When Noishe had feathers instead of fur, and perched on Kratos' shoulder instead of curling up by his side, he would watch how Martel and Mithos slept. Their group could never find proper lodgings – comprised of three half-elves, a disgraced Tethe'allan knight, and a strange bird that stole portions of Kratos' meals whenever possible. So like most nights, they found a place underneath the stars, building a crude campfire, relying on its warmth, for they had lost most of their packs to rabid wolves earlier that day.

Even back then, Kratos had insisted on taking first watch, one that Yuan would always counter against. Noishe had not been Yuan's most favorite animal, his talons making shreds of a section of the half-elf's cape. Or leaving little surprises in his hair whenever he hitched a ride on Yuan's own shoulders. "I hate birds," Yuan had grumbled, fumbling with his hair knot as Martel laughed. Kratos had never punished Noishe for it. Mithos himself seem pleased with the bird.

That boy was resting now, shivering still, with Martel's arm over him as his head laid in her lap. She sat up against a rock formation, body half-curved over her younger brother. The fire cast moving shadows over both their faces, underneath their eyes. They looked so tired.

Yuan was marching around the perimeter, trying to make up for what he had announced as Kratos' lazy way of doing his duties. He didn't see how the man's eyes scanned the area, or how his right hand always rested near the hilt of his sword. Beneath Noishe's feet, he could feel Kratos' muscles remain tense. Even back then, the ex-knight rarely slept.

Shaking out his feathers, Noishe then started to preen his wing. His colors were varying shades of green and white, the firelight making them more spectral than most. Kratos nudged him slightly with a finger.

"Not now. The brightness will be too much."

Noishe slowly complied, huddling back into a ball, head down. The campfire was already quite a risk. On more than one occasion, the sunlight would reflect off his wings into the enemy's eyes. He was always high up into the sky, so it wasn't like they could get him… unless they had arrows.

He stayed quiet, continuing to watch the siblings sleep. Yuan's eyes were to the horizon, and Kratos' to the grasses and trees nearby. At the very least, Noishe could keep his own eyes on these poor, tired children.

It was just a few weeks before Martel's death that Noishe transformed. Kratos had been the only one to witness it. He had thought the bird to be sick at first, with the way Noishe had shook and clung to his arm. More than a few hours later, Noishe had stretched out his legs – all four of them – and could wag his tail. Kratos had not said anything, except pat the new creature's furry head.

Out of everyone, Mithos had been the most excited for Noishe's new look.

"So no more birdseed for you, huh?" Mithos scratched behind the creature's large ears, nearly as large as his head. Noishe panted with joy, then stood up on hind legs to place his front paws over Mithos' chest. "Ha! Good doggy!"

Yuan frowned. "He's not like any dog I've ever seen."

Martel had looked down upon them both, holding her staff upright, the sunlight making her hair shimmer. "Then we can name him as a new breed."

Yuan had nothing to say to that besides a half-hearted grumble.

But Noishe had been paying the most attention to Mithos, recalling how the boy hadn't smiled so wide in a long while. After that, the boy fed him extra food from their stash, scratched his belly, and ran with him as they journeyed. At night time, he would curl beside the animal, grateful for the fur and its warmth. As Noishe got used to his new body, he even gave Mithos a ride once in a while.

"You're a real good boy, aren't ya?" Mithos patted his back, careful to not let the heels of his shoes hit Noishe's sides. "And smart, too!"

Kratos had also looked pleased. They had just returned from a training session, one that Noishe could tell that Mithos was improving at. "I fear that we may be spoiling you," he said in jest.

It was perhaps a good thing that Noishe had transformed when he did. Yuan kept seeking Martel's attention, and she was already returning it in kind. It was ample time for Mithos to hang out with both Noishe and Kratos, his sword arm getting better with reflexes, and his scratching techniques getting better with each day.

"Wanna know a secret, Noishe?" Mithos had told him once, away from the others as they went for a walk. Noishe was proud to be a protector, his large size and sharp fangs keeping away many thieves. "I hope my sister will be happy."

Noishe had barked at him, tongue lolling as his feet left paw prints in the dust of the road.

"And I'll be happy, too. Don't worry." Mithos grinned. Blonde hair framed his oval face, as perfect as a portrait. He patted him again. "Once everything's done, then hopefully, we all can be."

When Martel died, Mithos had talked with him again.

"Kratos said you've lived for a long time."

The boy had sat next to him, eyes now dry, but his hands still shaking. Noishe could see the remnants of blood beneath the fingernails. Further ahead, into the trees, both Kratos and Yuan dealt with the shell they were left with. Kratos, in his experience with battle, knew what to do in the aftermath, and had gathered the items necessary to arrange a dead body. Yuan wouldn't let him do that alone, as he rarely let him do much of anything else. They were gone, and Noishe was here with Mithos. Someone needed to look after the child.

"And that you'll continue to keep living. For years and years and years."

Mithos' tone was as even as polished slate. His eyes were forward, out into the roads. Night had fallen, and the blood patch on the ground was near invisible now.

"Do you even understand how much time that is?" Mithos patted Noishe's head, fingers digging into the fur. Noishe could smell them still – of burnished iron. "Do you know how much you could do with all that?"

The fingers gripped. Noishe's claws dug into the ground.

