There was a great deal to be said for wandering the world on one’s own. The first thing to be said was that you kept your own schedule. The second was that you did what you wanted to without having to hear a dozen reasons why not.
        The blue-skinned youth looked out towards the collection of buildings with clear blue eyes. Drawing his hood up over his head, he sighed and headed into the village. One drawback to being alone was that when he needed supplies, he had to go get them himself.

        Standing at the edge of town, he looked around, seeing the typical types of stores usually found in little towns that popped up on roads frequented by travelers. This little town was no different, a tavern filled with boisterous mercenaries, a magic supply shop, and a general merchant’s store.
        He headed for the general store, hoping that the prices weren’t too high. He was running low on coin, and would soon have to find some sort of work. Finding work, however, was easier said than done for him, largely due to his appearance.
        Inside the store, he relaxed slightly at the prices. Not too bad, considering. He selected his supplies carefully, adding the cost in his head as he went. The waybread was a little more than he expected it to be, but he really couldn’t complain.
        He walked up to the counter, setting his selections down and looking down as he counted out his estimated cost. The clerk started to note the selections on the sales tally, and absently asked him if that was all for him.
        He blinked, lost his count of coins and looked halfway up. “Excuse me?”
        “I asked if you needed anything else?” Her voice was familiar, and his train of thought skipped the tracks as he looked at her.
        He reached out, grabbing her wrist and stared at her. “Lina?”
        Crimson eyes blinked at him, and then the redhead screamed.

        It took Zelgadis completely by surprise when she started to scream, and he hastily released her wrist, stepping backwards and apologizing profusely. An uncomfortably large and heavy hand fell on his shoulder, and a booming voice asked him precisely what his intentions were with his daughter.
        Daughter? What sort of nightmare had he fallen into? “I… I thought that I knew her. She… looks like someone I know. If you’ll just let go… I’ll leave.” He turned, twisting himself out of that heavy-handed grasp and moving for the door.
        “Wait,” the voice that was and was not Lina’s called out. “You… know me? I mean, you know someone who looks like me?”
        He drew the hood of his cloak closer to his face. “I was mistaken. Forgive my intrusion.” He made haste in exiting the store, heading out towards the road. He’d get supplies somewhere else.
        Something caught the edge of his cloak, and he spun to see the girl from the store. She was wearing a long brown skirt and a white blouse, red hair pulled back from her face in a braid. One hand trembled at her throat, the other holding fast to his cloak. Before he could step backwards, she moved, her free hand reaching out and knocking the hood of his cloak back. Brilliant red eyes widened, and she caught her breath.
        “I… I know you… don’t I?” She asked, looking at him. “I know you somehow…”
        He blinked in confusion as the man who was seemingly her father walked up to them. “Amy… let him go. Don’t worry. It will all come back to you in time.”
        All come back…? “Excuse me, but how do you know me?” Zelgadis asked quietly.
        The girl who looked like Lina but had been called Amy shook her head. “I don’t know. But… I know you somehow. It’s like we met… a long time ago…”
        “You have to excuse her. She has not been well,” the man said to Zelgadis.
        “Please stay for dinner?” She asked Zelgadis before turning to her father. “Father, let him stay. Maybe… maybe he’s someone I do know. From… before.”
        Zelgadis opened his mouth, but the man replied first. “Well, dinner is the least I can do to apologize for startling you in the store. Come on, son.” He turned, catching the girl’s small hand up in his large one and started to lead the way.
        Son…? If it weren’t for the fact that she looked so much like Lina, he would have hit the road. But there was something about her… something he couldn’t place his finger on…
        With a shrug, the chimera followed the merchant and his… daughter.

        Dinner was uncanny, Zelgadis decided. Amy had eaten everything in sight, though not nearly as messily or chaotically as Lina would have. She looked like Lina, but reminded him more of Sylphiel. It was incredibly unnerving.
        “So… traveler,” Amy’s father began. “What’s your name, and where are you going?”
        Zelgadis sipped at his coffee, eyes half-closed. As he started to set the cup down, he replied quietly. “My name is Zelgadis. As for my destination…” His voice trailed off. He didn’t really –have- a destination, did he?
        “Hmf. That’s Zel for you. Ask him a question, and you practically have to beat the answer out of him. One of these days, he’s going to give us all a real answer and we won’t believe him. Of course, he could be as bad as Xellos with his ‘that’s a secret line…’” A loud clatter interrupted Amy, and she looked up in confusion. “Huh?”
        Both Zelgadis and her father were staring at her. The coffee cup lay on the table where Zelgadis had dropped it, coffee sinking into the tablecloth.
        Flustered, Amy immediately rose, gathering up the dishes and fled into the kitchen. Zelgadis moved to follow, but the large hand of her father rested on his shoulder again. “Let her go. I’d rather talk to you without her for a moment.”
        Zelgadis turned to the man, narrowed his eyes, but nodded. At the silent beckons, he followed the man on into another room.

        “She may be who you think she is,” the man started without preamble. “A mercenary brought her into town about a year ago. They both looked pretty bad, and the mercenary must have been on his feet by will alone. She wasn’t as hurt as he was, though. We got her through okay, but he didn’t live the night.”
        Zelgadis took a breath and held it. “The mercenary… was he blonde?” At the man’s nod, he continued, every confirmation from the merchant causing his stomach to sink lower and lower. “Blue eyes, blue and black armor?”
        The merchant opened a desk drawer, pulling out a leather pouch. He tossed it easily to Zelgadis, who caught it and looked at the tooled leather. Even before he read the tooled initials, he knew this had belonged to Gourry. As his eyes traced the interlocked ‘G’s, the merchant nodded. “You knew him, then.”
        “Gourry Gabriev,” Zelgadis said, closing his eyes for a moment. A thousand questions ran through his mind. How in the world could Gourry be dead? What could have possibly been strong enough to defeat both Lina and Gourry? “Where…” He paused to collect himself, opening his eyes and offering the pouch back. “Where is he buried?”
        The merchant waved away the pouch. “You keep it. You knew him, son. I didn’t, but I know he was a good man. They gave him a proper burial in the churchyard. Amy goes every night about this time. Maybe she’ll let you go too.”
        Just then, the sound of the front door closing echoed through the room, and the merchant looked to him. “You’d best go catch up if you want to go with her.”
        Zelgadis spun, clutching the pouch, and left the room.

        She walked quietly and quickly through the town, Zelgadis following her at a respectable distance. Once in the churchyard, he hung back to see where she was going, but he had little desire to interrupt her. As he watched, she knelt at a grave, tracing letters on the marker. His supernatural hearing picked up her words, and he felt ill at ease, as if he was spying on her.
        “Why did you have to die… you were my only link… what happened? I can’t remember… I don’t even know your name…”
        Zelgadis walked silently up behind her, and only after she turned to look at him did he speak. “His name was Gourry Gabriev.”
        “Gourry…” she whispered, looking back at the grave marker with the interlocked ‘G’s carved on it.
        He saw the tears start to fall and backed up. “I’m sorry…” He shouldn’t have interrupted her.
        “Please… don’t leave me. You… know who I am. I don’t know how… but I know you. I don’t remember what happened… I don’t know who I am. I’ve been here a whole year and I still don’t know…” She sat there, eyes on the ground, tears falling slowly. “In the store… when you called me that name… something echoed it. It felt… right.”
        The empty desperation in her voice, the imagery of her sitting in front of Gourry’s grave… it all threatened to break the walls of stone around his heart. Rallying himself, he looked at her. “Let’s go back. We can talk there.”
        She looked up to see his offered hand, and took it quietly, rising to her feet and following him out of the graveyard.