Standing in front of the mirror, I don’t quite believe that the reflection staring back belongs to me.

The woman inside the glass looks thinner, her face gaunt beneath the artificial layer of powders and rouge. Despite this, her dark red hair looks clean in its arrangement atop her head. The silk of her black dress is freshly-pressed, free of wrinkles and it clings to her body, perfectly fitted. She’s free of blood and when she forces herself to smile, it almost looks convincing.

But I guess she really is me, because when I emerge from the second level of the house and run into my mother in the front hall, even she looks startled to see me.

She is dressed impeccably, wearing a blue gown with a flowing skirt and her hair in an intricate knot. Despite the obvious age difference between the two of us, we could nearly pass for sisters. My mother’s face still retains its youthful glow, even after years of struggle, two marriages and two children. When I look at her, there is no doubt who I inherited my dark olive complexion and thick mane from.

“Fayne!” she gasps, clutching the jeweled necklace on her collarbone in a comedic show of surprise. “By the Goddess, are you alright?”

I give her that practiced smile.

“Yes, I’m feeling much better now.” I tell her in a steady tone.

My mother doesn’t look convinced and I can’t say I blame her. It’s been two and a half weeks since she’s seen my face and I’m dressed just the way she likes me without any sort of protest or attitude.

“Well… That’s good.” she answers slowly. “I take it you’ll be coming with us tonight, after all?”

I want to tell her no. The last place I want to be is around other people, but I made a promise to attend and even the loss of Thomasin could not allow me to break it. So I nod and try to look as complacent as I can.

“Yes. If it’s alright, I’m going to head out early. There are some things that I need to see to.” I say.

My mother’s expression softens. She reaches out and draws me into an embrace, which makes me stiffen uncomfortably.

“Oh, my poor dear. You aren’t planning on going over to the Alpendane place, are you?”

The mention of Thomasin’s last name causes my throat to tighten. I swallow back a painful lump and am thankful my mother cannot see my face from the way she is holding me.

“Well, I… I thought maybe I could stop by and give her parents my condolences.” I explain.

“...Oh, Fayne…”

I’m squeezed hard and beneath the constricting vice that is my corset, I wheeze a little. I feel relieved when my mother releases me, but I do not much like the way she studies me with pity in her eyes.

“They aren’t there anymore, dear. They’ve left Naver to go live down south.” she explains.

Something sinks in my stomach. I look at my feet.

“Oh.” is the only thing I can muster.

Perhaps if I’d bothered to leave my room earlier, I would have found out before it was too late. Instead, I remained in bed when my mother came to the door and broke the news, completely unaware that I already knew. I said nothing when she came back a few days later and asked if I wanted to go to Thomasin’s funeral and after that, she didn’t bother me again.

In all honesty, however, I feel as though it is best for the Alpendanes to have left. The loss of their first-born son had already been extremely difficult for them. I couldn’t imagine how painful it had to have been for them to lose Thomasin in the exact same way. I’m sure that discovering what their kind-hearted daughter was doing in secret was shocking enough. They were better off away from here, protecting their remaining two children from a cruel demise like their older siblings suffered.

“I’m sorry, dear. I know you and Thomasin were good friends.” consoles my mother, patting my arm with tender affection and successfully bringing me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah, we were.” I reply flatly.

She doesn’t know the truth and frankly, doesn’t need to. Not anymore. I don’t want to hurt my mother. If she knew that I slayed beasts every cycle of the moon, she would be in hysterics. But if she knew that I liked women, she would go to an early grave, rise from the dead and do it all over again for dramatic effect.

“You could still go visit her.” my mother suggests with a warm smile. “I mean… I understand if you don’t want to. But I will say this - it’s something you shouldn’t wait to see with your own eyes.”

The kingdom’s cemetery is not far, lying quietly outside temple grounds just along the outskirts of town. Though I wouldn’t have minded the walk, I sit in my stepfather’s carriage upon insistence from my mother and try to avoid eye contact with the coachman.

