncomfortably.
"We knew each other some time ago. I have some questions for her. I'd… rather not discuss it."
"Fine with me. Sounds intriguing, though. She was the most interesting thing to happen to this place in a while."
"… I think I should get some sleep."
Ruskos watched as Yitzchak left for his room, then turned back to the bar. A pensive expression came across his features, and he slowly stood and left the inn.

-

Early the next morning, before sunrise, Yitzchak left Orren silently and unnoticed, by all save one.
Ruskos sat on a rooftop, watching the catboy recede into the distance, his knees pulled up to his chest.
"Well," he mused to himself, "why not? It certainly seems more interesting than anything that's likely to happen here. And I'm sure he'll be glad for companionship. Such a long time for silent introspection can't be healthy."
The demon stood slowly, stretched in the predawn twilight, and allowed his wings to unfold. They were like black velvet - it was as though the night had said no, I do not wish to end, and formed itself into a cloak to grant him flight.

He leapt into the air, and swooped away from Orren.
The sun began to crawl across the rooftops in his wake.

-

"So you've decided to come with me."
"That's right. It looked like you needed some company, and besides, I couldn't let such an opportunity for excitement pass me by."
"It will be dangerous."
"Heh. There's not a lot that can hurt me. Plus, for all your subtle magics – I can see you're a glamer-weaver, like her – you can't deny the utility of the ability to, occasionally, raze everything in sight. To be honest, I'm itching to get a chance to use my fire-magic in actual combat, apart from its obvious and manifold uses in interpersonal communication. There will be fighting, won't there? That seems fairly likely."
"Undoubtedly. And perhaps you're right – it would be better to have someone to talk to."
Yitzchak smiled, then suddenly stepped forward and hugged the demon. After a moment, he released Ruskos, then turned and began walking forward again.
"Now, we must continue. We're getting closer…."
Ruskos looked at him with an expression of amusement and mild confusion – and then followed.

-

They traveled for several days through the snow, seeing no sign of civilization, sleeping at night around a demon-conjured fire. They spoke of many things, of the nature of the world, of grand theories and sweeping plans, but never of the one they pursued, which was the subject that Ruskos could see weighed most heavily upon Yitzchak's thoughts. But they were indeed getting closer, ever closer.

And then, one night, as they were about to make camp, a fire flickered alight ahead of them. Moving closer, they saw a single figure crouched beside it.

"It's…"
Yitzchak silenced and stayed Ruskos by holding his hand out behind him, as he slowly began to walk, alone, towards the fire.

It was true – she could have been his mirror image.

She smiled as he approached, then looked up at him. He was the one who spoke, his expression unreadable.

"Itsuka.

There is much that I would know."