The Huntress' eyes creaked open. As light flooded her vision and she became aware of the unfamiliar, soft feeling against her body, she felt her body tense up. She threw the (suspiciously light) weight off her body, tucked and rolled to the side, and landed on the floor in a crouch. Her keen eyes quickly took in her surroundings while her hands went to her sides for her weapons. She quickly memorizes the placement of the bed she was in as possible cover, the window as an escape route if she needs it and the desk behind her as an impromptu...oh.

The tension in her body began to leave her. She carefully stood up, relaxed her hands, and went through her memories of the previous day. The tour of the house, her decision to purchase it, paying the Merchant the fifty thousand gold for the house, and finally signing the Deed under the alias. She was lucky Gehrman had obtained the book on cursive writing and that she bothered to learn it. If she hadn't, she likely wouldn't have been able to provide proof that the house was hers.

That last thought made her freeze in place.

That's right. This was her house now.

...She felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment as she realized she was about to destroy her own bedroom. Thankful there was no one to see her...outburst, she went about fixing the sheets on her bed. She sighed while patting down the patchwork cover on the bed. In celebration of finally gaining a place to truly call her own, she had forgone going to the Dream during the night. Her body and mind had grown used to losing itself to the Dream when she closed her eyes. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling. It was simply a side effect of her battle through Yharnam. Being sent back every time she died, retreating from a bad engagement with a Bold Hunter's Mark, or using a lamp to return to the Workshop for extra bullets and vials.

However, while fruitful, going to the Dream was never what she considered...restful. Though she always came back refreshed and ready for whatever came next, something was always missing. Some human element of it that she had thought long lost to her ever since her transfusion. Another shattered part of her humanity, cast aside into the dark abyss of her mind.

But now?

Now she had a real home to call her own. And sleeping in the bed was a perfect way to fully cement that fact while going a long way towards breaking her habit of entering the Dream. And it did work...after she found herself at the Workshop once...or twice. She had made progress, at least.

She patted down her bed, marveling at how soft the...her mattress was. The last time she slept on something even approaching a bed was when she was a little girl living off the...

She frowned at the memory, shook her head while rubbing her cheeks, took a deep breath, and let it out in a relieved sigh. Now's not the time for thinking about the past. Now's the time to look to the future. She has her own house now, and this was her first night sleeping in her own bed. This is a new day!

And today she's going to...um.

Her expression fell as she placed a hand on her chin. She walked to the center of her room, eyes roaming her room with confusion.

"What exactly should I do?"

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"Sorry, Nick," Harlod placed down this hammer and shook his head. Black soot fell from his beard as he used his tongs to lift the still burning iron from his anvil. He gently placed it into the water barrel on his left, steam billowing up from it as the metal was submerged. He kept his gaze on his work while he responded to the young man, "Don't have any gold to spare for you."

"Really? Harlod?" Nick leaned back on the barrel he was on, his tattered and stained white jerkin bunching up around his arms. He crossed his legs, equally tattered brown trousers wrinkling as he did, "You've gotta have something. You always do."

"Not this time," the older man pulled the metal out, scrutinized it for a moment, before grunting in displeasure and putting it to the side, "Need to save as much as we can. Lescatie's fall has finally started hitting us and there's no telling if I'll be able to make enough to support my wife, my son, and you. Please understand."

Nick raised a hand while giving the blacksmith a small smile, "Don't worry, old friend. I get it. Family comes first, after all."

He hopped off the barrel, his auburn hair bobbing along with his movements. He winked towards Harlod while walking off into the city streets, "Wish I could stay, but duty calls. Can't let Mags be our only source of income now, can I? Make sure to name the kid after me!"

Harlod let out a hearty laugh, "I'll do that, as soon as you get an actual job! I'm still looking for an apprentice you know!"

But Nick was already gone, disappeared into the bustling city streets. He had ducked into one of the many alleys that acted as the boundary between the main part of Pran, and the Slums, his home. Nick waited until he was sure no one had followed him, then punched a wooden wall in frustration.

