The cold steel pressed against the woman’s lower back harder as she breathed in deeply and exhaled through her nose. Tilting her head to the side, she regarded Geda from the corner of her eye with lips drawn in a thin line and eyes narrowed.

“Before you ask,” Geda says, the soft click filling the silence of her pause. “I will have no qualm in shooting you.”

The woman closed her eyes and faced forward. Though her hands were busied with Bartolomeo’s saddle, the hilt of her dagger was just within her reach. A number of thoughts ran through her mind. Geda’s finger might’ve been faster than her reflexes and she could die at this very moment. Or, she might win their bout and have the ire of a small child whose sister had been slain. Somehow, the latter left a bitter taste in her mouth less agreeable than the former did. Bartolomeo stamped his hooves in the dirt and craned his neck to her. She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze and frowned. His wide dark eyes, inquiring and hesitant, as if the pistol pressed to her back wasn’t enough to sway her thought. Although what surprised her more was that she still drew breath and Geda’s silence.

“You’re hesitating,” the woman pointed out, peeking over her shoulder.

A scowl etched deep on Geda’s face, the gun pressed harder against the woman’s skin and she grunted, narrowing her eyes but refusing to look away.

“I am trying to decide whether you live to see the next bell,” Geda hissed. “Your answers will decide your fate.”

The woman almost scoffed. Here in a village on the edge of a graveyard, surrounded by souls who flee at the sight of her, and children who pelt her with rocks — if this is where fate had led her then she was an unlucky fool.

“My answers,” the woman echoed back, shaking her head with a mirthless chuckle. “No, your will shall decide my fate. I only hope that if you fire, you kill me. If not, it will be unpleasant.”

Geda’s eyes narrowed, her lips pinched together in a sneer, nose wrinkled. The gun trembled in her hand but her jaw was set, the resolution in her eyes making the woman’s stomach turn and her heart flutter.

“Is that a threat?” Geda whispered, shivers running down the woman’s spine as she drew to her full height and stared down her nose.

“No, those brigands who call themselves soldiers are a threat,” the woman spat. “I am a promise.”

Perhaps antagonizing the person who could end her life with the squeeze of a trigger wasn’t wise. But the woman dared nonetheless, her hands curling into fists, nails digging into her palms sending searing pain shooting through her arms. With the slight burning in her skin and the heat behind her eyes, the corners of her vision began to dim red until a sharp rapping against glass made her head snap towards the inn’s doors. Two small shadows darted out of the window and the woman uncurled her fingers, the red twinge dissipating.

“Your sister is watching you,” she says, hands laid at her sides. “Will you be made a murderer in front of her?”

Geda’s breath hitched and the woman knew she hit a chord. “Do not threaten me.”

“It was only a question,” the woman reassured, pausing to breathe deep. “My sister often looked at me the way yours does, always watching what I did, even the things I wasn’t proud of.”

“You have a sister?” Geda asked, the woman noting the airiness of her voice that could only come with disbelief and distrust.

“You don’t believe me,” the woman sighed, turning her head far enough that her chin rested on her shoulder. “The red bead on my plait, touch it and I will show you.”

Geda hesitated and the woman scowled. Her patience was in a steady decline. Dirtied from traveling for weeks, hungry and pushed to her brink, she wasn’t in the mood for hesitation nor another second of Patun’s “hospitality”.

“I am here for my sister,” she said through gritted teeth. “You can try to kill me but if I survive, I will go home to her.”

The two locked eyes, neither willing to look away or yield. From the corner of the woman’s eye, a hand raised and brushed against her hair, traveling towards the line of beads. Holding her breath, she tried to still the turning in her stomach and met Geda’s eyes just as her fingers brushed against the red bead. The woman’s eyes fluttered shut, heat traveling from behind her eyes to the top of her head, spreading through every lock of hair and coiling into the bead. When she breathed, her face felt hot almost as if she was basking in sunlight.

“Hold still, Reya!”

Her eyes snapped open. She was standing but not in the middle of a desolate road with a gun pressed to her back. The world around her was fuzzy, but the person in front of her came through clear as day. A young girl with her fists sitting on her hips and eyes narrowed, glowering up at her. Dark brown eyes with the faintest hint of red, stern and admonishing, softened as the woman moved forward. Her dark hair, tightly coiled and thick, draped over her shoulders and spilled down her back, tangling in the woman’s fingers as she reached up to cup her cheek.

“Scarlett,” she breathed, the corners of her lips tugging up into a smile as Scarlett huffed and leaned into her touch, her pouting lips curving up into a warm smile.

