#mlu

It was months away on foot, and she had to arrive there for her first day in a week’s time. Spores. She’d really messed it up this time. The greatest opportunity of her life, and it was going to just float away…

All her friends had said ‘well, why don’t you just go by spider? It probably wouldn’t cost so much to rent one for your travel.’

To that she said ‘I’d rather walk on my hands the whole way to Trismegista. While blindfolded.’

It was true that spider travel was cheap. Giant spiders that were specifically bred for humans to ride. But the thought alone made her feel like her skin was on fire. She’d pass out before she even reached the sign indicating the edge of town.

Circe sighed again, louder this time, hoping that maybe some invisible force would hear her and fix all her problems. She took out her purse and tipped it upside-down, hearing a clink as her savings dropped onto her palm. Two gold coins and a nice green button she’d found. Spores. What am I gonna do? It’s not like I can afford the train.

As she mumbled through her worries, sitting on her volatile box of alchemy supplies (assuredly, very risky behaviour on her part, but she was too miserable to care), she failed to notice the creaking of the weathered old door in the distance, covered up partially by the rain and her rapidly increasing breathing. Circe’s hands flew up to her hat as she pulled her pointed hat lower over her head to drown out the constant hammering rain for only a moment, revelling in the brief, cool darkness of the inside of her hat. She pushed it back up curiously when suddenly a tiny voice in the back of her head told her that something had gotten close to her.

Looking up, she was immediately filled with horror at the sight of spider’s eyes boring into her own and she instantly, rather ironically, crawled backwards to get away, toppling over the box of her delicate alchemy supplies. A pink puff of smoke came trailing out of the corner of the box, but Circe refused to take her eyes off the creature’s eyes for a single moment. It seemed to stand there for a confused moment before a quiet, polite voice said ‘Wait. I scared you, right? Oh, I’m so sorry.’

A kind-looking girl who appeared to be the same age as her pulled off what turned out to be a mask of a spider’s head. Her real eyes were much kinder, a golden brown gaze that did not hide any ill intent.

She offered her a hand up and gave a small, awkward wave. ‘Hi. Arachne. I mean, I’m Arachne. You’re not Arachne, that’d be strange. Unless your name is Arachne, in which case that wouldn’t be strange, it’s a lovely name- I’m sure you have a lovely name. Oh! I- I don’t see people very often. People don’t usually come this far into the woods. Would you like to- to come into my house? It’d be warmer that standing out here. Unless- unless you’re a rain witch, then I suppose it would be fine, but if not- uh. Yeah. You can come in.’

Circe had to take a few seconds to process all that. This girl-Arachne- seemed to be very keen at the idea of having a guest. She shifted on her feet, not necessarily out of discomfort or excitement, not standing still appeared to be her natural state of being. The rain showed no signs of stopping- she didn’t need to be a rain witch to tell that much- and she could practically feel the cold water on the forest ground at her feet slowly getting into her shoes. She realised she didn’t have much of a choice. She nodded, smiling faintly. Arachne beamed, her feet doing a little jog on the spot.

‘One moment’ Arachne chimed, turning her back to Circe. She realised she was putting on her mask. Arachne did a little twirl, and in a flourish of silk, a ghostly umbrella formed in her hands. She tried to speak, but it was muffled and she seemed to realise that the eyes were making Circe uncomfortable. Removing her mask and putting it in a tiny satchel attached to her belt, she spoke again. ‘I’ve had to teach myself all this magic, so it- it may not be the best… but… I thought you might like protection from the rain.’

Circe gratefully took it from her hands and opened it up only to be surprised at the size of the thing. It was twice as big as a normal umbrella. It could easily fit both her and Arachne. She held it up so it’d shelter them both and then gestured with her hand, giving Arachne an encouraging smile. ‘Lead the way.’

Arachne seemed so enthusiastic about this all that she didn’t noticed when she grabbed Circe’s wrist instead of the umbrella handle. Or maybe she did realise, and she truly had lived isolated enough to not know about the boundaries of strangers. Then again, Circe didn’t mind, and she knew witches stuck together. This one deserved a chance to have some company.

They walked together in the pounding rain, Circe following the gentle but energetic tug of Arachne’s hand on her wrist. Her house came into view. The door was wide open- clearly Arachne hadn’t thought twice before running out of the door to meet Circe. Arachne stopped right before the door.

