Her name was Bren. She'd already left the Abbey by the time Molly was a Hunter, but Molly knew her by reputation.

There was a popular story about Bren; C Hall had been tasked with dealing with two big Class Twos that had fallen in step, a rare event. The vehicle had spun out and rolled over as they approached their targets, and the wreck was loud and aggressive enough for the Gods to mark it as an attack. They had converged on the mangled truck, while most of the Hall was still dazed and bleeding. Bren had dislocated her shoulder in the accident, but she pulled herself free, and attacked both Gods on her own, leaping back and forth between them, buying enough time for the others to gain their bearings and join the fight.

Molly had heard the story a lot. Baxter had been the youngest member of C Hall that day, and was still around in Molly's time. She was fond of that story, told it often, and would roll up her sleeve to display the scar where a long piece of metal from the truck had pierced her forearm. Baxter always made Bren sound extra fierce.

The woman lying in front of Molly would have been in her mid-forties, but looked much, much older. Her eyes shifted toward Molly when she walked in, but there wasn't much focus there, and her breathing was shallow.

Molly looked around the room. She saw a photograph of Bren, her arm around a man with a beard. She saw paintings on the walls, hardly masterpieces, mostly water and trees, all signed with a neat blue B. She saw a well worn chair in front of the fireplace, which looked like a perfect place to curl up on a cold day like today.

She saw a life beyond the Abbey.

It wouldn't be long. Molly could just sit in that chair by the fireplace and wait. Many times she would do just that, even though there was a risk to it. You never knew much time you had after they passed. It could be an hour. It could be a week. If Molly were to doze off, she could wake up to a serious problem.

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But it looked like Bren was in pain. There was desperation in her unfocused eyes. Confusion. It was no way for a warrior to move on.

Molly sat on the bed.

"Shhh, darling," she said, putting her hand on Bren's shoulder. "Everyone's time comes. Yours is here now, but I don't want you to be afraid," she finished, repeating the familiar words.

She drew a short length of rope from her pocket, twisting her thumb as she did to activate it. She didn't really need the Blue for this, but it lent a numbing quality to the rope that made the journey easier.

There was no struggle. After a few seconds of pressure, the numbing agent took effect, and Bren's shoulders relaxed. Molly thought she saw a look of peace on the other woman's face.

At least, that's what Molly told herself.

She had to pull a bit longer, but It was over quickly. When she was done, Molly picked up Bren's arm, and put her thumb on Bren's wrist. Feeling nothing, she slipped the rope back in her pocket, but stayed on the bed a while. She leaned her head against the wall, closed her eyes, and listened to Baxter tell the story again, the one about an extra fierce Hunter fighting two Gods at once.

Mary was alive back then. Lots of people were.

She remembered Baxter's high pitched, rollicking laugh, her easy smile, and her unruly hair . The story was usually told in the Common Room, after someone had complained about having a rough day.

'You think you had a bad day, honey, well let me tell you about the day I should have died. I sure would have too, if it weren't for…."

Manda from D Hall would always wink at Molly and roll her eyes when the story was repeated, but she always stayed. 'Brennie Two Gods' was a popular tale. Maybe because Baxter, one of the oldest Hunters in the halls, would leap back and forth between two chairs like a little kid while she told it. Or maybe it was just because Bren was such a badass.

Molly opened her eyes and got up. It would be unwise to linger any longer. She closed Bren's eyes, and retrieved the container of gasoline from her bag. She doused the body, and the bedding.

"Safe travels, Bren," Molly said, and struck a match.

Moments later she was walking away from the house. She turned and watched until the flames took control.

It was starting to snow. Molly turned up the collar of her coat, and clutched her arms together in front of her, already starting to shiver.

Molly Gray job's was done, at least for today. She started walking.

There was a long way to go, and it was very, very cold.