Mouse found a lonely shed amid the storm. Not the rendezvous point, but by now she was lost and her fingers were turning white and her whole body felt numb despite how much Spirit she boosted through her system, so she figured it was either go in or leave her pursuers a nice little ice sculpture to find out in the middle of nowhere.

The tiny building was half-buried, so she had to dig the entrance out. She bent low, feeling the whole time like a pilot in her own body, naked hands shoveling out snow like a couple of slow, automatic cranes. More than once she closed her eyes and almost didn't open them back up again, tempted by the sweet release of sleep. It took a jolt of pure will to keep herself awake, keep herself moving, until there was finally enough space to crack open the door. The only thing in her way now was an old, rusty lock that a desperate hammer blow with the pommel of her knife made short work of.

The air was just as cold inside, but the lack of direct contact with an endless, biting gale was enough to bring Mouse to her knees in relief. She held herself for a while, shivering uncontrollably and unable to think, too exhausted and cold to do much more than just quietly be.

But this wasn't enough. A sharp intake brought Mouse to her feet again, and despite every part of her screaming to lie on the ground and close her eyes she looked around the room. Making a fire was dangerous in a situation like this—the smoke would announce her if the mere presence of the shed didn't already—but she didn't have any other choice. Her Spirit alone wouldn't take care of her frostbite.

The shed wasn't very big, but its emptiness made it seem more spacious than it might've appeared from the outside. Some shelves spanned each side, mostly empty save for a few big jars and, thank god, piles of old, dusty cloth. Curtains, or maybe even rugs? Whatever they were, they'd make good kindling and even better blankets. If only she hadn't gotten rid of her parka during the infiltration...

Regardless, Mouse's training now came into play. She took apart one of the shelves, piled it up with a few of the curtains, and soon had a flame at the center of the room whose low heat felt like bliss on her skin and whose smoke trailed up through the small holes on the ceiling. This was no doubt abandoned land, it being in such a state of disrepair, so she also didn't have to worry about its owners stumbling in and finding some runaway girl squatting in their property.

Sighing, Mouse finally plopped herself down in front of the fire, one of the curtains wrapped tightly around her. She didn't mind how dusty everything was, or how loud the storm beat against the shed's walls. Within moments the girl lay down, closed her eyes, and slept.

- - - — MKII — - - -

Waking up, Mouse knew at once that she wasn't alone.

Bolting up, the girl looked wide-eyed over the now smoldering fire to see Jason sitting casually right across from her. Head propped up on an arm that was itself propped on a raised knee, the Ranger kept his sword nestled in his other arm, sheathed tip planted on the dirt ground and handle leaning against the crook of his neck. Unlike her he was dressed for the weather, a thick blue jacket coating his form, zipped open and unhooded now that he was indoors.

Nothing about him spoke of movement—not even that tense, prowling stillness of a predator about to pounce. He just stared at her in silence, content to simply sit and almost revel in her shock.

The damn fire. Mouse glanced down at it, jaw locked. She shouldn't have been so quick to make it. She could've found some other way.

Following her gaze, Jason was the one to break the silence. "You didn't mess up, if that's what you're thinking." When Mouse didn't respond, not even bothering to look up at him, he sighed. "I could barely see the smoke even from like fifty feet away. Snow's too thick out there. I probably would've missed you if I'd been walking just a little further off. Really, I just got lucky."

And as his fortunes had risen, hers had fallen in turn. Mouse's vision now narrowed on his sword, the most glaring threat, and her mind instantly began to take account of things. She heard the storm still surging outside, and she felt the blanket she'd wrapped around her, trying to gauge if it would let her live through however long she'd have to wander in it.

"I wouldn't try running," Jason said, smiling ruefully. He even had the audacity to sound sorry for her. "Even if I let you—and I definitely won't—you wouldn't make it. Storm's just as thick as before, and you barely lived long enough to reach this place from the looks of it." He straightened a bit, reaching up to rub some of the tiredness from his eyes. "Then again, I didn't have the greatest time out there either. Looks like we're both stuck for now."