Ahead of us, the crowding of stone architecture thins out and the countryside becomes visible on the horizon with cottages and farms dotting the plains beyond. My driver pulls back on the reins and the two dappled mares slow their trotting and bring everything to a halt.

“Shall I await you, Lady Fayne?” asks the coachman.

But I shake my head no.

“No need. I might be here a bit.”

He nods in understanding and smiles. There’s a sadness in the balding servant’s watery eyes. Just like the rest of my stepfather’s staff, he knew Thomasin well. During her time as a maid, she’d been well-liked by the entire household. It wasn’t unusual for the cook to slip her extra sweets before she went home for the night or for the stable hand to let her pet the horses when she wanted to. The other maids knew we enjoyed each other’s company and they would allow her to clean my room undisturbed so we had time to talk (among other things, of course).

“She was a sweet thing.” the coachman remarks, gazing skyward wistfully. “It’s already awfully quiet without her.”

“Yeah…”

I’m not sure of what else to say, but he luckily does not allow the awkward silence to linger. He tips his hat and with a crack of the reins, the carriage is rolling away and heading back for town.

Now, I am alone and the only thing that accompanies me during my stroll across the grounds is a breeze too warm for autumn and the gentle tap of my shoes upon the path. An iron-wrought fence runs along my side, closing around the churchyard and the graves within. But it’s not until I’m at the gates that I really notice what lies inside.

There are flowers everywhere, at least one on every grave. Petals of white and red have been scattered across the walkways, slowly winding through the plots and creating a colorful path to a section shaded by an old elm. My mother was right. If I’d waited too long to visit this place, the petals would have withered and the color would have gone with the changing of the seasons.

I already knew where she would be; we’d come here before on the anniversary of her brother’s death, bringing roses and slices of fresh bread and cheese for an afternoon picnic together. My feet still remember the way to the Alpendane plot, but the closer I get, the more I feel like I’m seeing it for the first time.

Silk streamers billow on the wind, woven through the bows of the tree like ribbons in a girl’s hair. Here, the flowers are even more numerous and they not only decorate the newly-made grave to the right but her brother’s to the left as well. There are colchicums in brilliant purple hues, sprigs of heather, blue spires of monkshood and chrysanthemums bursting with petals, all arranged between the two humble stone markers. It is clear that much of Naver has come to show their gratitude here, rich and poor alike.

When hunters are killed, it always comes as a shock to the entire kingdom. We do our work in secrecy and they do not know our names or faces, so when one of us is revealed, it is usually in death. In the weeks following, there are vigils and services held to honor the efforts of the fallen. Drinks and toasts abound and the hunter’s family is seen to and taken care of.

But I have never seen a memorial on this scale before. Maybe it’s because of the number of people that knew her or maybe it’s because she’s one of the few known hunters that are women. Whatever the reason, it is clear that Thomasin would not go forgotten.

“Looks like you’re pretty popular.” I remark.

It feels strange, speaking aloud to no one in particular. I ease down to sit between the two headstones, carefully splaying my skirt out around me while trying not to disturb the offerings of flowers.

A gust of wind misplaces a stray curl in my hair. I push it back behind my ear and close my eyes, taking in the rich sweet smell that hangs in the air. A lump rises in my throat and I hurriedly swallow it back. I hold my breath for a moment and wait for the sharp pain in my chest to pass.

The reality of sitting over the place of her burial is setting in. All those days I spent in my room, making up fantasy scenarios of the two of us together had made it easy to forget. But now that I am here, I have nothing to face but the truth.

I inhale the smell of flowers again and let the hurt inside me settle a bit. The sparse grass is soft in my hands, even though it has started to yellow with the signs of fall. Regardless, I stare off distractedly, recalling the first time my path had crossed with Thomasin’s.

We were young then, somewhere around the ages of twelve and thirteen. I was passing by the front hall when my mother pulled me aside and introduced me to our ‘new maid’. Thomasin curtsied to me and I remember being awestruck by her wheat-colored hair and pink lips. Even then, I wanted to kiss her but only just to see if her lips felt as soft as they looked. I suppose not much about me changed over the years.

