A Clean Slate

Elio could no longer feel his fingers.

"Iraaseng," he hissed, folding his hands into tight fists. Even a fool could recognize that he sorely underestimated the cruelty of the Sempiterne Groves.

And if any fool dared to say so, Elio would break their jaw with his freezing, numb, goddess damned hands.

The young hunter paused to warm his limbs and scan the terrain. Elms towered around him like swarthy prison guards, their skeletal talons reaching into the plum-splattered sky. Feathers of snow slipped from the air, blanketing the forest in deafening silence. 

It was almost peaceful if Elio forgot what became of creatures that lingered too long in winter's embrace—lifeless ice statues, still as stone and as hard as rock.

The mere thought of that fate pressed him forward. "The more ground I cover," he grated through rattling teeth, "the more creatures I can uncover." Elio had to find some beast here—no one at the markets had hunted near Sempiterne for weeks. 

Perhaps the animals are partaking in the seasonal festivities, he considered dryly. But this far away from the nearest settlement, even he did not know when the new year would begin. 

He would get a hounding from his mother for neglecting the annual rituals; that much was certain. But Sierra could compensate for his absence, and even then it wouldn't—

Snap.

He stilled. 

Just a few lengths ahead, a four-limbed silhouette ambled between the trees. 

Elio fell into his familiar routine as if it were a dance. He delicately curled his body behind an elm, steadying his breathing as if to keep time. He swept his arms behind him, gently clasping the bow and arrows on his back. A port de bras guided Elio's precious tools to his chest.

He listened to the soft crunch of snow as the animal wandered a few more paces. He dared to steal a glance.

The creature had paused to sniff the bark of a scrawny tree, turning its head just so that holy goddesses—

 A synthetoceras. Holy goddesses, a real synthetoceras. There was no mistaking the magnificent y-shaped horn that rested upon the majestic beast's snout. 

Elio tugged the gloves from his hands, biting back his excitement. He willed his frozen fingers to move freely—goddesses, a synthetoceras!—as he coaxed his arrow shaft to hone in on the creature's eye. 

He sucked in a soft, icy breath. Steady, now. Just—

"Ehox!" 

The shrill exclamation reverberated across the trees like light off a mirror. 

The synthetoceras darted, and Elio reeled around, stupefied. 

The shout had come from a nearby snowbank. Elio's ears twitched at the rustling noise that accompanied it. The movement sounded large. It sounded human.

Now Elio began to feel what Sierra called his "diesel heart" blaze.

"You think this is funny?" He growled, launching himself towards the snowbank, "sneaking around, frightening off people's hunts, huh? How would you like this shaft between your eyes you little—"

Instead of an urchin, Elio found himself grabbing the hair of a shocked young woman.

"Salzhyn gerrt!" he shouted, letting go of her as if she were a pile of animal entrails. The girl tumbled backward with a cry. She was clearly no hunter: no hunter would find themselves in that position. 

Elio would dare to say no hunter would find themselves surprised either, but he was finding himself rather flabbergasted at the moment.

Instead of traditional furs and packs, the girl wore an impossibly thin, white gown that just skimmed the top of her bare feet. Her bronze skin was coated with freckles and snow; a curtain of obsidian hair served as her only shield against the brutal winter wind.

It was a miracle the girl had not already frozen to death.

But what stuck out most to Elio was the large gray blindfold bound tightly over her eyes.

"Excuse me," she cried out, her hands desperately patting the ground around her. "Might you help me stand?"

Never in a million years would Elio have thought up a scenario like...whatever this was.

"I-I suppose," he stuttered in shock. He clasped the girl's elbow and helped her rise. Once she was confident that her body was steady, the girl began to dust the snow from her dress. Elio had no idea what to say or do next.

"You scared away my hunt," he blurted.

The girl pursed her lips. 

"My apologies," she spoke slowly.

"Oh." Perhaps berating the underdressed girl was not the way to go. 