With his face half-covered, Mouse felt the overwhelming impulse to leap right for him with her knife. She felt its cold edge in her hand under the blankets, and thought how easy it would be to slip it into his neck before he realized how stupid it had been to take his eyes off of her.

Except she felt a vague pressure at the back of her mind, and so knew he wasn't quite as distracted as he seemed. His Spirit Flow seemed almost a natural part of him, something exuding from every slow movement of his hand, every slight shift of his torso. Had he been baiting her? Or was he just that confident?

Either way, Mouse didn't move. This man looked young—not much older than Fox—and yet he seemed somehow older. Absurdly, the only point of comparison Mouse could find for him was Father. There was something similar in their calm control, their complete lack of worry, and it was because she knew Father that Mouse could come to some understanding of her current position.

The thought of being stuck in this shed seemed less of a problem for him than it did a brief annoyance, and Mouse herself wasn't even that. She now sat before someone so used to things going his way that the very concept of an alternative couldn't even produce anger, only a sort of disaffected humor. It was unnerving enough that the girl's silence came just as much from genuine trepidation as it did from her years of training.

"So, we got a couple options here," Jason said. "You just ignore my advice and try leaving, but that won't end well even if you do somehow make it out. You could also try fighting me straight up, but, uh, I would really not recommend that, 'cuz I'd rather not have to beat up two little girls in one day."

He waited for some response to that, and when all he received was the same expressionless stare she'd been giving him the whole time he just shrugged. "Then there's the third choice, where we chill out here 'till this blizzard dies down and don't try to kill each other. That one's way more up my alley, personally. Let's start with some names. Mine's Jason, what's yours?"

Still no response.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Hm, the silent treatment, huh? Guess that's fair enough. So... you like murdering people, or was this whole thing just a one-off?"

Nothing.

"Think your friends got away fine, or you think they're both out there buried under the snow somewhere?"

Mouse's face dipped in the slightest possible frown.

"Aha!" Jason leaned forward over the fire, smiling with genuine satisfaction. "Okay, so you're not deaf at least."

Mouse's frown dipped lower. "I don't have anything to say to you."

"And you're not mute either! Good, that's good... Alright, let's try something more small-talky, then." Jason yawned, propping his head up by the cheek. "What's the deal with your Trick? Back there it looked like you could just turn invisible, but then you went and blew out everyone's eardrums."

The ring. Fidgeting around a bit, Mouse found it nestled in her pocket. She'd completely forgotten about it, but it was probably the most viable option she had right now. If she could somehow distract him for long enough, she could slip it on and maybe...

"Why..." Mouse licked her cracked lips, deciding to play along. "Why haven't you killed me yet?"

Jason blinked, surprised. "You're, like, nine or something. I don't even wanna hurt little girls, so why would I wanna kill them?"

"I'm your enemy. I killed that Artificer, and I've killed a lot more people."

"Okay, are you trying to convince me to kill you?" He raised a brow at her, some humor in his tone, and shook his head. "You're literally a child. A dangerous child, sure, but still. Far as I can tell, the only way any of this makes sense is if someone's forcing you to go around assassinating people."

Something in his eyes gave the words more weight than the light tone with which he said them. Mouse looked back down at the fire, realizing all at once that behind his relaxed demeanor Jason looked at her and felt... pity. For her of all people. It was surreal and even a bit insulting.

"You wouldn't understand," she muttered.

Her and Owl and Fox, the three of them weren't forced to do anything. They'd been raised to do it. Death was all they knew, probably all they could know. They had their function, and they performed it well. Who was he to look at her and feel pity?

