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It was a cold, bone marrow freezing, snow blinding, bitterly bright winter day, and Wynn was as happy as a little Inuk could be.

He had his favorite mug of hot coco grasped in between his caribou leather gloves and it was still full to the brim and very hot, which meant to Wynn that he would have a splendidly long walk through the ice and snow if he nursed it at the rate of a few sips every couple minutes. He liked this foul weather and gazed up at the frozen sky with a rare smile plastered onto his lips. he stood in the center of the concrete walkway a ways away from the Chikami Mall area, wearing a jacket from home. Sometimes, if he just closed his eyes and breathed in the lung-freezing cold, he could almost convince himself that he was standing outside of the Bentley's general store, ankle deep in snow as the hunters came back from the early morning fishing with lines decorated with glittering fish, furs would be brought to the tannery to be turned into leather, and dogs would bark into the frozen air, ready and eager to go and pull sleds.

He gave a relaxed sigh, lifting his travel mug to take a drink while his eyes were still closed, still recalling the shabby homes of his village so very far away. This was going to be a most relaxing d-

BAM!

The instant Wynn took a sip from his travel mug, a bright pain exploded from his back and legs as someone careened into him and sent him face first into the cold snow and ice of the pavement. He didn't even know what was happening. He heard the lid of his travel mug snap off. For a brief moment, he was convinced that he had done something to anger the spirits and this was his punishment, being struck down by some unseen force from the nether regions of the sky above, until the shearing pain of still (very) hot cocoa splashed up into his face and neck, continuing its explosive course over his shoulder and into the face of his attacker. Wynn felt his knees slam hard into the ice and his chin crashed into the pavement, skinning it and snapping his jaw painfully shut with the rebound. As soon as he tried to push himself up from the ground and inhale a breath with which to scream from the searing hot of the coco that was now leaking down his shirt and the inside of his jacket, Wynn was suddenly rolled underneath another body that pinned him to the ground, once again forcing his head to meet with the cement.

Wiggling underneath his attacker, half-blind with stinging hurt, and coughing up coco from both his throat and his nose, Wynn balefully cried out, as he tried to very forcefully push his attacker off of his small form.

"Aaah! AAAH! GET OFF ME!" Wynn demanded in an entirely uncharacteristic roar as he tried to dig his stinging eyes into his sleeve.

Wiping his face wildly in his sleeve, trying to wipe off as much of the sticky hot drink off of him as he possibly could, Wynn felt the heavy body of the other boy finally roll off of his back. He moved himself upward slowly, distracted with the singing pain prickling his skin and the raw hurt of his scraped chin as he steadied his arm underneath him. Finally able to blink most of the drink out of his amber eyes, Wynn glanced around despairingly at the aftermath. His knees were scraped and the fabric of his pants had broken in the fall, exposing reddening bleeding dirty skin. His elbows had caught most of the forward impact, and his jacket was thick enough to have protected him there. Then, all around him, sinking into his clothes and freezing the fabric, was the remains of his hot coco. An entire walk's worth of hot coco...All wasted! Wynn was going to admire the snow, absorb the cold and familiarize himself with the school ground some more. This hot coco was Mrs. Bentley's special coco mix, the once she made herself from imported coco beans. The last package even. It was Wynn's plan to savor every sip, every reminder of home, but no longer...

Thanks to that boy.

Wynn turned the full force of a pouting Inuk glare upon the helmet-clad head of the other student. Without even thinking about what he was about to do next, Wynn lurched forward and slammed the full force of his gloved knuckles into the student's face and proceeded to jump on him, spewing insults of every color from his Inuit vocabulary.

And never, never, had Wynn gotten in a fight with another person before. He came from northern west coast Alaska, a place where fighting had no place where people fought daily for survival. So of course, when the other student finally awoke to what was happening, Wynn had no chance in defending himself for much longer. His small body was easily overtaken by the other and within moments he was pinned. Despite his hopeless odds, the Inuk continued struggling helplessly, kicking his legs, flailing wildly, and tossing his head from side to side. He continued wiggling until he was too exhausted to move anymore, and when weariness overtook him he laid, panting heavily underneath Scyeth's grip with his eyes brimming with moisture.

He had heard the other boy's questions, and at that moment of weariness, Wynn answered in his thick accent. "....Y-yes! That was Mrs. B-bentley's last...You made me spill it!"

