Two Starved Rabbits

Tobias knocked on Solana's door. No reply. In the corner of Tobias’s vision, a light went out. He flinched, looking past his shoulder. His chin scraped against the fabric of his cloak, and he pulled the midnight fur tighter. It felt like he was being watched.
The sun descended quickly. It was a wisp on the horizon. His shadow now covered the door. He looked up and down the street: empty. He knocked one last time. Still no answer.
“Shit.” Tobias shivered as he fumbled for the worn leather bound notebook in his breast pocket. Why hadn’t she left a more detailed note? Show off some new design? Perhaps. Probably. His fingers shook as he pried the small metal latch open. He was used to the cold winds of winter, having visited family in Ten Towns once a year growing up. But something was different. Without the warmth of his family, it was hard to ignore the rime that crusted his lungs with each painful breath.
Tobias coughed and something skittered behind him. He spun around. A flabby cat stood on the wall behind him ready to bolt. Its hair puffed out, making it look like a portly porcupine. Tobias pulled a pen from his pocket, pointing it at the monstrosity. He thought of several obscenities to throw its way. The icy wind made him shudder before he could spit any out. Tobias thought about the current crate of Julia's wine that sat against his bed.
Tobias stepped up to Solana’s door, using it as a surface to write a quick note about how he had stopped by. He slid the note under the door, turning to start a brisk walk home.
In the growing dusk, Tobias found the Reverie untroubled despite the news around town. The few people that were out struggled to read his features. He could pass for a full-elf, drawing stares of curiosity rather than animosity, although they felt pretty similar. The only full elf Tobias really knew was his father, Mindartis. Mindartis had a gaze that tore through any bullshit, and Tobias felt that same scrutiny now.
Still, for the classy part of town, he clocked more people out and about than he anticipated. He assumed they would all be in bed enjoying their uninterrupted sleep. Tobias wanted to embody the Reverie, spending his time with drink, and friends. The noises of the minor grew louder. He wondered why people were so aggressive outside the bedroom. Emotions should be shared through the lips; sipping on wine and kissing flesh.
Two women spilled out from a nearby alley. Tobias thought about the recent rumors, wondering if they were in fact true. He had mostly kept to himself after Highharvestide, nursing his built up stress and a nasty hangover. Rumor was that the guards were feuding and that several people had been soapboxing, taking advantage of the climate. Politics were a trivial matter.
Tobias always felt safe in Neverwinter, but now he wasn’t sure if he’d make it home.
Tobias crossed from the Reverie into Eronia. He kept to the shadows of the homes lining the street, each smaller than the last as he descended the hill. At first he only noticed a person or two, but as he was on a street near his own, he spotted a larger, scruffier group wandering the early night. The group was still in the act of getting drunk and riling themselves up. They chatted about the caravan guard, the town guard, or the need for something else. Tobias passed by them.
“Hey, you look kinda young to be out? Haven’t heard?” A grizzled man rubbed his beard with a meaty finger.
“Tryin’ to get home,” Tobias said, noticing the drink the man was sloshing. “What you have there?”
“Why do you care? The man pointed at his cup. “It’s a drink, not much to it.”
“Oh, well, goodbye.” Tobias stammered, turning onto his street.
Tobias could see his front door. He sprinted the last fifty feet, spilling through his doorway and quickly bolting the latch. He leaned his head against the door, reaching for the wine he had left on the stand. Two scrawny rabbits hung from a rack in the corner. Tobias eyed them. They looked more like rats as they dangled.
Tobias finished a bottle of wine, stroking one of the ratty skins. What was the point? He couldn’t even properly track game anymore. He thought about the first time Mindartis took him on a hunt. The cool morning air had been pleasant back then; he’d watched as the steam rolled off of his dad’s shoulders. This afternoon the cold mountain air tore through Tobias, as he slouched in his heavy fur cloak.
Tobias cried. He clutched the skins in his hands. “Gloves it is,” he sobbed, wiping his snot on the dull brown fur. He pulled his notebook out, flipping through his sketches. Nothing caught his eye. Balanced against the wall he stood to his full height, rocking his way into the hallway. He kicked over an empty wine bottle, it skittered towards his room.
At his desk, Tobias studied the fur. He reached for his pen and ink, tracing his hands along the insides. In his drunken stupor, Tobias envisioned great progress. The gloves were beautiful. He set them aside, whispering he would return to them in the morning.
Tobias woke up and screamed, punching at the brown mass next to him. It flew across the room breaking in two before flopping to the floor. They lay motionless. He hesitated, peeking his head around the side of his bed before approaching what looked like two dead rats. A pair of gloves. He sneered, who would leave him with such a nasty pair of gloves.
“I could never,” he peered at his desk, where his notebook was open.
“Shit.”