“You promised you’d let me do your hair this time, Reya,” Scarlett insisted, wagging a finger in Reya’s face before poking her nose. “So you’ve got to be still, okay?”

Words lodged in Reya’s throat and she nodded stiffly. Whether Scarlett noticed her discomfort or not, the girl didn’t let on as she gathered locks of Reya’s hair and began to weave them together. She hummed a soft tune, a melody that made Reya’s chest ache and her heart sing, eyes closing as she basked in the warmth.

“How long are you going away for this time?”

Dread was a heavy weight in Reya’s stomach. She knew the question would be coming but it’s arrival wasn’t enough to soften the blow. Opening one eye, she was nearly blinded by light shining from behind Scarlett. Covering her eyes with a hand, she grunted and squeezed her eyes shut, lifting it slowly. Scarlett continued plaiting her hair as if nothing happened, her eyes hooded and deft fingers tugging and twisting without pause. Reya’s lips pursed and she sighed, laying her hands on Scarlett’s sloping shoulders.

“Not long,” she assured, giving Scarlett’s shoulders a firm squeeze, smiling forlornly when Scarlett didn’t look up. “You won’t ask me if you can come?”

Scarlett shook her head. The sunlight gave her a faint glow, warm golden undertones to her dark brown skin, matching the yellow bead on her braid. Her gaze flicked up, meeting Reya’s, weighty and searching until she sighed and shook her head.

“I know you’ll say no.”

Reya smirked. “Smart girl.”

A sharp tug to her plait jerked her head forward as she hissed in pain, rubbing at her scalp and meeting Scarlett’s smug countenance with a nasty glare. Scarlett quirked a brow, seemingly unfazed and wholly satisfied with herself and Reya rolled her eyes.

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Scarlett said in a sing-song voice, giving the plait a gentler tug before pulling her hands away. “There, all done.”

Reya lifted the plait and admired the pattern, running her fingers over the shining beads. Two black, one red and the last clear. They shone in the sunlight, the clear bead catching onto the rays and glimmering a myriad of colors. Scarlett batted away her fingers, laying the plait against Reya’s shoulder while wagging a finger in her face.

“Don’t undo my hard work,” she said, holding up a mirror to Reya’s face. “Here, see?”

In the mirror, Reya’s eyes widened as the face that looked back at her wasn’t her own. It was younger, without scars bisecting her eyes and cutting across her nose, dark wavy hair spilling down her back with a single plait laying across her shoulder. Hair obscuring one of her eyes, she pushed it behind her ear and cringed, quickly covering her face and looking away.

“Scarlet, I—”

The words lodged in her throat. Eyes burning and head growing hazier as she tried to tie them together into a sentence. Distantly, Bartolomeo’s clopping hooves and whinnying echoed and she glanced behind her. The fuzzy landscape swirling and twisting until her hands were clasped tightly, head snapping forward as she looked into Scarlett’s eyes. Squeezing her hands, Reya breathed in harshly and tried to stay her trembling body.

“I know,” Scarlett whispered, the smile resting on her lips not meeting her eyes. “Just promise you’ll come back.”

Reya wanted to tell her that it was uncertain. Promises were flimsy and easily breakable and she couldn’t bear to harm her sister anymore than she had. But Scarlett’s eyes glimmered with hope and glazed with tears, the same tears that lodged the offending words in Reya’s throat.

“I promise.”

Scarlett smiled, inching closer, searching Reya’s face for something.

“And that you’ll write?”

Reya glanced away, frowning at that. A quick jab to her stomach making her grunt and nod slowly, rolling her eyes to the sky.

“You have to say it,” Scarlett insisted, her voice taking on a whining edge.

“Okay, okay,” Reya sighed, smiling exasperatedly. “I promise.”

The two stood in silence for a moment, staring at one another until Scarlett threw her arms around Reya’s waist and hugged her tightly. Her head resting against Reya’s shoulders as she squeezed until it was almost painful for Reya to breathe. Wrapping her own arms loosely around Scarlett’s shoulders, her cheek pressed against the top of her head, flattening down her curls.

After some time, Scarlett pulled away and wiped at her eyes, smiling brightly as she stepped out of the embrace.

“Well, it’s getting late,” she pointed out, gesturing up to the sky. “Last one to the house is a sloth monkey!”

Without waiting for an answer, she turned and started running. Reya moved to follow her but her legs wouldn’t budge. Bartolomeo’s whinnying grew frantic and the stamping of his hooves sounded much closer but as she peered over her shoulders, she couldn’t see him at all. Her heartbeat quickened, hand outstretched as she tried to reach for Scarlett’s retreating back. The corners of her sight darkened, the world becoming less and less discernable.