"Here, uh," he clamored to take off his capote. "Take this." 

Elio could imagine the girl furrowing her eyebrows underneath her blindfold. "Take what?"

"It's a type of cloak," Elio explained, undoing the clasp. "You must be freezing?"

"Fr-eee-zing," the girl sounded out slowly. 

Elio waited for her to elaborate, lamely holding out the capote for her to take. The girl did not move.

The vicious bite of yet another bitter winter wind pushed him to throw decorum aside. He lifted his arms to place the cloak over the girl's head—

"No, thank you," she abruptly said. "I am not cold." 

"How can you not be cold?" Elio challenged, crossing his arms over his chest. The girl did not respond. Elio sighed.

"At least let me take off your blindfold," he reasoned. The girl jumped back, nearly tripping over a crooked tree root.

"No! No, you mustn't!" She cried, arms flailing.

"Alright, alright, I won't!" Elio yielded, lifting his arms into a surrender position. The girl sighed in relief, mumbling to herself as she tightened the cloth over her eyes.

The more this went on, the more confused Elio became. "Are you a pilgrim?" he asked. 

The girl tilted her head.

"Of sorts. I suppose so, yes."

So she wasn't the elaborating type.

"Well," Elio announced, tugging his capote back over his body. "If you do not require any more help, then I need to find my synthetoceras." 

"Synthetoceras?" The girl asked.

"My hunt," Elio sizzled.

"Ah," she hummed. Elio waited for her to continue, maybe even apologize again. She did not. Very well then.

"I'm going to—"

"Do you know of a good place to wait?" The girl tipped her head expectantly. 

Elio blinked in disbelief. 

"Sorry, to wait?"

"Yes," she churred, clasping her hands over the front of her dress. "I fear I am early."

"What could you possibly be early—goddesses, here for?" Elio sputtered. "Do you know how far from civilization we are?"

The girl used her fingers to pick the snow out of her hair, ignoring his question. Elio leaned his head back, huffing an exasperated sigh.

"In that direction," he pointed. "You won't be able to see it with your, well, with that thing over your eyes, but there's a flat rock ledge back a couple lengths. I'll lead you there."

The girl's lips curved upward into a grateful smile.

"Thank you," she expressed quietly. "Your kindness is most appreciated."

Elio hummed in response. He lightly tapped the girl's elbow and guided her through the grove.

Besides the occasional "watch your step" and "how much farther?" there was not much for them to say.

Elio had no idea if there was anything to say at all. The girl was not very forthcoming in her answers. It would be impolite to ask if she was in one of those mountain cults. Perhaps he could inquire about her mystical-like cold resistance or—

"The new year begins tomorrow." The girl's soft voice sliced through his mulling thoughts.

It took Elio a moment to realize she was addressing him. 

"Well," he countered, "I suppose it has hundreds of times before."

"Oh, for millennia," she hummed in agreement.

"I don't see why it requires much thought then," Elio huffed. "Mind your step, by the way."

"Thank you," the girl breathed, "but why shouldn't one herald the new cycle of time? Beginnings are always important."

"It is never really a true beginning, though," Elio clucked. "Debts carry over from the year before; food counts remain the same. Life continues as it has. The new year is the farthest thing from a clean slate."

"I suppose," the girl remarked, grasping at the side of her dress, "and yet—"

"There's the ledge," Elio interrupted. There was only so much foolishness he was willing to endure. He brushed the snow off the rock and helped the girl lower herself into a sitting position.

"Ah, perfect," she nodded, lightly tapping the rocky shelf. Elio stepped a few paces back.

"And you are quite certain you are not cold?" He asked. The girl beamed.

"Yes, that will not come for some time, I think."

"'I think?'" Elio scoffed. "Goddesses, you are quite the enigma, aren't you?" 

The girl's forehead wrinkled.

"Perhaps," she reasoned, "but I think you are mistaken about the new year."

"Well, we are each entitled to our own opinions, hmm?" Elio delineated. 

