"Since we have no clue what your name is, how about you settle for a temporary name for the meantime?" The healer suggested, his tone practical. "It would be far easier than addressing you as ’stranger.’"
The silver-haired stranger frowned, considering the point.
As much as he hated the idea of adopting a placeholder identity, trying to exist in complete anonymity was bound to be exhausting. He needed something to go by.
But what?
Before either of them could brainstorm for a name, the heavy entrance flap suddenly lifted. Both beastmen turned simultaneously as Elowyn slipped into the shelter. She held a bundle of dried herbs and wooden storage pots, intending to stow them away in her usual quiet corner.
However, the moment she crossed the threshold, she froze. Both pairs of eyes– one cool amber, and the other an intense, piercing gold, were fixed entirely on her.
She blinked, hugging the wooden pots to her chest.
Did she interrupt something?
"Ah, Elowyn," the healer chimed in smoothly, breaking the sudden silence. "You arrived just in time. We were just debating a name for our guest. Since he cannot remember his own, he’ll require a temporary title. Any suitable suggestions in mind?"
Elowyn carefully set the wooden pots and bundled herbs at their respective corners, keeping her back turned just long enough to gather an appropriate response.
"I don’t see how it matters," she replied candidly, dusting off her hands. "Shouldn’t that be his choice to make? He probably has a preference in mind already. We should simply call him whatever he desires."
Her unwillingness to be a part of their conversation, set the stranger’s ego on fire. He scoffed inwardly.
"I have no preferences," he interjected smoothly, pinning her with a sly, deliberate stare. "Which brings us back to you. What do you think?"
"Well, what about the healer?" she insisted, promptly shifting her gaze to the fox beastman. "He hasn’t dropped any names yet."
"If his creativity extended to naming strangers, he wouldn’t have passed the task to you, would he?" The silver-haired male countered without missing a beat.
The fox healer’s ears flattened back in offended annoyance as he took the unexpected stray hit.
Elowyn stroked her temple, realizing the stranger made sense. But he was being surprisingly pushy about this whole thing. Why was a grown man demanding her validation over a name?
She narrowed her eyes at him, and suddenly, a logical explanation clicked in her mind.
Oh, poor thing.
It all made sense now.
He wasn’t trying to be difficult, he was simply helpless. He couldn’t think of a name because his mind was blank! The fever and the impact of his consciousness must have scrambled his mind terribly.
Of course!
A sudden pang of maternal melted her irritation. If he was looking to her for guidance, she couldn’t disappoint him. In fact, she would take this duty very seriously. She actually had a knack for naming things. Enjoying the story? Read on at novelping.com.
"Alright then," she said at last, taking her seat beside the healer and crossing her legs. She critically inspected his sleek silver hair, his alabaster skin, and the stubborn scowl gracing his absurdly handsome face.
"Since your hair is so bright and shiny...what do you think about Snowy?"
The stranger’s eyebrows twitched.
Snowy?
What kind of name was that?!
Did he look like a domestic pet to her?!
Before he could voice his indignation, Elowyn snapped her fingers, her expression lighting up with another idea. "No wait! How about Frosty? Or iceberg? Oh! Icicle!"
Elowyn looked immensely proud, clearly feeling a sense of deep accomplishment. To her left, the fox beastman had buried his face in his wide sleeve, his shoulders trembling with silent, unholy amusement.
A thick vein throbbed near the stranger’s temple. His brilliant plan to force her conversation had backfired catastrophically. He had anticipated a proper, dignified name, or at the very least, something respectable! Instead, she was throwing out names fit for a livestock farm.
What kind of names were those?!
She had to be playing with him. He refused to believe anyone could be this utterly hopeless at naming a normal being.
"Do I resemble a block of ice to you?" he growled, trying to contain himself.
Elowyn tilted her head, offering him a look of pure, logical innocence. "Well... technically speaking, you were a block of ice when I found you."
A heavy, stunned silence descended upon the shelter.
Did she just...?
The sheer nerve of this woman...
The stranger closed his eyes, inhaling a long, deep breath through his nose to keep his sanity intact. He had cornered her to force her attention onto him, not to be turned into a laughingstock!
He opened his eyes, pinning her with an uncompromising glare.
"If this is the extent of your intellect, I’d rather stay nameless."
Elowyn huffed, folding her arms across her chest. "You begged for my opinion."
"How about something a little less seasonal?" The healer offered.
Elowyn snapped her fingers again, her blue eyes lighting up with sudden clarity.
"Ares," she said firmly.
Both men fixed their gazes on her.
"Why Ares?" the stranger asked suspiciously.
"Because, in my tribe, Ares is the dark obsidian stone embedded deep in the highest mountain cliffs," she explained, her posture straightening with cultural pride. "It is cold, sharp, and unbreakable. The storm can blow for a hundred years, but the stone never falters. Ares sounds fitting, doesn’t it?"
"Ares," the healer repeated slowly, testing the sound on his tongue. "Ares sounds good. It’s simple, short and easy to remember."
The stranger, now named Ares, turned his head away with a subtle scoff. "I suppose being named after a ’stone’ will suffice. Afterall, it is only temporary."
"Since we already have that sorted, I have to continue my packing," the healer said, getting back up to his feet. "There is still so much to be done before sunrise."
As the fox healer slipped out, Ares noticed how the quiet light in Elowyn’s eyes dimmed. She stared at the closed leather flap, her shoulders slumping just a fraction as a subtle shadow fell over her features.
Ares narrowed his eyes, unable to stop himself from prying. "Why the grave face? He is only leaving. It is not as if he’s dying."
Elowyn blinked, coming back to her senses. "I know," she murmured softly, shifting her gaze to the cold floor. "I will just... miss him. That’s all."
Ares let out a dry, disbelieving breath. "Why will you miss him? You have known him for what, like a few weeks? Days?"
"It may mean little to you," she replied. "But he is the first person in these frozen mountains who offered me kindness. It has been so long since I was treated like a normal person, I suppose I am foolishly worried I will never know what it feels like again."
Ares stilled.
Whatever sarcastic retort he had planned to deliver died on his throat. For a fleeting second, a strange, uncomfortable pang prickled at his chest, constricting his heart and leaving him utterly speechless.
He actually considered saying something comforting. Something to ease her sorrow. But she suddenly lifted her head and locked eyes with him.
Misinterpreting his stunned silence for deep sympathy, Elowyn’s face softened into a look of heartfelt compassion.
"Oh, don’t look so concerned, Ares," she assured him, her tone completely sincere and encouraging. "I promise, when you finally recover and go on your way, I won’t miss you in the slightest."
The air in the shelter turned to ice.
Ares sat frozen, his golden eyes blown wide in absolute, horrifying disbelief. He could literally hear his ego shattering to a thousand pieces.
Pleased with herself for easing his apparent anxiety, Elowyn gave a polite nod, stood up, and strolled out into the snow.