100 Theme Challenge #90

This acts as a sequel-ish to my story The Cellar. I strongly advise you read it before this one, as you'll understand more the concept and background, even though I tried to summarize a bit in the story.

90. Lost

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

Right now, Thelma was pretty sure she was lost in her wander. She'd been walking for about an hour now and still hadn't found her way. She couldn't begin to think what it would be like, to live in a city this huge. She'd live all her life in a castle, and she thought the rooms' display was already complicated as they were, let alone a big city. Let's settle on the fact she had no sense of orientation. And yet, she was afraid to ask someone for directions, the neighborhood she stumbled upon was dark, monotone, the people looking at her with grim faces and glassy eyes. She preferred to step somewhere safer-looking before attempting any conversation. She looked once again at the paper clutched in her hand, forcing the fear down her throat. She had worse before, she could do this, face the unknown.

Except it meant new ghosts for her, and she had to not show her fright despite them lingering around the living. Some were coming so close she could breathe the cold their dead pores oozed out endlessly. Alas, the marked district didn't relieve her of any ghostly presences, au contraire. Beheaded corpses were polluting the area, and Thelma had to breathe deeply, eyes on her boots, to continue forward. And then she had to meet familiar boots. A voice mumbled in her ear.

You left me to die.

She shivered even though it was a warm day and looked up to meet the gaze of Coel, the woodsman who had died while helping her to save a ghost. He was now a blood-thirsty, vengeful one. The guild of it was eating at her every day, and the ghost haunted her to make sure she remembered it all. If Mister Chetwyn wasn't there to push her forward, she probably would have ended up dead at some point, but the werecat (or whatever he was) presence kept her sane. He was currently sleeping in her backpack, but she knew she could count on him if there was any trouble.

"Leave me alone," she muttered to the ghost of her once friend. She could still feel him as she ventured into a narrow street, and she nearly got crushed by horses.

"Get out of the way!"

She sighed in frustration and looked for the cleanest person she could find nearby. It was a difficult task, but she finally found a lady checking some fresh fruits.

"Excuse me, my lady, could you help me-?"

The woman turned to her, eyed her tern clothes and probably tired face. No wonder nobody bothered her, she looked like those people.

"What?" She barked with an annoyed (and annoying) high-pitch voice.

"Could you tell me how to go to that place?" Thelma showed her the paper.

"I have no clue where that is," she finally answered with disgust. And she turned her back to Thelma as if she wasn't existing.

Thelma was fuming at the woman's attitude, but she simply walked away. So much for appearances; under an apple's red and healthy skin laid a rotten core.

She felt Mister Chetwyn move against her back and promptly went into an alley to let him free. He stretched his lithe body and looked at her with his golden, calm eyes. She made sure there was no one else before nodding at him. His form blurred for a second and there was a crouching man in its place. Thelma had bought some new clothes for him, modern ones, and with his sharp cheekbones and dark expression, Thelma couldn't help but stare at him when he extended himself to his full height, brushing the dust off his shirt.

"Have you been awake for long?" She asked him. He blinked his large eyes at her.

"Long enough to wish I could sink my teeth into that demon disguised as a woman."

Thelma chuckled, closed her bag and put it back on. "No need to. She's probably already sad as it is."

Chetwyn scoffed. "You're too kind with people who are not," he grumbled. Thelma had the urge to scratch him behind the ear to make him purr like he'd do in his animal form.

"And you're too grumpy for someone being awake for five minutes. Come on, I still haven't met my uncle, or whoever it is that person is supposed to be."

"Show me the paper," he urged, and she did with a sigh. "I know where that is, I've been wandering in this city before you were even born."

Thelma rolled her eyes. She almost wished he stayed a cat, but at least he'd help her find her way. Her uncle was the only family member she had left, and obtaining where he lived hadn't been the easiest thing to find. He had the same powers than her, so maybe he knew why they had been granted (or cursed) with them.

She followed Chetwyn through the streets, passing by the fish market where she had to stop him from coming too close to a stand. They entered a new neighborhood, this one more colorful.

"Did you ever meet him?" She asked as she was gazing at a vibrant red cloth bracing the shoulders of a woman.

"A long time ago, but he never used any of his abilities in the castle, so I couldn't confirm your friend's theories."

He emphasized on friend, and Thelma rolled her eyes once again. He didn't like the man who kept her safe for a month after they escaped the castle. He once told her the man had bad intentions in his heart, but she never dared to ask how he knew exactly.

"Here," he finally indicated. He looked down at her, a few black strands of hair falling before an eye.

"Are you sure about this, Thelma?"

She brushed them back before smiling.

"Who else is better disposed but a long lost family member to let you discover your origins?"

(What is 100TC?)

Poem is All that is gold does not glitter, by J. R. R. Tolkien. I didn't plan for this to be actually a sequel of The Cellar, and I obviously let some mysteries about what happens when we left our dear duo going down that dark cellar, but I'm not sure if I'll write an actual sequel, I'm not planning one at the moment anyway. I have way too many projects at the same time.