They reached the end of the clearing, stepping up a narrow stone path that led to a gated trail. Pebbles skirted underneath their feet as they walked, the sounds of distant birds the only harmony filling the otherwise empty air. Donna kept to herself for the moments of respite after the clearing, as if in remembrance of the past. Carmilla kept the silence, in respects for any loss Donna may be experiencing, even going into her own moments of her fragmented memory.

They passed an old shack, the roof on its way of collapsing. It was until then, that Donna spoke.

“Was there someone important named Celeste?” She asked with a reverent whisper. Carmilla stopped in her tracks, watching the veiled woman skeptically, a brow rising. She looked to her feet, looking past the gravel. Her mind spiraling down to a point of disassociation.

“I…um, well yes… I think so,” She said, her brain jumbling out the words like a novice juggler.

“You think so?” Donna tilted her head to her.

“I can’t evoke much of my past, its been so long sinc-” She cut herself off, a mental calendar flipping though the years.

“Since, my rebirth,” She whispered into the fog.

“Rebirth?” Donna’s voice rose from the information.

“Its a long complicated story, I don’t even have the full story to begin with.” Carmilla huffed out, folding her arms tightly. Donna hummed, dropping the subject.

By that time, they neared an intricate gate that seemingly opened on its own. The hinges singing out their years of rust. Beyond that was covered by the thick curtain of smog and shrubbery.

“So, you work with plants?” Carmilla asked, the uncomfortable silence beginning to overwhelm her. Donna hummed out a short yes.

“A variety of sorts,” She explained curtly, “What about you?” She continued to look ahead, but Carmilla knew she was interested in what she had to say.

“I don’t do a whole lot anymore,” She said, “But I used to work with books. I’d bind them and keep them for safe keeping. Most of which were highly restricted, risky business but it was enjoyable.”

“What made you stop?” Donna asked, a question Carmilla was unsure how to answer.

“Life, perhaps?” She shrugged, ignoring the distasteful burn in her stomach from digging of her past. She knew that whatever happened was an unfortunate event. She just couldn’t dig it out of her cobwebbed brain no matter how hard she tried.

“Well, if you’re ever looking for something to do, I have some books that need some care,” Donna said, giving Carmilla a now frequent shudder in her stomach. She curled a brow, a teasing smirk forming her lips.

“Sounds like a reason to see me again,” She couldn’t help a bolstering laugh bubble up when Donna had lost her footing. Though the Doll maker kept silent, an awkward air around her as she picked up her gait. Carmilla brushed off the silent sting of her hush-hush reaction, her legs speeding up to fall back into pace with her. This time she favored the stillness, her eyes paying attention ahead, her ears attending to the scarce wildlife around them.

Eventually, the gloom had dissipated as they advanced a rope-bridge. Carmilla halted, the mention of an overpass earlier now becoming relevant.

“How old is that thing?” She asked as Donna continued a little ahead before looking back with a small tilt of her head. She turned slightly, hands together in her usual shy demeanor.

“As old as I,” She said, but her words not quite sounding certain. “Perhaps, closer to my parents…” Her voice trailed off at the mention of her folks, a sudden thick feel in the air. Ambivalence filled Carmilla's stomach as she went closer to examine the rotted posts of the bridge, her teeth mauling at the inside of her cheek.

She looked back to Donna, her figure daunting in her black attire, her height a tower compared to her. “Its not going to fall under us is it?” She asked.

Donna merely shook her head, reaching out her hand tentatively, offering it to her. “Hold my hand if you wish.”

Her stomach jumped, her heart quickening as she scoured reasons to justify the warmth tingling at the base of her neck. She declined Donna’s offer modestly with a shake of her head.

“No thank you, I can manage.” Though as she said it, she noticed the slight tremor in her throat.

“Are you sure?” Donna asked, following her lead onto the bridge, her body close behind protectively. Carmilla ignored the heat rising in her cheeks, her arms outstretched to grip onto the fraying ropes on each side of her. Her knees shaking as she began to shuffled across, her throat clamping up as she tried her hardest to focus on the other side.

“Yep, just dandy,” She said, trying to seem calm. But she knew she wasn’t when her eyes flickered to the white abyss below, a sharp gasp ripping through her. Mist had completely blanketed the bottom, making it seem never ending. That was the worst mistake she could’ve made when her life was teetering off a cliff. Her knees buckled, sending her to the finicky planks that could break under her weight. Donna was fast to catch her before her hands chafed the wood, her grip tight as she hoisted her up.