"Yes," the girl nodded. She went silent again. Elio took this as his cue to leave and shifted his feet. The soft tap against the rock did not go unheeded.

"Would you accompany me for a little while?" She implored. Elio thought it was eerie that even with a blindfold on, the girl's eyes still seemed to find his gaze.

"I'm...early, you see," she attempted to elaborate. "It's not my turn yet." 

"Ah, I see," Elio pretended to understand. My synthetoceras is probably lengths away by now, he noted.

So he sat down next to the girl.

"What is your name?" He asked. The girl shook her head.

"I do not have one yet. I shall discover it soon enough, however. It is just a matter of time."

"Ah, of course." He pretended to understand.

Silence.

"What is your name?" She reciprocated. 

"Elio."

"El-ee-o."

"Yes, like that."

The girl drew her legs up to her chest.

"Perhaps, Elio, in some ways, the new year is not so 'new,' as you say." 

So there was no escaping this conversation. Elio sighed. "But in the other ways you appear to be considering?" 

"The tangible remains the same," the girl replied. "Money, food, people. But the human spirit, that renews."

"The human spirit does not put food on the table," Elio sneered bitterly.

"And neither do hope nor prayers," the girl countered. "But those things produce the fuel for change." Elio's mind drifted back to his family's rituals. 

"Yet every year is still no different than the rest," he appealed. "Perhaps in small ways, but that's all." 

The girl smiled sweetly. "No change is ever small. To alter how one interacts with the world—that is a monumental feat indeed."

"And the new year," she continued, a dreamy expression on her face, "is the day when even the stoic forces of time whispers to us: 'yes, yes you can change.'" The girl tilted her head towards Elio, a large grin on her face. "I am happy I asked you to stay. What a difference that shall make!" 

Elio could not help but chuckle. "Perhaps it will. I am already one hunt less, after all." 

The girl nodded, twirling her fingers. 

"Why do you wear that blindfold?" Elio queried. She lightly tapped the gray cloth over her eyes.

"I remember everything I see...everything that occurs, it determines what I become."

Elio traced his finger along the rock's cracks. 

"Yes, that I understand."

"The problem is," the girl frowned, "I am not supposed to see yet. I'm early." 

"And I suppose you still won't tell me who or what it is you are waiting for?" Elio contended. The girl shook her head.

With that, their conversation lulled to a rest. Elio settled restfully into the comfortable silence. The snow continued to fall, gliding onto the palm of his hand. He watched the fragile crystals transform into weeping tears.

Funny. Change really was everywhere.

So perhaps he could change as well.

"Elio," the girl breathed. He felt her finger lightly lace the side of his arm. "Could you promise me something?"

"If you so desire," he conceded. The girl gave his shoulder a light squeeze as she stood up. 

"Could you do your best," she started, her blindfold peering into his eyes, "could you do your best to endeavor that your heart is in the right place? To help me become the best I can be?" 

Elio stood up, perplexed. "Yes, I-of course. You have my word. But how does that—" 

The girl pointed to the trees. "I believe that is your synthetoceras."

"My synthetoceras?" Elio whirled around. Sure enough, he saw a familiar creature move through the elms.

"Goddesses, so it is," he muttered, wonderstruck. "But how did you s—" Elio turned to ask the girl.

But she was gone.

"Hello?" He shouted, looking around. Wherever she had gone, she had left no new footprints in the snow. "Where did you—" Elio's eyes landed on the ground. Where the girl had once stood laid her gray blindfold, undone, sprawled out on the ledge.

Elio reached down and gently lifted up the piece of cloth. He couldn't help but chuckle. Enigma after enigma.

He folded the blindfold and slipped it delicately into his pocket. He needed to retrieve his bow and arrows; he had left them by that snowbank a few lengths back. Elio spied his old footprints and proceeded to follow their guidance.

But not before turning his eyes to the sky, where the snow and stars coalesced, to softly reaffirm his promise.

"Happy new year."