Story (c) Hikage Stinkdawg 2004

Why did he hurt so much? Was that all his life really was: A series of painful memories? No, he remembered happy times. They were times with Tireal by his side when they used to have fun on the Jolly Dodger, until money became an issue. Was there really a point in his life when he was truly happy? He was happy when he saw her for the first time. But was that really happiness or just an excuse to have something to live for? Was Tireal an excuse too? Quint remembered times in his life when he wished he had never put the damned pendant around his neck.

There were times he wanted to undo that horrid vial’s healing power, times when he just wanted to die… just like everyone else could. He just wanted to be normal. That’s why he cried on the schoolyard, why he loved her when he could never have her, why he took in Tireal, and why he became captain of his own ship.

Could someone like him lead a truly normal life? Everywhere around him was death. He watched his friends die all around him, watched his family die as well. His sister, three years younger than he, had passed on due to heart failure at the ripe age of 96. His best friends from youth all died as well. He was alone in this world. That was why he tried to make excuses for himself. He hated life. He hated living while others died. Why should they get to enjoy the peace of death when it was forbidden to him?

"I’m alone." The thought was a clear sound in his head that reverberated in the darkness.

Nothing would change that. He would always be alone. No one could keep an immortal company except another immortal.

"I’m alone."

Tireal could not help him. She could not help him. No one could help him.

"I’m… alone… so alone…"

***

The jealousy and pain returned in a torrent of emotion and feeling, disrupting his thoughts. He wasn’t alone. The pain kept him company in this black void. Nothing else was permanent, but it seemed the pain, regret, jealousy, and sorrow remained: burned into his soul. They had the strongest memories. They would always win out over his other emotions because they held the most sway.

A thought: "I hate."

He had felt love once. Or what he thought was love. But it had been a fleeting moment, not even worth a second glance.

And another: "I hate her."

He had felt joy once. Or what he thought was joy.

But it was of trivial matters, which lost all relevance in the greater scheme of things.

They invaded his mind: I hate…myself."

He had felt friendship once. Or what he thought was friendship, until his so-called ‘friends’ showed him how loyal they really were.

They attacked his logic and brought new tears: "I hate…them all."

He had felt happiness once.

"I hate…" There was a pause in the pain and tears.

Yes… it was happiness wasn’t it. That was something to cling to, a rock in the turbulent rapids of his emotions. He had been happy many times in his life.

Even though it was usually a fleeting happiness, it was still happiness nonetheless. His life always took new turns when he was least expecting it to: the fire that consumed his parents, which he was blamed for; the other boy that took his woman; friends that played him for a fool. All of these he knew had hurt him deeply. They were wounds which would probably never heal.

"I’m tired of hating."

Quint's eyes drooped tiredly.

"I’m tired of running."

His eyelids started to slowly close on all of the memories replaying through his mind.

"I’m… tired."

He didn’t need to be normal. He was who he was. And if there was a problem with that, he wouldn’t be who he was in the first place.

Pain, Fear, Jealousy, and Regret took a breather.

Happiness and sleep took their place.

Quint closed his eyes, a smile plastered on his muzzle.

Everything would work itself out, given time.

***

The hyena awoke with a start. He was staring up at the wooden ceiling of a small hospital bedroom. He

turned his head to look around the room and winced as a sharp pain slid along his left temple.

"Hello pain, my old friend," he whispered.

The room was white. Save the ceiling and floor, which were brown hardwood. A small lamp sat on a bedside table to his right along with a small clock. Also on the table were his two pistols and their holsters. He wasn’t a military prisoner or in jail, then. His eyes continued to wander as he ignored pain’s insistence on his left temple. Two chairs sat on the opposite side of the room from him in which sat a sleeping Tireal and a rat soldier. The rat eyed him cautiously as if Quint was going to jump up and use his guns at any moment. Quint paid the rat no mind and looked to the small sink and mirror that Tireal rested his elbows on as he slept. It was nice of them to house and heal him. Like this, after all, the rat woman could have just left him to die and been done with it, unless of course the bounty on the hyena’s head was only good if he was alive. Oh well, he was sure both he and Tireal would find out soon enough why there was a bounty on their heads.

Quint yawned tiredly and closed his eyes again, falling into sleep.