‘Right, you’re not too fond of spiders, are you? That’s okay, just give me a sec to do something.’ She fumbled for the mask in her satchel, put it on and shouted into the house ‘We have a guest!’

Immediately, a swarm of clicking noises could be heard. Circe peeked into the house from behind Arachne’s back and she was met with a horrifying sight. What she assumed at first glance to be a black carpet turned out to be a swarm of spiders. The swarm slowly formed into a single-file line and disappeared under the curtain of thick white blankets that covered the space under the bed. Circe’s skin felt like it was on fire at the mere thought of sleeping anywhere near them. How could Arachne sleep with them so close? Actually, how could Arachne live with them?

‘Sorry, I can’t make them leave. They’re my familiars, and they’re very gentle. I promise they’ll cause you no trouble. Maybe you’ll see that there’s nothing to fear from spiders. If you’re not convinced… well, that’s okay too.’ She finished her sentence with a genuine smile.

With perhaps more caution than was necessary, Circe took the first steps and entered the house. The lights were dim, the warm glow coming from perilously perched candles all over the house. Some were stuck, half-melted, to the tables. A few were hung from near invisible, wispy strands of spider silk stuck to the rafters. As she looked up, she noticed something else dangling from there. What appeared to be an oversized sweater in progress was also peeking out from above. Arachne followed her gaze. ‘Ah, hard at work, I see, my friends. You’ve almost finished. It looks lovely so far.’

A chorus of clicks was her only response, but she seemed pleased with the reply.

Spiders in the rafters, too? Circe was regretting having accepted her invitation more and more by the second. But the spiders seemed very polite, and Arachne was so happy to have a guest. Maybe it’d be alright to ride out the rain. Even if it killed her inside a little. And Arachne was right, maybe it’d be enough to finally get over her fear of spiders. Maybe she’d finally be able to hire a spider for travel. Maybe she’d even make it to Trismegista on time. Okay, maybe that last part was wishing a bit too hard.

Circe sat herself down on the sofa with the least cobwebs on it and tried to feel relaxed. Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t easy, when there were so many thoughts knocking around in her skull and so many spiders knocking about under Arachne’s bed. Arachne went to make her some tea. Soon the rich scent wafted in her direction and she sunk a little lower in her seat. It smelled like home. That tea had some magic in it, for sure, and it was exactly what she needed to make her feel better. Maybe it’d be okay to stay a little while longer… at least to ride out the rain. This was pretty nice, actually.

Circe woke to the sound of skittering on the ground. Thousands of tiny little vibrations joining together to make a small yet steady rumble. She stood up in surprise, sloshing some cold tea over herself in the process as she watched the floor churn with a horde of spiders. They worked as one, covering different parts of the house in a single wave.

‘Oh! Good morning! They’re just cleaning, they won’t be long. Sorry for any inconvenience.’

The spiders were truly efficient at their job, taking less than ten minutes to clean the house from top to bottom. They joined together a final time and used their silk to make a delicate-looking bag, which they put all the rubbish in. They waited for Arachne to open the door for them and then they heaved the bag onto the bottom of the steps leading up to the house. Arachne praised them and they replied with a single chorus of triumphant clicks before disappearing into the various nooks and crannies of the house once more.

Another cup of tea appeared on the table in front of Circe. It seemed that while she’d been distracted, Arachne had prepared a humble breakfast for the two of them. She gingerly sat down in the rickety wooden chair across from where Circe sat and started distributing the food. The scent of homemade bread was enough to bring Circe’s attention back to the table.

She shrieked.

A large spider had made its way onto the table and looked at her, swaying from side to side on its many legs. It waved its front two legs at her, and Circe stood up and tripped instantly in her fear. As Arachne tried to hide her laughs, and as Circe tried to hide her embarrassment, she explained ‘She’s hungry. You wouldn’t mind giving her a crumb, would you?’

As the rush of the initial scare slowly went away, Circe nodded and stood back up. She made her way back to the table and placed a crumb from her plate in front of the spider. It picked it up and held the crumb up high in its front legs while spinning twice in a circle. It then promptly zipped off the table using a fragile thread of silk to glide down to the floor. Arachne smiled. ‘She said thank you.’

