The First Day

It’s not unfamiliar, the feeling of waking up in a stranger’s bed. What is unfamiliar, however, is waking up after said stranger. I naturally rise early, since my body is used to waking with the sun and making the most of the daylight hours. Even when I sleep in a building that internal clock still wakes me early, so normally I leave once I’ve woken up and dressed myself. 

The shop keeper’s side of the bed feels cold, so she must have risen quite some time ago. Grabbing the shirt of hers that she gave me to wear last night, I put it back on as I fail to suppress a shiver caused by the faint breeze entering through the window. It’s light out, and the birds are happily chirping away, but I can tell that it’s still early in the morning. Most people won’t have woken yet. The shop keeper didn’t provide me with any trousers yesterday and she must have taken mine off to be cleaned so I take the black pair she discarded last night and wear them instead. They’re baggy on me, since she is both taller and more muscular than me, especially in the leg department. Different kinds of muscles, I remind myself, trying not to feel like my body is somehow lesser than hers just because we’re different. Besides, she seemed to like my body exactly how it is, if last night is any kind of indicator.

My body is a tool that I use permanently. I need to treat it well.

My eyes catch on a little paper note left beside where I was sleeping, so I pluck it up and squint at the words. Holding it at an arms length, my eyes finally focus on the words. 

‘Temi, I’m collecting ingredients in the woods with my dogs, Major and Minor (the mother and daughter who warmed to you yesterday). Make yourself at home and if you go out, please use the back door rather than the one in the shop. Thank you x’

She even left me a kiss - the single letter has coaxed a small smile to my lips. How silly. The shop keeper is so openly affectionate that I keep being surprised by it. She treats me as if I’m her real lover and not someone who sold my body to pay for a poison. I wonder if she lets many people pay using…other means, I can’t help but wonder. She seems so accustomed to this, especially with how she wrote up that contract immediately. Plus she seemed to be experienced in the ways of pleasure, so I have to assume that she has done this at least once before. Right?

And then there’s the fact that she knows my name. Both Temi and Artemisia. She said we’ve met before but I’m certain that I would’ve remembered her. I know I’ve met many people in my travels but I am observant. Surely I would remember someone like the shop keeper? She stands out in so many ways. A brief thought flips through my mind at the thought that perhaps she was sent to apprehend me by my mother, or perhaps even Apella, but…surely not. Mother hardly cared when I left and I haven’t seen Apella since we were children. And besides…the shop keeper seems to be a good person. Far better than Mother, Apella and definitely better than the monster I’m hunting. She would never have anything to do with any of them. 

I need to trust my instincts, since they’ve never failed me.

They’ve never failed me, but they did fail Oria.

I failed Oria. 

It’s my fault she’s dead.

It’s my fault that she was killed by-

I have to get out of here. I can’t keep thinking about these things. I throw open the door and rush down the stairs, quickly searching through the shop in order to find my bow, quiver and clothing. I have my little bag with me - not like it contains much anyway - but I absolutely can’t leave without my bow. I need it to survive. I need it to kill that monster.

The poison. 

It hasn’t been made yet. If I leave then I’m abandoning it. But it doesn’t matter - it’ll be harder but I can complete my hunt without it. I can kill myself without it, too. 

Finally locating my bow and quiver, I hurriedly search through the shop for anything that might be of use to me. It’s a horrible thing, to steal from another. That’s never stopped me in the past, though.

It’s even worse to steal from someone who showed me such kindness, I think as I stare at my clothing hanging up to dry, the mud and blood stains scrubbed clean. She must have spent quite a while trying to get them clean. 

Only fools are so kind to others.

I can’t stay here. Not when being around the shop keeper allows me to think of other things. I have to stay focused on my hunt. I’ve worked so long for this - spent years training, spent even longer setting up the perfect plan to ensure that I will succeed. 

I’m going to kill my father. And I’m going to make sure that no one can heal him. He will not survive me. 

I will have my vengeance. 

I will do this for Oria.

For the girl I loved. For my best friend, who was tortured to death by my father when we were just children. All because of me.

This is the very least I can do. I can’t move on, I can’t move past this. It’s been sixteen years since that day, when she was just twelve years old. She was a child. And so was I. I know I shouldn’t blame myself for something my father did, but still. 

I can’t move on.

I’m stuck in the past.

I’ve lived my whole life just for revenge.

That’s hardly a life at all, but it doesn’t matter. My feelings, my emotions - none of it matters. The only thing that is important is ensuring my own success over my father. 

I will hunt him down and I will send a poison arrow directly through his heart.