Arna spent the night in the barn, hidden away in the stable at the back where Old Blern laid on a bed of hay. The huge cow had merely watched the saber enter her space before resting her head once more, while the other animals in the barn had taken some time to settle back down and still kept as far away as they could.

Arna would have preferred to stay outside but being so close to the inn meant travellers were constantly in and out, and when daybreak came, she would surely be seen tucked away behind the barn. She would wait with Old Blern until Neri was ready to go.

With Arna’s keen hearing, she could hear that the warrior had risen with the sun and was taking her time over a bowl of gruel, scraping her wooden spoon against the rim. She closed her eyes to focus on a new noise. A group was approaching.

She gathered herself to her feet, Old Blern opening one brown eye to regard her with curious boredom. Many individuals and parties of people had passed by in the night, some leaving or entering the inn, but this group felt different. A dank scent hung heavy over them, an atmosphere clinging to their clothes like foul smoke, and their harsh laughter rang empty over a joke only the bloodhungry would find amusing.

And that was when Neri decided to wish her farewells and exit the inn, the door swinging shut behind her as she headed towards the barn.

“Hey, missy!” a crude bark of a voice called. “Hey!”

She heard the warrior pause, her boots scuffing in the dust.

“I told ye it was a missy,” another voice rolled like black ink over ash.

“Can I be of assistance?” asked Neri, her tone cautious.

The men laughed. Their movements were closer now, every step purposeful as they surrounded the warrior with the barn at her back. She could taste Neri’s unease, hear the clench of fingers on her sword, her heel retreating as if to turn and run.

“Assistance,” a third man repeated, twisting the word on his tongue like a snake encircling its prey. “I’m sure you can be.”

“Why don’t ye give us that sword? Don’t want ye to hurt anything, do we?”

A sharp scuffle of feet and dust. “I’d keep your hands to yourself if you want to keep them at all,” Neri warned.

The men laughed harder.

Arna met the solid gaze of Old Blern. She could rush out the barn door and end those men as easily as blink, but it would risk the entire inn becoming aware of her presence. Fear and chaos would result. Perhaps she could just intimidate them, but then surely a rumour of a monster at the crossroads would taint Demly’s business. The man was kind and good-natured – and Neri’s friend.

Arna growled softly, frustrated that she couldn’t act, not like this.

Old Blern sighed, both eyes now open to observe the frozen saber standing in her stable, and gracelessly heaved herself up from her hay pillow.

“We have ourselves a fighter!” the men crackled.

Each word spoken dripped smothering oil, voices thick with poison and oozing the gratification of men who deemed lives as expendable as the sweat on their stained skin.

Would they really attack someone outside the inn? Arna didn’t want to wait in the shadows to find out, but she couldn’t reveal herself. Could Neri fend them off after travelling, only days after fighting raiders?

Old Blern bumped her nose into Arna’s side, making her startle backwards in an unsteady tangle of limbs. The cow turned her head and knocked it against the stable door, the wood shaking and ringing a small yet loud bell Arna hadn’t noticed before.

“Ah, excuse me,” she heard Demly inside the inn say. “Old Blern is calling for her breakfast.”

Brown eyes looked smugly at Arna while the chickens clucked hungrily, recognising the morning call of the bell, and the inn door swung open again.

A pause. “Is everything alright out here?” the innkeeper asked.

Arna listened as the men moved back together with a sense of disappointment that they’d been caught before they could have their fun. They only provided short guffaws and audible shrugs in reply, hoping to share the cruel hilarity they lived.

“Are you okay, Neri?” asked Demly, ignoring their camaraderie greased with blood.

A deep intake of breath and the soft scrape of a sword returning to its sheath. “I am now. Thank you.”

“Why don’t you men grab a seat at the bar?” Demly’s voice was friendly yet subtly barbed. He would turn no custom away, regardless of their character or means, but he had a line he would not tolerate being crossed.

The men conceded to his request with mumbled curses, sauntering inside the building as if they owned the very air.