They ate their breakfast quietly, only breaking the silence to say things such as ‘Could you pass the jam?’, or ‘This tea is very good, I haven’t had anything like it.’; the usual breakfast talk. The rest of the day was very uneventful. The only occurrences of note were when the spiders descended from the rafters and presented Circe with the sweater they’d been making, and when Arachne attempted to introduce Circe to all her familiars and gave up when she’d reached the hundred and fifty-third spider. Circe still wasn’t sure if the spiders had named themselves or if Arachne was assigning them names on the spot- there was an unusual amount of Rogers, Circe had noticed.

She took a moment to look more carefully at the grey sweater the spiders had given her. The pattern was lovely, with intricate details meticulously woven back and forth so lovingly by the little family in the rafters. The material was extremely soft, and light as a breath of air, but very warm. Circe had no words to express her gratitude- mostly because she was so honoured, by also partly because she hadn’t been expecting them to pop up right in front of her nose.

The day passed quickly, and soon the moon’s silver glow peeked through the tiniest of gaps in the forest canopy, casting star-like shines on even the smallest of drops on the dark green grass. Arachne had spent the entire day fussing over Circe, making sure she was comfortable and entertained, having even proposed a spider-shadow puppet show at one point. After a very polite yet passionate argument over who should sleep in the bed, it was decided that Circe, as the guest, should take it.

‘Right then, if you’ll give me just one second to make it nice for you…’ She pulled back the covers and shook out about three dozen spiders who were unceremoniously thrown onto the floor from their cosy sleeping place. Arachne held up a pair of denim shorts, a confused expression on her face. ‘These… aren’t mine… And I don’t think they’re yours either?’ Circe shook her head. ‘Okay… That’s quite strange… I’ll just put these down over here for now. That’s a mystery for another time.’ A bowling ball rolled out from underneath the bed and bumped Arachne’s foot.

‘Ah! Oh… that’s the bowling ball I talk to when I’m lonely. Sometimes I pretend it’s a real person and I try and practice talking to people. Apparently it didn’t work very well, I’m still not very good at… talking to you…’ her voice trailed off rather sadly and she put away the bowling ball on a chair near the bed. A few minutes and several more strange items later, the bed was finally ready for Circe to sleep in. Whether it was the exhaustion and stress of the last few days or if this was actually the most comfortable bed she’d ever been in, Circe wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t going to complain. She fell asleep almost instantly, all her troubles melting away.

The next day passed, and, like a student who is suddenly made aware of homework due the very same day, Circe was washed over by a sense of panic as she realised that time was ticking very quickly if she was to get to Trismegista on time. Arachne seemed to sense her unease because suddenly she appeared at her elbow with a mug of tea, the warm, rich scent wafting in her face.

‘You don’t look too good. What’s on your mind?’

Circe looked at this girl she’d met about two or so days ago, who’d been kind enough to let her stay with her, free food and a warm bed and excellent company- and she was so filled with emotion that she started crying. This didn’t do very much to help Arachne figure out what was wrong. If anything, this made her even more worried. It took Circe about ten or so minutes of tear-choked nonsensical babbling and plenty of soothing words from Arachne before she calmed down enough to explain her predicament. She felt a little bit bad that she’d been so generously allowed to stay and she hadn’t even told Arachne why she was there.

Arachne made cute little ‘hm’ noises as she tried to think of a way to help. She’d open her mouth to say something and then immediately close it again. After a few minutes, her eyes lit up and she gave her a wide smile. ‘I know how I can help! Oh. Wait…’ her eyes darted from Circe to the corner of the room, where a particularly large gathering of spiders was having what appeared to be a dance session.

‘Okay. I can help you, but you’re going to have to come to terms with your fear of spiders.’

Well, never mind then, Circe thought. I might as well just give up right now. Nope. No way I’m going near them.

‘It can get you to where you need to. Instantly.’ Arachne stood up and started pacing up and down in front of her, waving her hands around as if miming out her words. ‘I have an, uh, acquaintance, I suppose you could say? Maybe acquaintance doesn’t do it justice, actually, I suppose he and I are rather quite friendly- oh right! So, my friend! He’s sort of… a giant spider? And he’s pretty old. I think? Not that I’ve ever asked- hey Roger, remind me to ask him next time.’ About twenty spiders all chirped back in unison.

‘He mentioned a key that he has and he says that the person that picks up that key can go anywhere they want. But it’s not like how you think. If you place that key into any door, you will exit on the other side in the place of your heart’s desire. I’d get it for you myself, but if I touch it I’ll contaminate its magic. You’ll have to get it in order to make sure nothing goes wrong.’