The two of us became fast friends and at times, I would forget that she worked for my family at all. We confided in one another, sharing secrets and making up stories together. When her brother died, I held her as she wept. She declared that she would become a hunter someday and see to it that his death was not in vain. I was scared, but not of the monsters that frequently crept through the city on a full moon’s night. No, I was scared of the danger someone as small and sweet as Thomasin would be in on her own. I told her I would join her and we vowed to always have each other’s backs.

And we did. Thomasin learned to fight by scrapping with the young boys in the poorer side of town and she taught me what she knew when it came to fist-fighting. Using errands and shopping as an excuse to leave my home together, we would watch the royal guards through the castle portcullis at the heart of Naver and then practice what we saw with sticks as swords.

Our first hunt was disastrous. Looking back, we were lucky to escape unharmed and alive. But we took the time to learn during the days between. We learned how to handle weapons and we trained ourselves to grow accustomed to the weight of steel and to move quickly through the kingdom. I used the coin I had received for my birthday to commission matching masks, while Thomasin sewed our cloaks with her own hands.

Everything we did, each milestone we made, all of it was done together. I became a hunter for Thomasin and so long as the kingdom was safe, I had no regrets.

Without her, though, I wonder if continuing it all would be worth it. Seven long years of fighting, with hunters before us having decades more under their belt, yet there was no foreseeable end in sight. The beasts always came, without fail.

“Lovely, isn’t it?”

The smooth baritone of a man’s voice makes me jolt. My reminiscing abruptly ends as I look up and notice that I am no longer alone in the churchyard.

Someone stands a few feet away, watching me from the nearby fenceline. It’s hard to discern his features because the lower-half of his face is hidden beneath the high-collar of his coat. He wears a ratty cap with a wide brim, black like the rest of his clothing, and when he raises his chin to look at me, I can see that one of his eyes is brown and the other is a milky white.

“Would it be rude of me to assume that you are named Fayne?” the man asks, straightening upright and hobbling toward me.

My body tenses and I am on my feet quickly, dusting off stray blades of grass from my skirts. I try not to look intimidated as he moves closer. My shoulders square back and I size him up with a hard gaze. Sensing my hostility, the man freezes and holds up his arms as if surrendering, chuckling all the while.

“Easy, easy, young miss. I assure you, I mean you no harm.” he says, removing his hat with a fluid sweep of his arm.

He’s got the hair of a wildman, brown like a mouse and wiry. Though the rest is tied back behind his head, flyaway pieces stick out in all directions without the cap to keep them still.

“And if my sources are correct, I would think that picking a fight with the likes of you wouldn’t be wise. You’re not just a pretty girl in a pretty dress after all.” he continues.

A chill runs down my spine and though my body wants to shudder, all I do is glare and cross my arms.

“Who are you?” I demand. “What do you want?”

Not once do his mismatching eyes leave me.

“Me? I’m simply a holy man, one who sees to this temple and its grounds.” he explains. “I’m not important. Not like you, Fayne.”

I feel an impending sense of danger and turn to flee, but find that not just one person has approached without my knowing. There’s another man standing at the path I walked to get here, but when our eyes meet, I realize I’ve seen him before. His lanky height and muscled frame are not the only familiar thing about this second stranger - it’s also his boyish face and apologetic smile he gives when his identity dawns on me.

The young man, the only other person to witness Thomasin’s murder over a fortnight ago, raises his hands as well. I know he intends to show he means no harm and I am not scared by his appearance. Instead, I am angry.

“Leave me the fuck alone!” I yell, my hands curling into fists at my side.

“Miss Fayne, please. There’s no need to be upset.” the older man calls from over my shoulder. “We will keep your secret just that - a secret. All we ask in return is you listen to what we have to say.”

“Please… Just listen.” the boy pleads. “We know what you are feeling right now. What we want to do is help.”

“Help how…?” I ask in suspicion.

I do not see the older man with my back turned on him, but I hear him sigh. In front of me, the boy I saved on that full moon night relaxes a little. He lowers his hands and extends one out for me.

“Help you get revenge.”