“Good thing Old Blern got hungry or I wouldn’t have known you were in trouble,” said Demly, approaching Neri with warmth.

“It’s okay, really,” Neri replied, her voice quiet. “I could have dealt with it.”

“Neri, I know you could have. I told you – you are an amazing warrior. But something’s happened, I can tell. You’re shaking.”

Arna’s heart lurched.

“I’m sorry,” came the almost inaudible response. “It just…”

“Okay,” sighed the innkeeper. “I’m here if you ever need me, okay? I should probably feed Old Blern now.”

“D-do you mind if I do it?” Neri blurted, her voice louder than before. “Give me something to focus on to calm down, and…to repay you. For your help.”

A moment’s pause. “Alright. Her feed is the first bag in the store cupboard. Can’t miss it.”

“Thank you, Demly.”

“Of course.”

The rustle of clothing as the two hugged, Neri pulling away first and turning to the barn while Demly returned to the clamour of the inn. When the barn door clicked open and a line of sunlight revealed the dust spiralling in the fresh air, the animals rose at the new presence and Arna’s breath hitched.

“Hey there,” she heard Neri whisper, probably to the horse stabled nearest to the door. The store cupboard opened and the warrior stepped inside, moving around and grabbing a sack. She dragged it towards the cow’s stable, towards Arna, and lifted the latch.

Old Blern stepped back, moving her body clear of the door and the food trough. The door swung back and Neri pulled in the heavy sack of feed and heaved it up over the trough, pouring grain freely until the metal bottom was covered. The cow eased herself in front of it, digging into the food with a satisfied noise.

“There you go, Blernie,” she whispered, carrying and leaving the sack just outside the stable before closing the door and finally facing Arna.

The saber had barely moved since she’d stood earlier, her heartbeat still painfully fast in her chest, her muscles frozen with fearful indecision. When green eyes finally looked at her, it was like someone had snapped the chains shackling her throat and limbs.

The warrior offered a shaky smile, her hands trembling as she gave a small wave. “Morning, Arna.”

Those men had taken her straight back to the moment when the village she was supposed to protect fell, when the people she had sworn to guard died around her and the raiders had stolen her away as a trophy. She had felt powerless again, terrified that she would be too weak to fight them off.

Arna moved towards her, slowly, waiting to see if Neri would flinch at her approach. She didn’t. Instead, she crouched down, her knees in the hay.

The saber forged effortlessly across the small distance between them, placing her front paws either side of Neri’s body and pressed her face into the woman’s shoulder, the skull mask pushing against the metal plates of armour. At first, the warrior didn’t react and Arna worried if she had made a mistake, but then Neri’s arms wrapped around her neck, fingers entangling deep in her fur.

A long, shaky breath whistled through Neri’s lips. “I’m supposed to be strong,” she murmured into Arna’s ear. “Now look at me.”

The saber pushed harder against the woman’s shoulder, feeling her tense so she didn’t topple backwards under the force. “You are strong. The strongest person I’ve ever known.”

A harsh self-deprecating laugh. “Says the big magical cat.”

She pulled away so she could look Neri in the eye, the grasp around her neck loosening but still holding on. “It’s the truth.” She gently nudged the warrior’s shoulder with her nose. “Demly thinks so too.”

Neri leaned her head back, staring up at the ceiling and tracing cobwebs with her eyes. Then, she dropped her hands and got to her feet, dusting hay off her knees. “We should get going.”

“Neri-”

“I know,” she cut Arna off with a small but genuine smile. “Thank you. Now, we really should go before Demly comes to feed the rest of the animals.”

Arna gazed into those eyes, saw how fearless the warrior was yet vulnerable to her own thoughts, and how her strength was both within and without. She looked back, and they stood on equal ground.

“I’ll come with you.”

A slight frown fluttered across Neri’s brow. “What?”

“To Atsylei. I’ll come with you – into the city.”

The woman’s smile widened, a hint of amusement and mischief flickering across her pale features. “Was that ever in doubt?”