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It feels like an eternity since Beau's last been on her own.
Back before this, before the Mighty Nein, before Jester and Fjord, a small part of her had relished traveling alone. It had been a welcome change from being home, and the time spent studying with the monks — no longer being surrounded with people all the time, people who more often than not just wanted to tell her exactly what she should and should be doing. For a while there, she’d been able to be in control of who or what she got involved with. That had led her to Fjord and Jester, and eventually the rest of their motley crew. Trudging her way through the snow alone now, Beau realizes for the first time just how comfortable she’d become with always having someone at her side, people to talk and joke with and huddle against for warmth on slightly rougher nights, someone always keeping watch.
“You’re a fucking moron,” Beau says to herself, on what has to be her sixth or seventh night on the road by herself, because gods has she let herself get too used to traveling with others. There's only a week or two between her and meeting back up with the others in Zadash, but Beau still feels a painful twinge of longing for her friends at her back as she decides to stop for the day, wishing she had someone else there to help her find a good place to settle down.
There’s not much safety in spending nights close to the road on her own, and she hasn’t passed any groups on the road for at least half a day either, so asking a party if she could join them for the night in exchange for helping to take a watch shift was right off the table. Beau’s tried sleeping up trees the past few days, just for shits and giggles, but sleeping… sleeping hadn’t been going well since they’d missed out on their chance to try and bring him back, and the bruise still spread across her ribs was a constant aching reminder to try not to startle out of sleep into anymore falls. Still, Beau finds herself trudging towards one of the few trees along the open stretch of road anyways, clearing a space for herself between the tree roots and dropping her bag to the ground. She follows it a moment later, pressing her back against the tree and propping her staff up so that she can lean her arms over it.
The only sounds by now are the occasional birds rustling around in the branches, huddling down for another cold night. Beauregard keeps a wary eye on the road as she relaxes, shivering slightly, but the coat folded up into the bottom of her bag is too conspicuous even at this distance from anyone who might pass by, and she’s tired enough that in the end it doesn’t matter that she's too cold. Beau falls into a light sleep within minutes.
“Here. You are going to freeze to death in this weather, you know.”
Beau looked up just as something warm draped over her shoulders, and tilting her head back, she saw Caleb, standing over her and letting the coat he’d kept at his side since they’d left Molly behind rest over her.
Beau was aware of Nott watching from the other side of the clearing where they’d come to rest, of Keg looking away and Nila glancing towards them in curiosity as Beau met Caleb’s eyes and said, “Get this thing fucking off me.”
Caleb raised an eyebrow. He’s looked tired these past few days, but something told Beau that this is something he’d insist on if she tried to fight him on it, if the thought of draining anymore of his gentle patience with them as they’ve pushed on the best they could without half their party wasn’t already making her feel bad as it was.
“I’ll warm up again once we get moving,” Beau grumbled anyways.
“Mollymauk would not want you to let something as simple as catching cold take you down,” Caleb said, turning back to return to Nott’s side. “We have things to do and we need you to be in shape to do them, Beauregard.”
It was one of the first few times that they’d acknowledged Mollymauk in the days since the fight, especially as they began drawing closer and closer to running out of time to try and bring him back. Hearing the name stirred something up in Beau’s chest, something threatening to overwhelm her, and Beau swallowed hard, waiting until Caleb was distracted by a question from Nila to reach for the edges of the purple coat and pull it in tighter around her.
Beau decides when she wakes up that she’s stalled long enough.
It’s only a few days travel on foot from where she’d split from the rest of the party, but it's taken her almost twice that time to get this far. It takes her another two hours full of slight zigzagging through the countryside before Beau kicks herself again and starts on a more direct path in what she hopes is still the right direction. After that, it doesn’t take long for Beau to begin recognizing some of the small landmarks around the area where they’d tried to ambush Lorenzo.
Beau starts cresting one of the hills, away from the road towards where they’d left him. The place where they’d buried Mollymauk just under the earth was still hidden from Beau’s sight from here, and she lets out a huff of exasperation as the snow coming down around her almost seems to double in volume as she draws nearer. And then… something inexplicably tightens in her chest and Beau slows. There’s something niggling in the back of her mind, some observation that a part of her subconscious has made without yet realizing what it means, but something about her surroundings now feels inexplicably off somehow.
Reaching for her staff, Beau hefts her bag around to fall against her back instead of her side and brings the staff up cautiously, rotating in a slow circle as she continues slowly moving in the direction of the grave. Nobody else seems to be around, and why would they be? They’ve taken care of Lorenzo and his cronies, and Beau can’t think of any reason why anyone else would find this a spot of interest.
She’s drawn closer enough now to be able to see the large branch they’d driven into the ground to mark the head of Molly’s grave through the snowstorm, a promise to him and to themselves at the time that they’d be returning soon and in need of someway to find the grave quickly. Another moment, maybe two, as Beau draws to a stop in front of the grave, looking down, and then notices the slight dip in the layer of snow in front of her.
Beau hesitates for a moment before bending her knees and letting the side of her staff sweep across the ground over Molly’s grave. Some of the snow comes away, and then more when Beau does it again, and again, until she’s exposed bits of the ground and clumps of dirt ringed around a circle of snow.
Beau feels her stomach drop even before she drops her staff to reach out and sink her hands into the snow, clawing it out of the way and off to the side until it fully sinks in that she’s emptying out a deserted hole.
Mollymauk’s grave is empty.
Molly is gone.
… again.
Beau sinks back on her heels, her mind whirling as she stares at the abandoned grave in front of her.
“Well,” Beau says finally, feeling some cold and dreadful fear beginning to rise in her chest. “Well… fuck.”