Aneira scrubbed the kitchen floor, scraping their knuckles against the boards every so often and wincing at the pain. Their hands were uncharacteristically red from work they did. They’d washed every floor from the back of the house to the front. Every so often they would look up, expecting to see Roskva come inside for something only to remember she was gone. Then they’d go back to scrubbing the floor with a renewed sense of purpose.

A very commanding knock made them jump and nearly spill their bucket. Aneira jumped to their feet, a million horrible scenarios crowded their mind as they rushed to the door. Opening it, Aneira found themself face to face with the captain of the Wolves. Guards led by the prince (to become king) himself.

“Beg your pardon, don’t mean to disturb you.” He said, nodding from under his wolf shaped helmet. “But we’re after a fugitive of justice. She’s known to be dangerous and unpredictable. Have you seen anything?”

“No, I’ve been inside all day.” Aneira said.

“You wouldn’t mind if we searched your barn and henhouse, would you?” He asked.

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” Aneira said. “Let me put on my shoes and I’ll-”

“No need.” The captain gestured to the troop behind him and they slid off toward the back of the house. “May I?”

“Come in?” Aneira asked fearfully. “I’d rather you didn’t. I’ve nearly finished the floors.” Aneira opened the door to show the bucket and brush as well as the moved furniture.

“Very well, you live alone?” He asked, stepping back again.

“No, I live here with my sister.” Aneira said. “She’s off to town right now,. F-for her birthday.” Aneira didn’t know why she felt like she had to add that part.

“Oh, how old?” The captain asked.

“Eighteen.”

“You don’t seem that old. What happened to your parents?” He asked.

“They left the place to us. When they-” Aneira felt the chill over their shoulder as the memories tried to fight their way through. “Sorry.”

“No, no. I understand. It’s a hard thing to lose a parent.” The captain said apologetically. His troop returned with a salute.

“Search’s clear.” They announced.

“Good.” The captain said. He turned back to Aneira. “We’ll be nearby at the Frost Giant inn if you see or hear anything.” He tipped his helmet again.

“Good day,”

“Good day,” Aneira returned as the Wolves continued down the road to the next house. Again Aneira’s head filled with worry. What if the dangerous person had already caught up with Roskva? How dangerous and unpredictable was dangerous and unpredictable?

Aneira paced back and forth as they began to hyperventilate. Leaving a trail of mist in their wake. They bit down on their knuckle and yelped as their hands were still raw and worn from scrubbing.

“I… I must be hungry.” They rationalized. “Yes. That’s it. I should eat, I haven’t in a while and that will help take my mind off things.” Aneira shook their head as they hurried into the kitchen. They didn’t feel hungry but working on something made them feel a bit better.

They brought out the bread and butter. Circling the kitchen a few times indecisively before a little glimmer of mischief made itself known to her. They could do whatever. It was a little tinge of defiance that led them to the larder. A basement where mostly food was stored. They vanished down the dark steps, not needing light to see. A trick that always made Roskva’s mouth drop in awe when they were kids.

At the bottom of the stairs, Aneira’s smile fully formed on their face. Reaching for the shelves of homemade jams.

But the sight of something dripping on the shelf stopped them. At first it looked like maybe one of the jars had burst, but as Aneira followed the sight she realized that it wasn’t thick enough to be jam. Their heart raced as the trail led to a fully printed bloody handprint on the wall. A thousand horrible thoughts flashed before their eyes.

A cold blade pressed up against their throat and the air dropped several degrees.

“Shh. Please don't scream. Just hear me out.” The voice whispered weakly. Aneira felt it creeping in. The whispers.

“You're dying,” they whispered.

“What? No. I'm… it's not that bad.” The stranger pushed the blade tighter to Aneira’s neck. “Listen. My name is Lady Bellaire Callafon. My family have been in protection of the Queen and the royal family for years and I am… I am.” the woman shuddered as her breathing labored.

“So cold..” she muttered. Leaning on Aneira. “I'm searching for the lost prince. My family and I have been fra-” the woman dropped the dagger as she fell. Going down beside Aneira.