Jason sat quietly for a moment, before finally rubbing his chin with a sigh. "My mom died a few years back. I mean, she went MIA, but that's about as good as dead as far as I'm concerned. Then my dad left me and my brother on our own, dropped us just like that. It was hard, y'know? There I was, barely in my teens, and all of a sudden I got a whole other kid to take care of by myself. Had to find a way to pay rent, food, all that stuff. Mal—that's my brother, by the way—he's a real trooper, but I can tell it's been hard on him too. He just gets so sad and angry sometimes. Honestly, I'm glad we met Stretch when we did. He's my best friend now, but back when we met—"

Mouse cut in, face twisted in confusion. "What does any of this have to do with anything…"

The Ranger tilted his head. "Oh, you know, just... sharing stuff about myself."

"... Why."

Jason shrugged. "You said I wouldn't understand, right? Well, sure, but we literally just met, so of course I wouldn't understand you. That just means we have to get to know each other."

Mouse shook her head. "What's the point?"

"Duh, so I can help you." Mouse's face snapped to his, and he gave her a bemused grin. "What? Don't you need help?"

"I don't need anything."

"Right, says the kid stranded in the middle of a blizzard."

Mouse drew into herself, fingering her new ring Talisman, knowing she should be on the lookout for an opening but feeling somehow conflicted. "Why would you want to help me?"

Jason's face tightened, and he looked at her, steady and severe. "Let me ask you again. Do you like murdering people?"

There was no longer any humor in him. Instead Mouse found a sort of steadiness in his gaze, a searching glimmer, and part of her wanted to run from it, afraid of what would happen once it caught her. But another part, one she'd nursed in secret, bubbled up from her chest. They'd gestated during those few moments of warmth and joy, those times when Fox said something that made her want to smile, or when she could feel Owl's intentions as if close enough to read her thoughts, or with Anisa when she'd dressed well and talked with normal girls and, for a brief time, pretended not to be who she really was.

"It doesn't matter if I like it or not," she said, voice wavering.

"It should matter."

"I..." Breath catching, she remembered Father and Hound, and felt afraid. Then she remembered Owl and Fox, which was worse because now she found herself contemplating an entirely alien thought, a different kind of hope from the one they provided, and rather than fear their memory suddenly gave her shame. "It's not about liking. There's no choice."

Jason nodded, considering her words. "What if I gave you a choice?"

Mouse balled up the ring in a tight fist and held it with both hands. They shook under the cover of her makeshift blanket as her mind ran through a different sort of escape. She hadn't destroyed those documents, had failed her mission, and Father would not be happy should she return. But she'd almost died in the blizzard. Who was to say she hadn't?

"Why do you care?" she asked, almost breathless. "You d-don't know anything about me."

Now it was Jason's turn to look at the fire. He sat thinking for a long time, frowning to himself, but when he spoke his voice was sure. "Dr. Faye was a good person. She didn't deserve you killing her. But you didn't deserve being put on the spot to kill her either." He chuckled softly. "Call it naive, but I think everyone deserves better than what they usually get, especially kids like you. I guess... I just wanna be the sort of person who can always give that better option."

He glanced up at her. "So, what'll it be? You want out?"

Mouse simply stared, and this time it wasn't a matter of not wanting to speak. The kindness in his face and in his voice struck her, and she found herself drawn to it as she'd been drawn to the flame before her, believing for a second that his warmth might not be put out even if she did tell him everything.

But no, not even he could look at her as he did now if he came to know the whole truth. She couldn't tell him about Anisa or the countless others, about Father and the years spent under his watch. She couldn't tell him that even now she didn't feel particularly sorry for Dr. Faye or any of the other people she'd killed. A piece of her heart had long ago been cut out, the part that could allow her to feel pity the way he had for her, and there was no getting it back.

Except, maybe...

Maybe...

"You... My..." Mouse paused, words jittering, her face flushed with nerves. "You can call me K-Kit... Kitty. That's my name..."

Something eased in Jason's shoulders, and the smile he gave her now was reassuring, maybe even a bit amused. "Okay, Kit. Welcome aboard."