"Damn it," his palm went to his face, a frown creasing his features, "Not even Harlod could help me." Harlod was the third stop on his daily routine of begging. He wasn't proud of it, but it was the only real way for him to make any income. Maggie's statues and trinkets were nice, but they weren't bringing in enough gold. Especially, since their Land Lord kept upping their rent every month.

Nick could hear his teeth grinding at the mere thought of that bastard. Nick was many things, but he prided himself on his wit. He knew why the rent seemed to keep getting higher. It was the same trick most scum in the slums used: raise the rent, then "offer new methods of paying." Nick had seen Montgomery pull the same trick with two previous female tenants. They had lived near their house, and came by sometimes to play with Marcus. When they accepted Montgomery's offer was when he started to notice the changes. They would dress differently, come home late, hobble instead of walk, and eventually refused to come out of their homes entirely.

If that motherfucker thought he would let him do that to Maggie, he had another thing coming! Nick wanted to knock the son of a bitch's teeth out...but he couldn't. If he hit first, Brigid would be able to pin the blame on him. He'd make use of whatever dirty trick he had to ensure Nick's reputation was in complete shambles. Nick wouldn't put it past the fat fuck to bribe the guards to get him thrown in jail. Then how would he protect Maggie and Marcus?

Normally, Brigid's rent manipulation wouldn't be a problem. But the loss of Lescatie, while not devastating, was starting to affect the town's commerce. Harlod saying no wasn't a good sign. Maybe those rumors of people planning to leave Pran weren't complete crap. Would explain why the tailor and carpenter Nick had visited looked so busy. The Frontier had moved up, and people wanted to get as far away from it as possible.

Unfortunately, that made Nick's situation all the worse. He cursed while thinking about his next move. He had more people to talk to, but there was now a high likelihood of getting turned away. Going from person to person only to come up empty-handed did not sound good to him. Maybe he could wait until the afternoon. He noticed people tended to be more generous when...wait.

He stopped walking and listened intently to his surroundings. Separated from the distracting sounds of the masses, he managed to pick out a single sound. A familiar one.

The hiss of steel being drawn from leather.

"Oh fuck," Nick said out loud. He shook his head while turning around to see a familiar face. He put on a fake smile as three teens about his age advanced down the alley he was in. He put both his hands in his pockets and said, "Revor! Good to see you, again! How ya been?"

"Fine," the middle young man replied nasally, twirling a knife in his right hand. His smooth, leather jerkin matched his trousers, not a single wrinkle on his clothes as he walked. At his sides walked two identical boys each with a knife in their hands. They stopped halfway to Nick with sneers on their faces. Revor pointed his knife towards Nick, hand going to the crooked nose on his face, "But I'll be a lot better once I pay you back for this!"

"Riiight," Nick nodded along, his eyes taking in his environment. He gathered up some saliva and spat it onto the ground, "Normally I'd mention the last two times you tried this same song and dance, but to honest, I got some shit to work through. And since punching a wall isn't very effective, I'll use you instead."

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Revor stepped forward but stopped when the boy on his left barred his way with an arm. The young man spoke with a low, professional tone, "The boss is willing to offer you one last chance, Nick. Join the Vipers and we'll take care of everything. Montgomery won't be a problem anymore."

"Gee, that sounds great. I'd be more inclined to listen if it wasn't coming from three armed men who had to corner me so I'd listen."

"You're not an easy man to talk to," the boy on Revor's right spoke up. Nick winced at his high pitched voice, "The last guy we sent came back with broken ribs."

Nick shrugged, "Hey, if your boss wants me to join his gang, maybe he should stop sending stab happy morons who can't take a hint. Or, here's a thought, he could come talk to me himself. Unless he's too busy to talk to an old friend nowadays?"

"Why should he bother with trash like you?!" Revor shouted, trying to get past his comrade's arm, "You're fucking trash digging through scraps compared to him!"

"Won't deny that," Nick stepped to his right and picked up a stray rock. It wasn't much bigger than his hand, but it would do, "But I was hoping he'd remember he used to be trash too. Back in the day. But enough about the past. Let's get down to business. Any of you know how to play catch?"