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Aneira ran to the stairs but stopped. The woman's wound held them still. The mists within them stirred wildly. Their breathing hastened as they heard the river coming closer. Demanding her to do something.

They fell to the injured woman's side. Quickly finding the bolt wounds from royal issued crossbows.

“What…?” The woman's dark eyes searched the darkness for Aneira.

“It's okay. Just.” Aneira felt jittery, shaking as they placed their hand over Lady Callafon’s face. “just relax. Be still and let the river come near.”

The noble woman stilled as Aneira's fingertips brushed down over her thick lashes. Closing her eyes.

The mists of the beyond filtered down the steps like a waterfall and Aneira hands shook as they covered the deep and fatal wounds.

No one was here to know.

No one had to see.

Aneira let the cold of death wash over them. Beneath their hands, the wounds closed and the woman's breathing became steady. The river slowed and its path turned away. It's whispers fading away.

Aneira let out a breath, for a second they felt their soul at peace.

But it was shattered once they looked down and realized there was still a known and wanted criminal unconscious in their larder. They pushed their hair out of their face and stared at the woman.

As the sun set, Aneira fixed up dinner. It felt odd to plate two servings in such a quiet kitchen. They opened the door down to the larder and lit the oil lamp. Tied at the bottom of the stairs, Lady Callafon glared at her from the nest of old quilts and pillows.

“You can’t keep me here forever!” She yelled.

“I’m sorry,” Aneira admitted, bringing the bowl of stew and slices of buttered bread down the stairs. “I panicked. I don’t want to keep you here, but I don’t know if you’re telling me the truth or going to kill me in my sleep.”

“So you’ve kept me tied up for?” The woman narrowed her eyes and wrinkled her nose in pure rage. “For what? How long has it been, you psychopath?!”

“About four hours.” Aneira said unimpressed. “You’ve been here for about four hours.”

“Ha ha.” Lady Callafon shifted onto her knees. “Wounds don’t heal in a matter of hours.”

“I.” Aneira started but paused. Nearly dropping the food onto the dirt floor. “I thought you did that.”

“Me?” Lady Callafon scoffed. Looking at the food with barely hid longing. “I possess no magic.”

“Oh,” Aneira said. Putting the food down on the floor. “I… I don’t know then.” Aneira knelt onto their knees and stared guiltily at the food they brought. Squeezing their knees and looking at everything but the woman.

“I guess, If you promise you won’t attack me, I can untie you.” Aneira said.

“I promise, I’m not out to hurt anyone. Honest.” Lady Callafon held her hands together and pleaded. Aneira looked at the woman’s big brown eyes, feeling a few butterflies in their stomach.

“Okay.” They whispered and reached over. Slowly untying the knot. Once freed, Lady Callafon snatched the bowl and began shoveling food into her mouth. Aneira watched in open amazement.

“You act like you haven’t had a decent meal in…”

“Years.” Lady Callafon said through the mouthful of bread and stew. “Ever since the King discovered my family and our quest.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Aneira said slowly. “Excuse me,” Aneira got up and headed back up the stairs.

“Where’re you going?” Lady Callafon accused.

“To my own dinner” Aneira said coldly. Shutting the larder door behind them. The butterflies in their stomach were fluttering up into their chest and making their heart beat funny. They felt like they were going to throw up, or sing, or scream, or dance or… Aneira covered their face. Their cheeks felt hot.

“I must be sick.” Aneira sighed. “Maybe I’m dying.” They crossed to the sink, dumping their dinner back into the pot and washing the bowl aggressively. Their stomach churned and their heart stopped at the sound of a tiny knock on the larder door.

“Yes?” They called, Lady Callafon opened the door sheepishly, holding her bowl in front of her and glaring at the floor.

“Can I ask my captor for more?” She snapped.

“I am not your captor. You can leave whenever you want.” Aneira went back to their bowl. “But if you want more then you may help yourself.” Lady Callafon came out of the larder and served herself a bit more. Creating more butterflies in Aneira’s stomach. Then the woman turned abruptly and returned back down the stairs. Shutting the door of the larder behind her, allowing Aneira to breathe again.

“She’s leaving soon. She has to leave soon.” Aneira promised themself. Still scrubbing the clean bowl.