Order more? Wynn faced the thought of this possibility with confusion. He hadn't thought about that, but then again, how could he face or dare to write the same couple who had sent him here in the first place? Sure, the Bentleys had given him all he needed, education, work, and kindliness, but they weren't his parents. Neither were they his adoptive parents. No one in the village wanted to adopt him for fear and wonder of the boy's "spirit touched" hands. There was always a seed of bitterness when Wynn reviewed this information, a kind of anger that he never wanted to express. So how could he face them, they who sent him away, and ask for more hot coco, his sole comfort drink? No, Wynn would not do it. He didn't want to talk with them again, not after what they did. They didn't even say goodbye. However, that seed of displeasure didn't stop him from drinking the coco or secretly savoring each drop.

"Not my girlfriend," Wynn snapped bitterly, trying to sniff away the moisture. He rolled himself over onto his knees and tried to pick himself up, but when his feet threatened to slip out from underneath him, he latched onto the other student's extended hand. Finally straightened up and not bothering to wipe the snow off of himself or the blood from his knees and chin, Wynn faced the boy who introduced himself as Scyeth. It was only fair to give his name in return right? There was an intensity in his eyes that belied the small trembling stature of his body, "I am called Wynn Darbinian." he said softly, and at the mention of going inside, he gave a small nod, "Okay."

As the other scooped up his skateboard, Wynn wiped his gloved hands against his jacket, trying to pat off a majority of the snow from his shoulders and hair. It was already beginning to melt against the natural warmth of the Inuk's skin and seep into his clothes. It matted parts of his hair so it stuck up in funky directions as Wynn tried to wipe off the icy powder. Momentarily satisfied that he wasn't going to come down with pneumonia for being soaked in freezing snow, Wynn picked up his empty traveling mug and its top from the ground and sorrowfully wiped it clean against his jacket. It was completely empty. Sighing, he popped the lid back on and followed Scyeth into the store. He couldn't place it, but this new student was different from the others.

As they entered the pristine glass doors of the mall, Wynn was also startled by the sight of every wall, window, and sign plastered with hearts of every shade in the red end of the spectrum. Furrowing his brows at the love drenched decorations, the Inuk, unknowing of the holiday coming up, almost hesitated to step into the mall.

"...Strange," was all Wynn was able to choke out, glancing around from sign to heart saturated sign, "What is wrong with store?"

Being from the Artic circle and part of a normadic Inuit tribe that had recently settled down in favor of financial security in the Northern reaches of Alaska, it was safe to say that Wynn didn't have neither thought or hint about Valentine's day. Fortunately, he was a part of an Inuit culture that favored their own traditional beliefs rather than Christianity. It was exposed to them when they built the runway for planes that would pass through their small village on stops, but they never accepted it as their own faith, and in return, Wynn grew up in ignorance of holidays celebrated by most of the world south to his home. His idea of celebration were feasts, potlucks, dances, songs, and stories...Not hearts.

"I know not," Wynn replied helplessly, getting more confused by the other things the boy was listing off. Wynn quietly promised himself to learn more about these strange ways.

Following close to Scyeth as the two confused students observed the Valentine's Day signs, the Inuk furrowed his brows and constantly glanced between Scyeth and the hearts as if he'd have some way to explain the festivity. That's when he saw the other lad's pointed ears. Tilting his head, his eyes transfixed on Scyeth's strange ears, Wynn watched. He hadn't ever seen ears like these before! Despite his usual sense of reserved behavior and shyness, curiosity got the better of the youth and he reached out to gently prod the ears of Scyeth with his cold gloved hands.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking quite bothered by the unnatural shape, indicating the boy's ears with another poke.

The Inuk flinched back as Scyeth showed animal-like signs of irritation, jerking away from his curious touch and retreating away. He knew, as a hunter of meat and souls, that when an animal showed signs of irritation, it was best to move away. While Wynn knew very well that the person before him wasn't an animal, instinct controlled his moments over thought. He wasn't phased by the other student's quick and fiery reaction, a bit startled, of course, as anyone would be, but he wasn't scared. He was unsure. Wynn had never seen anything like Scyeth's ears before and never had he heard of "demons". His mind struggled to make meaning out of the other boy's words, find some definition from his own knowledge that would fit his description, but to no avail. The demons of the arctic were strong animals, like whales and wolves. There were no tales of demons the shape of humans.

Wynn kept his amber eyes locked on the blond before him, his ignorance to Scyeth's race playing out upon his features as naive curiosity. Unlike the others of the world, Wynn was clean and void of opinions and preset knowledge of the other races, for his view of the world was limited to his own icy horizons until now.

To each question, Wynn shook his head, making his matted and messed up hair bounce across his forehead, "No," he said, "Do not know. Does not bother me. Why. I want to know why. Curious. If you are demon, then you are demon. Just like I am Inuit. Your are demon."