Before any of them could answer Nick threw the rock right at the boy on the left. He didn't wait to see if hit. He turned on his heel and booked it towards the opposite end of the alleyway. He knew this place better than any of those chumps. All he needed to do was get through the exit, lose them in the market crowd, then turn a few corners and he'd be home free. He focused his eyes on the gathering of people beyond the buildings on his left and right...only to skid to a halt as two boys stepped in to block his path.

His eyes went wide as the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Quickly, he ducked in time to dodge a swipe from behind him. Spinning on his heel he slammed a fist into Ravor's stomach, sending the armed man reeling. He placed his back against the wall to his right and raised his fist as his assailants closed in. His eyes were defiant as he stared the gang members down. Briefly, he remembered what Maggie had said to him just yesterday when she got home.

He chuckled and shouted to the boys, "Well! Come on then! Let's see which one of you has got the balls to bring me down!"

The boy he had thrown the rock at, blood streaming down his forehead, yelled and aimed his knife at Nick's side. Nick stepped into the attack, readying an uppercut to the larger boy's jaw...

...Only for everyone to freeze and Ravor yelled out in pain.

Nick eyed the exit as his attackers turned their attention to Ravor's scream. He turned to see who his rescuer was...only to feel his body freeze in its tracks at the sight of the seven-foot-tall, black-clothed stranger holding Ravor up by his arm.

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The Huntress stared down at the young man struggling in her grip. She held the hand with the knife by the wrist, squeezing with just enough pressure to stop him from slipping away. He thrashed about, shouting obscenities while attempting to strike his captor with his legs and free arm. They swung futilely through the air while the Huntress turned her gaze to the rest of the boys.

The four who froze at the sight of her were likely working together. Possibly a gang of thieves or some such. The young man they had pressed up against the wall must have done something to draw their ire, probably something to do with her captive's broken nose. Their clothes were relatively well maintained with no holes or obvious tears anywhere. That meant they were well-financed and could afford to clothed their members. They could arm them with basic weapons as well if the knives were any indication. Whoever led this band of ruffians knew what they were doing.

That made things a bit complicated.

The Huntress sighed, shaking her head as her captive shouted to his allies, "Why are you idiots standing there?! Get this fucker off me!"

His companions now snapped out of their stupor, started advancing on the Huntress. The tallest of the group stayed behind to prevent the citizen from escaping while they weren't looking. The Huntress' eyes narrowed. Looks she would have to improvise.

When the three thieves were a few feet away, she let go of her captive's arm. As he fell from her grip, she placed a hand on the back of his head and pushed it towards the hard ground. A wet, crunching sound made his companions step back in surprise. She didn't waste the opening, kicking off the ground towards the middle thief. She stood up straight and stared the young man down while he gasped in fear for a few moments.

He sneered, attempting to stab the Huntress in her kidney. She deftly knocked his arm to the side and shoved her knee into his stomach. She grabbed his shoulder as he bent double and brought him around to her right. With a single kick, she launched him into the enemy on her right. As both of them fell to the ground she felt a sharp pain on her left side. Her eyes met the thug on her left's, as he smiled while holding his knife.

That smile slowly disappeared, his mouth opening in horror as the Huntress simply grabbed the handle of the small blade. She slowly pulled it out while keeping her eyes on his rapidly paling face. Once the knife was out of her body, she shoved the boy to the ground and turned to the address them all. She spoke with a calm, cold, firm voice, "I'm giving you all one chance to run away. I'd suggest you take it, else I start breaking your bones."

The three gang members scrambled to their feet and ran for the exit. They shoved past their "leader", pushing him down as they tried to get away from the terrifying stranger. The leader sneered at the Huntress, blood seeping through the gaps in the hand he held over his face. He waved his knife at her as if to say, "This isn't over! You'll pay for this! You'll see!" Then he turned and ran alongside the rest of his men.

The Huntress turned around, planning to assist the cornered young man...only to stop and stare as he punched the taller boy in the face. His arms were bleeding, but he kept up his assault, knocking the knife from the taller boy's hand. He didn't let up, hooking his foot behind the bigger lad's heal. His foe fell to the floor barely avoiding hitting his head on the cold cobblestone below. He moved his arms up to protect his face from the red-haired young man. The thug could do nothing as a hail of blows descended upon his head. His arms soon gave way, and one good hit to his temple made his eyes roll into the back of his head.