“Wait, Scarlett!”

Trying to will her legs into movement was futile, hand groping at empty air as her sister became a speck amidst the darkness.

“Slow down!”

Scarlett’s laughter echoed in her ears and she struggled, grabbing at her pants leg, palms brushing across cool metal. Heart jumping as a sheathed dagger emerged, strapped to her thigh, and the callouses on her hands and dirt beneath her fingernails returned. Looking up, she reached out and tried to yell.

“Scarlett!”

Her eyes snapped open, a throbbing ache thrumming through her mind as the world came into focus. Patun’s desolate roads, the amber light coming from the inn’s windows, and Bartolomeo’s huffing and stamping hooves surrounded her. Scarlett was nowhere to be found. Her laughter echoing in the woman’s ears. She could still see her standing right in front of her, smiling forlornly as the woman reached up to cradle her head in her hands.

“That was —”

Her breath hitched. Scarlett’s red-brown eyes were replaced with Geda’s dark brown. Her coiled glossy black hair substituted for Geda’s curly black hair tied back in a messy ponytail. Arms interlaced around the woman’s waist, staring up at her with wide eyes, was Geda and not Scarlett. The woman pushes away from her, Geda stumbling backward and the woman pressed against Bartolomeo’s side, chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. The heel of her hand pressed against her eye socket, a sharp throb pulsating behind her eyes.

“You shouldn’t have seen that far,” she whispers, covering her mouth and turning away, eyes burning.

“No, no I--”

“That was a mistake.”

Scarlett’s hands in her hair, her smile, her voice. It all seemed so real and now it was gone. Gone where, she wasn’t sure but the aftermath left her nauseous and fuming.

“How could you call it that?” Geda’s voice was grating to the woman’s ears, a high-pitched hissing and the look on her face was downright furious yet pitying. “Your sister, Scarlett, she was beautiful.”

“She is beautiful,” the woman growled.

“What happened to her?”

The woman shook her head vehemently, bracing herself against Bartolomeo’s side and bowing her head. Willing the stinging in her eyes away, she breathed deep and let the cool air prick her lungs before she spoke.

“That is none of your concern,” she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’ve done my part, now do yours. Will you kill me or not?”’

Geda chewed on her lower lip, the flintlock pistol that had been held tightly in her grasp was now clenched between two hands. Her stance was firm and wide but her hands shook at the wrist. Whether from the cold or the decision placed upon her, the woman wasn’t sure.

“Your name is Reya.”

“That’s right.”

Geda took a deep breath then exhaled, looking up at Reya. “I—-”

“Make a decision,” Reya snapped.

“I’m trying, you’re not making this very easy you know.”

“Killing isn’t meant to be.”

Geda’s mouth clamped shut and she recoiled, stepping away and holding her arms close to her chest, the gun cradled against her bosom.

“But you’ve killed before, haven’t you?”

Reya didn’t respond. Her fingers curling into fists once she found her footing, standing resolutely with her head held high.

“Why?” Geda asked quietly, barely contained curiosity glimmering in her eyes.

Reya looks away, glancing towards the inn windows. “For her,” she mutters. “Isn’t that why you were going to kill me?”

Geda's mouth opens then clamps shut. Silence stretches between them, Reya refusing to look away from the windows while Geda fiddles with the trigger.

“You should come inside.”

Reya's eyes widen and she looks forward, glowering as Geda lifts her head and nods. She squares her shoulders, standing at her full height and Reya's heart clenches as she tears her gaze away. 

“Please," Geda interrupts and Reya scowls. “I insist.”

Her voice. It's her voice that grates on Reya's nerves and seeps into the cracks in her heart. Folding her arms, Reya digs her fingers into her sleeves and bites the inside of her cheek. Scarlett's laughter rings through her ears and thrums to the beat of her heart, haunting yet beautiful. 

“I don’t want Helia to see what might happen,” Geda continues, taking Reya's silence as a sign, stepping forward and offering a hand. “Just as you wouldn’t want Scarlett to see what you’ve done, right?”

Reya glared at her, lips curled back into a snarl. “Don’t use her against me.”

“I’m not,” Geda said. “But I hope you understand what I mean.”

Reya lifted her head, eyebrow raised as she watched Geda turn and make her way up the steps. Only after she reached the inn's porch did she look back, opening the door and stepping inside, leaving it open behind her.