“Cadryn Bence,” began Sefton, “meet Felina Harlow, The Neeft’s tunnel and trap inspector.”

Felina fit the composite image of every southland thief Cadryn had grown up trying to keep away from his father’s storeroom. A compact, lithe frame, with wiry muscles, under olive skin, tanned dark from years on rooftops. She wore a tight linen vest the showed off scarred arms, from knives and falls in equal part. Her short, self-cut, hair framed hawk like features dominated by callous, green eyes.

“I hate you,” Felina said, holding out her hand.

Cadryn reached for it, expecting a trick, but she seized his forearm and pulled him downward into a one-armed hug. The force of it wrenching his wound painfully. “If you’ve wasted my time, I’m going to make you suffer.” She whispered into his ear sweetly.

“I believe you,” he said, pulling back, and the smug look of satisfaction on Sefton’s face told him this was only the beginning.

Things quickly unraveled, the footprints he’d seen yielded up little in the way of proof of prowling bandits or worse. Merely that someone was walking around. Felina even tried to claim they were her own, but a quick comparison of boot style rendered that argument pointless.

Three days in, and nothing but tracks to show, she lost it on him as they walked the outer wall of the Citadel, under racing cloud cover.

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“That’s it, I’m done,” Felina announced, and started walking for the Gardens.

“You can’t be done, there’s someone out there!” he said.

“Yeah?” she yelled back, “And there’s the sun, and the stench of the fuckin’ sea, too, there’s always something to complain about. Come find me when you see something interesting, I’m going back to the Night Shift.”

“Sefton gave you a task—“Cadryn said.

“No! You did,” Felina roared, rounding on him, she jabbed him in the chest with a finger. “I don’t answer to Sefton, alright? I’m a punitive, got pinched on my fifteenth of life, you get that? Mean’s the Army owns my ass, right? Means the Captain tells me where to go, what to do. Sefton whines his man got hurt, his man needs help. A man, you’re a damn boy, no older than me, if that . . . How do you think old Vaast felt, hearing that, eh? Hearing someone got hurt on his watch?”

Each time she asked a question, she jabbed him again, and Cadryn found himself backing against the parapet. Warm stone pressed into the small of his back, and his drenched tunic left him feeling stuck there. Felina’s eyes bore into his own, demanding answer.

“I don’t know, bad!?” he blurted.

She snorted, “Bad? For you? Come on, he felt sorry for me getting tied into your panic, Footprints! Told me to look after you as long as I liked, well. I don’t.” as Felina turned to leave, she froze. “Oh Balls,” she whispered.

Turning to look down the wall, Cadryn saw it too; a masked figure climbing up the wall. Their head came around, and spotting him, the invader quickly began descending back around the corner they’d appeared from. By the time they got to the far end of the wall, the intruder was gone.

“Now do you believe me?” Cadryn asked.

“Aye,” Felina said, holding out her hand to him again, they shook, and she muttered, loud enough for him to hear. “No need to be cock about it.”