Circe almost considered it for a few seconds before she realised how completely foolish this all was.

‘So you’re asking me to travel to the nest of… a giant spider.’

‘Yes.’

‘And to grab a key owned by said giant spider.’

‘Yes…’ Arachne’s voice trailed off a little bit as she realised how much she was asking of someone with arachnophobia.

‘And this giant, ancient spider will just hand me, someone he’s never seen before, a magic key that is one-of-a-kind and can only be used once?’

‘P-probably…’

‘You know what, I’ll do it.’ Circe was so desperate at this point that she wasn’t thinking entirely, otherwise she would have undoubtedly taken two seconds to consider the situation.

‘Oh. Well. That took a lot less convincing than I thought it would. I’ve got two bags packed already, we can be out of the door in ten minutes if you want.’

 Ten minutes was a severe underestimation. Circe was ready and waiting to go but at the last minute Arachne rushed about the house picking up things while mumbling to herself, no doubt trying to decide whether or not they were worth taking. She debated taking two loaves of bread, her bowling ball, the rafter spiders, and at one point she tried to fit her whole collection of silverware. Circe managed to talk Arachne out of taking any of those things, and they set out with the sun low in the sky.

 They passed the time by telling each other stories. Circe spoke fondly of every place she had ever visited, while Arachne told her all about the wonderful adventures that her favourite heroes had been on in her fantasy books. After a while, they both stopped noticing how tired they were and just focused on each other’s voices and the crunching of the crumbly dirt beneath them. The sun had gone down and they kept going. Not once did either of them glance behind them, because they both felt completely safe in each other’s company. Perhaps it wouldn’t make much sense for two people who’d only known each other for a few days to place their trust in each other so wholeheartedly, but lonely people understand each other in ways that words cannot explain.

 At last they came upon a cave entrance marked by an archway of glowing blue fungi. The two witches sighed together in relief and sat at the entrance of the cave and ate a small meal.

 Arachne fearlessly stepped inside, while Circe took a little longer to bring herself to enter. The tiny entrance opened up into an impossibly large space. The crater in the roof of the cave let in silvery-blue moonlight, cold but peaceful. These slivers didn’t quite illuminate the massive cave, so anything that wasn’t bathed in moonlight was in total darkness. And yet, there was something in the darkness. Red. Glowing. Staring. Circe fought the urge to scream. She didn’t want to be rude, especially if this spider was the difference between her being stuck or getting to Trismegista.

 Still, the creature that crawled out from the shadows made her want to turn around and walk away. With a healthy dose of screaming.

‘Hi, Greg!’ Arachne called out cheerfully, waving as she did so

Circe almost choked on air. Greg?

Greg made a satisfied clicking noise before making his way into the full light. Massive didn’t do him justice. He was the size of a house. Spores, he could probably eat an entire house. Knees knocking, Circe somehow managed to summon the courage to walk closer to the great, ancient, almighty, potentially carnivorous Greg.

Greg spoke for the first time, although it took her a while to process it as human language, between the pops, squeaks and several other nameless noises, a garbled yet sophisticated tone emerged.

‘Ah, my dearest friend Arachne, you have returned. Although I see you’re busy, so I’ll forgo the usual formalities. As much as I appreciate your company, you and I both know you are here to ask me for a favour. Would I be wrong in thinking so?’

‘I-‘ Arachne suddenly became very interested in the ground beneath her. ‘… no.’

‘And… I assume this favour has to do with the other witchling you have brought here?’ he leaned in, looking at Circe with intense interest. He sighed.  ‘It has been forever since I have had fresh meat.’

Circe’s eyes went wide as she shrieked and she was about to run away before Arachne caught her by the sleeve.

Greg’s laugh turned to a concerned gasp before he took a step back on his giant legs and apologised profusely.

‘I was just… how do you young ones say? Kidding? It was a jest, I hope you’ll forgive me. I must say, Arachne, I think you’ve found one of the last people alive to still be afraid of spiders. My much younger brethren serve as a means of transportation, no? However would you hope to get anywhere without their assistance?’

A brief pause.

It stretched out forever.

‘… ah. I see.’