Breathing heavily the young man stood up, rubbing his chin with a bloody hand, then spat a glob of blood onto the unconscious assailant's face. He stepped towards the Huntress, looking up at her with an appreciative smile, "Didn't think I would make it out of that one. Thanks for your help."

The Huntress nodded, "You are most welcome, sir. But, if you don't mind my asking, why were those thieves attacking you."

"Why else?" he shrugged, "They thought I was an easy mark. I told them to fuck off, and they didn't take kindly to it. Why did you decide to help me?"

The Huntress matched his shrug, "I was heading to the market to purchase some food for dinner when I spotted the first three ruffians duck into this alleyway. I saw the glint of the sunlight on their knives and decided to follow them. It seems to be a good thing I did. Also, your arms are bleeding. I can take care of it if you wish."

"Ah, a good samaritan? Don't get many of those these days. And don't worry about the cuts. They're shallow and should heal on their own. Thanks for the offer though," the boy nodded while crossing his arms. His eyes narrowed as he took a step forward, "You look...familiar. Do I know you from some...Oh, hey!

He pointed at the Huntress' clothes, "You're the one who came into Montgomery's place after me!"

The Huntress tilted her head in confusion, memories of her visit to the Merchant flashing past her eyes. She stopped at the thought of the young man who pushed past her as she entered. A quick comparison confirmed what the young man said. She chuckled slightly, "And you're the boy who was leaving just as I arrived. This world certainly behaves in strange ways."

"Ain't that the truth. Names Nick, by the way," he held his right hand out for a shake, which the Huntress returned. Then he turned around and started to walk away, "Thanks again for the help. Love to stick around, but I've got to go to work. Hope to see you again sometime."

"A moment," the Huntress called, stopping the boy in his tracks. He tilted his head back to look at her as she spoke, "I was at sir Montgomery's as I was looking to purchase a home. I have just moved in here, and do not know my way around town. Could you, perhaps, be my guide? Simply for today."

"Hmmmn," Nick turned so his left side was facing towards the Huntress, "if you're new, why not go get one of the guards? They hardly do anything 'cept sit around and get drunk. I'm sure you'd give them a reason to get off their asses."

The Huntress nodded, "True, but it's clear you know your way around Pran better than they ever could. Why else would you be traveling down this alleyway? Most people would avoid going to a place where they could be ambushed or robbed as you almost were."

Nick was silent for a time with his eyes roaming the Huntress' body. She watched as he shifted his weight from foot to foot, obviously debating if it would be worth it to accept her request. Eventually, he turned to face her fully, "Ok, but I'll need some compensation. Times are pretty tough for the downtrodden like myself. You understand, I hope?"

Under normal circumstances, the Huntress would mind. She'd bring up how she could've left well enough alone and let him die in the backstreets from blood loss. But she didn't.

Because she did understand.

The boy's tattered shirt and pants, blue eyes that had seen more than any child should ever see, the way he brought down an opponent a good foot taller than him, the confident way he carried himself. Everything about him reminded her of the childhood she left behind. Going entire weeks without even a loaf of bread to eat, having to fight five orphans at a time when the gangs tried to take her food, having to run when the bigger gangs started to make moves.

She understood his plight all too well.

She nodded, "I understand. How much will it cost?

"How much you willing to spend?"

"Would five hundred gold be sufficient?"

Nick stared at the Huntress for a brief moment. Then he chuckled, "Heh. Good one. Five hundred gold, hah! No, seriously, how much are you willing to spend?"

"Five hundred gold," the Huntress repeated without a hint of sarcasm, "My home only cost me fifty thousand, so I plenty left over. Though I only brought one thousand with me when I left."

Nick stood there and stared at the strange woman standing before him. He waited with bated breath for her to drop the other shoe. To say she was joking, or to try and hide a giggle behind her gloved hand. Anything that would prove she was lying to him.

She never did.

The gears in his mind began to turn just as his jaw hit the floor.