"…You must. You've lived longer than me." Mithos turned to him. "And in all that time, you've never found out how to solve a problem like this."

Disappointment. Mithos let him go, then stood up.

Noishe looked to him. What will you do now?

Sometimes people could understand him. Sometimes not. Kratos had only started to understand his chirps and warbles before next needing to differentiate between whines. But elves sometimes could, with their blood humming with mana. Even half-elves.

Mithos' smile was hollow. The moonlight cast shadows over his face, underneath his eyes. He looked so tired.

"To save my sister," he said. Then he walked back into the tree's enclosure.

The night was cold, so Noishe huddled beside a familiar sleeping body. Lloyd was barely in his sleeping pack, and his snores could alert an army for miles. But Colette had said no such things were near them, and that the area was safe.

Regal took first watch, and was one of the few to be away from the campfire's ring of light. Noishe, just as awake, watched the two nearest to the fire. Genis was shivering, even with Raine's over him, his head resting in her lap. His sister laid against a rock formation, body half-curved over her younger brother. The fire cast moving shadows over both their faces, underneath their eyes. They looked so tired.

Near Noishe, someone else was watching as well.

"Are you angry with me?"

The creature suppressed a growl, instead settling for his fur to stand up. Mithos, he had thought, had slept as well. Or would pretend to. The boy, in his recent joining with the group, moved like a ghost on nights like this. His clothes burned bright in the dark, and the smile he would form over his face in the day would vanish when the shadows covered them.

Mithos sat next to Noishe, and ran a hand through his fur. Fingers crept in, scratching behind the ears. Noishe's tail wagged slightly, but he did not move.

"You know I won't hurt them, right?" He continued to scratch. "I like them. They're nice."

Noishe released his tension and, for old time's sake, pushed his head against Mithos' hand.

"You're a good boy, Noishe," Mithos told him, and for a moment, he sounded like himself. "You're a smart boy, too, aren't ya?"

The fingers continued to scratch, but then they scratched hard. The hand trembled.

"Wanna know a secret?" Mithos leaned in. His whisper traveled through Noishe's ears like poison. "I'm tired of living. I'm tired of it all."

Noishe turned to look at him. The firelight cast shadows over his face, underneath his eyes. He looked so very tired.

Noishe whined. He stood up slightly, hoping Mithos would let go of his fur. He did not.

"That's not something people should say?" Mithos laughed, slightly, empty. "But you know what else? I think what I'm doing may be wrong."

That is what we have all been trying to tell you.

Mithos shook his head. "What a smart boy… But now, that I've started to think these things, I can't help but feel there's no meaning in all this. In anything."

The hand gripped tighter. Noishe's claws dug into the ground.

"There's no meaning to life when there's no end to it."

Noishe's whine was low, barely enough to be heard. The boy's eyes had wandered back to the others.

"Even when everyone here has accepted me as a friend. Genis, Raine, Lloyd… in the end, it still doesn't mean much. Not when I'm so tired."

Then Mithos smiled. Hollow, like before.

"You must know, don't you? To live this long…it can't mean much anymore. I can change forms, too…. But that's all it is. Different body, same me."

His hand curled, balling up Noishe's fur in a tight squeeze. Noishe felt the skin on the back of his neck stretch.

"You must get tired, too. Right? It doesn't matter then. To continue like this. People die and they're replaced by those who are the same. Haven't you noticed that? It doesn't change, no matter how long you live. In the end, people are still the same."

Mithos placed his other hand over Noishe's head, turning him around to face him fully.

"…Except her, of course. And I can't think I'm wrong. I can't stop now. But I'm tired, so tired. You're tired, too, aren't you? It's better to not live for so long. That's one thing I know for sure. It's better to not live for long at all."

Mithos' other hand gripped his fur tight. Noishe gave a sharp whine, nearly a screech.

Lloyd flinched, sitting up quickly to find his dog shivering next to him, hunched over. No one else was in sight. "Agh! Noishe! Why'd you have to be dumb like that? There's no monsters around!"

Noishe shook out his fur, then quickly padded over to Lloyd. He rested his head in the other's lap. Whines couldn't stop leaving his throat. He heard the clinking of Regal's chains, but nothing more.

"…Hey. What's got you spooked so bad?" Lloyd's voice softened, and his hands went to pet Noishe's head. Fingers brushed through his fur, hitting behind ears and under jowls. "Did you have a bad dream?"

Off to a corner of the camp, he saw another bundle, near Raine and Genis. Mithos' hair reflected the firelight as he slept, his body moving slightly as he breathed.

Noishe whined further and buried his head in Lloyd's blankets.

"Wh- hey!" Lloyd shifted, but didn't force the so-called dog from his spot. "Okay, alright, just be a good boy and don't start kicking me in your sleep again.."

Noishe curled beside Lloyd, who in turn kept an arm over him as he went back to sleep. Just like they used to when Lloyd was small, clinging to him tight when the nights were cold.

"People die and they're replaced by those who are the same. Haven't you noticed that?"

Noishe gave one last look to Mithos, all still, no longer wanting to keep up the pretense. He then placed his head back on Lloyd's chest, who was already snoring again.

You don't need to live long to know how wrong that is.

He kept alert throughout the night. He wasn't tired at all.