Circe made eye contact with Arachne, and she found that the same overflowing hope she herself felt at the opportunity of a lifetime was reflected in her companion’s eyes too. Something more than words was telling Circe that Arachne wanted this so badly for her, a complete stranger turned best friend in a matter of days. They stood there, unsure of the future, waiting for a reply. Never had Circe’s heart been closer to overflowing with the sheer anticipation.

‘… right this way then.’

A smile crept its way onto both their faces as they cheered, their joyous echoes reverberating throughout the entire cave. They hugged each other furiously in triumph before adjusting their hats and chasing after Greg.

He indicated a small gold key, cast aside in a mountain of other ordinary items no doubt brimming with all sorts of magic. Circe approached it slowly and reached out. A few centimetres away, she stopped.

‘So this’ll just take me straight there?’

‘It’ll take you wherever your heart resides. The magic has not faded. I’m sure you, as a catalyst, can tell better than most other witches.’

She took a steady breath. She remembered who had gotten her to this point.

Arachne was on her tiptoes, almost bouncing with excitement. ‘Go on! Go on!’

Her fingers grasped around the key. It was hers. A faint golden outline of a door appeared in one of the walls of the cave. The keyhole was shining with magic, with promises of comfort and peace and happiness. It felt like the sun itself had been squeezed into that one tiny lock. Her whole life was just starting, and this key would be the thing that would start it.

It clicked in perfectly. Circe took one final look back at Arachne and motioned for her to come over. They embraced each other again. How could it be that such a small gesture could convey so much? It was thankfulness, it was nostalgia, it was friendship.

It was love.

The key seemed to move on its own, turning the lock all the way. It had fulfilled its purpose- it melted away into a puddle of gold before turning into tiny shimmering particles that were blown away by the cave’s breath. She was almost there.

The door swung open. Warm yellow light burst out. The scent of homebaked bread and sweet-smelling tea wafted out. Was this right?

Curious, Circe opened it all the way and walked through.

She stepped out into Arachne’s kitchen.

***************************************************************************************

Surely there had been some kind of mistake? But Greg was right, the key’s magic hadn’t faded and she could sense that it hadn’t been tampered with either. But why else…?

There was only one explanation. The mere thought of it brought a red tinge to her cheeks.

‘No…’

She buried her head in her hands, collapsing into the nearest chair.

‘Is this… what my heart really wanted?’

Circe didn’t know who exactly she was asking. Maybe she was hoping that some invisible force would come and fix all her problems.

She must have sat there for ages because just then the front door swung open weakly. Arachne was returning from the cave- she had to come the long way. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, and she sniffled a little. She threw her coat onto the bed and then threw herself onto it limply. Circe didn’t know what to do, so she stood there in silence. A while had passed, and eventually Arachne lifted herself up from bed. They finally made eye contact and it clearly took a while for Arachne to realise what she was seeing. Her hands went up to her mouth as she tried to stifle a scream of shock. Arachne lunged forward, arms outstretched for a hug. They were a tangled, giggling, sobbing mess for a while before they both settled down and took a deep breath.

‘But… but how? You’re not meant to be here, you should be…’ Arachne babbled, incredulous.

‘I know, I know, but...’ and then Circe paused. What was she going to say? What was it about this place that had captured her heart, that had ingrained itself in every corner of her mind, that made leaving a complete impossibility? She looked around wildly, hoping that maybe the spiders in the rafters would descend with an answer she could give to Arachne.

Wait...

Arachne.

She looked back at this girl she’d met only a few days prior. This girl who had taken her in, treated her like family, kept her warm and safe and was the most excellent company she’d ever had the privilege of staying with.

Maybe it wasn’t such a mystery why she wanted to stay. Maybe… Arachne was the reason.

‘I think you’re why.’

‘Excuse me, what? I don’t-’

‘-you. I want to stay with… with you. Is that okay?’

…

A pause. It wasn’t because Arachne was thinking it over. It was more that she was trying to come to terms with the whole situation, and put her thoughts into intelligible words.

*

Salem had never quite fit in with the others in the Raven Army. Many were either afraid, or simply didn’t care enough to bother to talk to him. He’d earned his position through bloodshed, and apparently his reputation was more respectable than he was. The young man they all saw in the headquarters was definitely not the same man they saw prowling around the forests that surrounded the kingdom, claiming his territory with wicked steel and glowing eyes. The man in front of them was quiet and reserved, nothing like the fearsome hunter all the others spoke of. He hadn’t spoken to anyone outside his pack since he’d first joined.