“Prudente…” Donna hissed out, her accent thick. Carmilla stood still, stuck in place as her heart felt bruising against her rib cage. Adrenaline stalling her lungs, nearly out of breath.

“O-on second thought,” She whimpered out, steadying herself, “Give me your hand.”

Donna spared her dignity by keeping any amusement to herself, placing her hand into Carmilla's shaking one. Now feeling extra secure, she held on tight to Donna’s hand, not having the courage to look at her. A step forward and she unsteady again, but she tightened her grip on cold fingers, her mind wondering about the fact that Donna’s skin felt calloused and worn. Most likely to the fact she made dolls. The image of her chafing away wood with her exposed forearms entering her brain. Heat pooled in her body, shame ridding it away instantaneously. And before she knew it, they had reached the other side, having her exhale in relief.

Donna pulled away now that they reached safety, her once cold hand now warm and missing in Carmilla's . The red head paused, her hand flexing open and closed, her fingers wanting the extra company. Biting down the disappointment she marched on, she could see the end already. Passing by another field of gravestones, a daunting difference coming in the form of morbid dolls hung from trees. The fog had now come back, making visibility a harder task.

“I’m guessing that’s to ward off trespassers?” Carmilla asked, pointing her chin to one of the dolls with a scratched face and missing leg. Donna looked up at the mention of the swaying toy.

“That was Angie’s doing.”

Carmilla nodded, finding it amusing that Angie would come up with such an idea. Though it didn’t seem too out of character for that rascal. “Has it worked?”

Donna looked at her silently. “Yes, and no.”

“How so?”

“Because you’re here.” She said, it could’ve been taken as an insult, but Carmilla found no bite in it. Instead there was a hint of playfulness in her words. She nodded, a wide smirk on her lips.

“Well I’ll be out of your hair soon enough,” She let out a breathy chuckle to hide her undertone of adversity.

“I hope that isn’t the case,” Donna confessed abruptly, her shoulders rising, seeming a bit shocked of her own words. Carmilla looked at her wide-eyed, a lightness in her chest making her smile like a dumb child.

“Well look at that, you’re not afraid of me?” She nudged at her, her hands up in a mock form of talons. Donna’s veil disturbed by a light scoff.

“I don’t fear anyone…”

Carmilla eyed her, before clasping her hands behind her back and huffing. “Somehow I don’t believe that,” She looked ahead as she said that, noticing that the mist had cleared to reveal a large gate. Its tiles warped wood with splintered chips protruding in every direction. And above held the sigil that was on the silver clip of her cape.

Her words seemed to put Donna in a restrained trance, the grip of her fists noticeably white. Her footsteps harsher upon the rocky trail.

‘Did I anger her?’

The distance of the gate grew closer, and so did the weight of parting with Donna. She could only classify it as dejection. She dared to think that she finally made a friend after decades of solitude. But something in the tense silence felt wrong. She couldn’t bare leaving things strained when they were just seeming to grow softer. She turned to apologize when a letter was shoved to her chest.

“When you reach the town’s square, you will see a merchant’s wagon; go there and meet the Duke.” Donna said with cutthroat instructions, “Give him this letter when you see him.”

Carmilla took the letter, albeit a bit stiff. The mood had changed so quickly she couldn’t tell if it was the bittersweet goodbye, or the earlier comment making Donna freeze over in indifference.

“A-alright,” She managed to say over the thick lump forming in her throat. “Goodbye, My Lady…” She said, the formalities slipping back.

“Carmilla,” Donna said, just as Carmilla turned from her. The doll makers voice with her name now something she knew she wished to hear over and over. She turned to her once again, this time bracing for anything. Startlingly, Donna moved closer. Bending to face her head on, the fabric of her veil caressing against Carmilla's cheek as she whispered into her ear.

“I accept your apology.” She said, alluding to the moment Carmilla tried to make amends before Donna had patched her up.

But as soon as she pulled close, she pulled away; leaving Carmilla in a stilled confusion. All the air in her lungs being ripping out, leaving her winded. Heat spread from her head and shot down to her toes, and enslaving tingle left behind to reside in her stomach.

Now at a friendly distance, Donna waved goodbye. “Come to me if you need anything.” She said with a hint of banter as she began the trek back. Carmilla stood in utter silence, battling with the conflicted feeling of what just happened.

“I’ll count on it…” She said to no one.