He didn’t mind. He preferred it that way.

All along, as far back as he could remember, Salem knew his life was going to be tough. His earliest memory was of his first kill, as painful as that was to admit. He was born a killer, and, by the looks of it, he’d die a killer too. It was in his nature, in his very blood.

Salem was one of the first successful products of a series of experiments to create the perfect biological killing machine. A perfect blend of human wit and pure animalistic heartlessness. Their sight, hearing, their speed- nothing was ignored. Everything that could be enhanced, was. When Salem looked in the mirror, he often found himself thinking about what he was. He found an answer, after a while.

He was a beast.

To say that he cared in the slightest would be ridiculous; sheer insanity, even. He’d laugh it off, sharp teeth glinting, and he’d send you off on the rest of your day. Only those who truly paid attention would notice that the smile didn’t quite meet his eyes.

*

It was supposed to be a quick job. Get in, get out. The place had been scouted ahead of time so they could plan the best entrance, if anything could be torched in an emergency, that sort of thing. Given how hushed the whole mission was, Salem was expecting a big fuss.

What he stood in front of seemed to be the very opposite. It was a tiny house, stone walls and a straw roof. The stone looked like it was one good breeze away from turning into dust, and the word ‘old’ didn’t even do the roof justice. He found it hard to believe that anyone even lived there- it didn’t seem fit for humans.

Apparently, he was wrong. He came in through the back door of the house and sure enough, someone was sleeping in the bed. His heart started racing, preparing him for the fight that was about to inevitably unfold. He stalked up to the figure in the bed. For the briefest moment, he wondered why only he and his sister had been sent for this mission, if it was so important. But that didn’t matter right now. The Doves had ordered this person’s execution, and that meant that they had to die. It was very simple.

Salem had no remorse as he held his knife in one hand, and reached out with the other. He found the person’s shoulder and in mere moments, they were pressed up against the crumbling walls of the house, a knife pressed to their throat. The blanket shifted off his prey’s face and he caught a glimpse of his victim.

His eyes were closed, and he was unresponsive. Were it not for Salem’s unnatural hearing picking up on his breathing, he would’ve suspected that he was dead. The boy finally woke, and his confused eyes took everything in as he tried to understand what happened. Salem couldn’t help but notice the similarity between the boy in his hands and the rabbits in the wild when they were trapped between his teeth. As his eyes widened and his hands slowly raised up to try to keep Salem away, Fiadh kicked down the front door and checked all the shadows for any threats. Every time she placed her boots down, a little bit of dust from the rafters fell down onto their heads.

‘Ah, you found the target. Get rid of it and we’ll be on our way.’

The boy was practically whimpering now. He desperately held onto Salem’s hands, trying to push the cold blade away from him. Normally, Salem would just end his life right there. Something about the boy caught his eye, though, something imperceptible to any normal human. Salem made up his mind at that very moment. If he had a change of heart later, he could just kill him.

He leaned in close to the terrified boy. Silvery tears were falling down his face but no words came out of his mouth when he tried to speak.

‘When I let go of you, you’re going to fall to the floor and pretend you’re dead. Don’t get up til I’m back. You got that?’

A small pause. He gave a shaky nod, but he still had the expression of an animal that knows it’s trapped. As Salem let go of the boy and he dropped to the floor with a hollow thud, lifting up more dust around them, a few drops of blood splashed to the floor. Salem held his bleeding arm close to the boy’s still body- so he can play dead after all, huh?- and he got to work spreading it over the floor to pretend like he’d finished the job.

‘Finally. Took you long enough on this one. Stop desecrating the corpse and let’s just head back for the debrief.’

Salem looked back at his sister, then back to the body on the floor. He got up and walked across the house in long strides before slamming the door behind him. Half the roof caved in with the force. As he walked away, he couldn’t help but wonder at his punishment should the Doves found out what he’d done. Defying orders wasn’t exactly something that carried a light sentence. Hell, his own pack might go after him.

Let them, he thought.

*

How long had he been lying on the ground for? He still wasn’t even completely sure what had happened. Now he was lying on the ground, waiting for the return of a stranger who’d pushed a knife against his throat and then asked him to play dead. He was lying in a small pool of that same stranger’s blood, and he didn’t even know why.

In conclusion, Ichor’s day wasn’t going very well.