Seeking serenity within the company of our new horses was moderately rewarding, though I did little other than pet their necks for mutual reassurance. I was beyond exhausted, of course, but I was terrified of sleep. One of the shire mares with a chestnut coat was kind enough to allow me to lean on her side, where I fought with all my might to keep my eyes open.

“It’ll be okay…” I murmured aloud, more to myself than her. “Keep up the good work, and we’ll all make it through. We’ll get to Chairo, then Paradise, and get someone else to deal with all the other problems… Right?” Amos might be my problem, though. And what if Relias won’t accept any substitutions? …What if we get there too late?... What if he figures out where I am?…

“Reynard says her name is Cinder,” Vernie wandered over, holding up the note that had been attached to the wagon.

“Cinder is a cute name.” I straightened myself slowly, forcing myself to concentrate on Vernie’s words.

“The brown mare over there is Tana. The bay next to her is Sela, and the black mare who has already settled for the night is Maren.” Vernie put her arm on my shoulder. “Maybe we should do the same?”

“Oh…” I nervously glanced back at the wagon, wondering if Nora was still awake. “I can… take watch first.”

“The only thing you could watch right now is the back of your eyelids! You need sleep.”

“Did Raelynn… ever have nightmares?” I asked hesitantly.

“Nightmares?” Vernie pursed her lips. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

“Yeah.”

“Putting off sleep’s only going to make it worse,” Vernie sighed. “Trust a professional. Let’s set up for the night, get you out of your armor, and I’ll tell you about my first big heist, okay?”

I followed her suggestion, mostly because I didn’t have the mental stamina to develop a believable reason why I shouldn’t. I drew the line at taking the armor off, however.

“I just feel better with it on for now,” I said after she returned from the back of the wagon with my bedroll. “I’m sure I’ll get used to it.”

“Suit yourself! Though... I guess you already have,” she laughed. “A bed of hay in the wagon might be more comfortable without it, however.”

“I don’t want to disturb the others…”

“No noise you’d make would come close to Aleph’s snoring,” Vernie retorted. “He’s finally able to stop worrying about Furball.”

“I’ll stay under the stars tonight,” I reaffirmed, carefully rolling out my shabby bedroll. I made quite a show of pulling out the corners and getting it just right without ever attempting to rest in it.

“I’m waiting,” Vernie said, sitting cross-legged in the grass, her arms folded in front of her. “No stories until you lay down. “

“I am an adult, you know,” I groused sleepily.

“Yes,” Vernie agreed. “A very stubborn one. Come on now, this one’s your favorite.”

I sighed heavily and plopped down with a clatter. “There. Regale me with the tale of your greatest heist.”

“No, I said the first one, not the greatest.”

“Oh..? So it’s not about the ring?” The web novel always had her talking about the time she swiped the signet ring of the King of Turri and used its most salient feature to fuel a shopping spree that even the wealthiest archduchess could only dream of. Neither the ring nor any reasonable facsimiles she had made from it were recovered, either. Ultimately, the King had to recommission his own family crest. Depending on the goal, certain story parts would be shared or omitted from each subsequent telling. I liked to hear about how all the stuff was given away capriciously to those in need. It helped make it seem it was done with an altruistic outcome in mind instead of just sheer skill and selfish will alone.

“This was way before that little escapade!” Vernie chuckled. Little escapade?!

“So… what was it, then? What did you steal?” I couldn’t help but ask after reviewing my hazy memories of other heist tales.

“Guess you’ll just have to listen to find out,” Vernie smiled and cleared her throat.

I found myself in yet another village with a forgettable, throwaway name. By this point in my life, my reputation for being a skilled pickpocket had already preceded me. But this tiny town held a trove of treasures, and I knew securing its pinnacle would only add to my prestige.

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It wouldn’t be easy. My colleagues had made numerous attempts to abscond with just one item from the hoard, only to be caught and sentenced to the severest of lashings. The meticulously crafted treasures were under the surveillance of a whole cadre of gruff, battle-ready professionals, so I would need to enlist the perfect partner to carry out my objectives.

The dapper elder I found in the shadows was simply known as Whiskers, a moniker well suited for his frame and form. He was not interested in splitting the prize with me, but he demanded his hefty service fee upfront. Luckily, I had enough coin to meet his demands.

Our roles were well defined: I would handle infiltration and extraction while he took center stage as a master of distraction. We’d hit the target location at the change of shift in the late morning when general disarray would cloak our movements.

“What was the target location?” I asked with a frown, trying to imagine where this was going.

“Later, later!” Vernie silenced me with a wave of her hand. “You’re interrupting!”

Whiskers made his grand entrance through the front door. He was purposefully overdressed in the most ostentatious bowtie specifically selected for the occasion, catching the eyes of everyone in the establishment. Their raucous laughter was the signal for me to get ready. When I heard the heavy footsteps on the other side of the back door fade to the front, I snuck in on silent feet, sticking to the shadowy corners.

Navigating the small labyrinth stealthily, I avoided the lesser treasures scattered about. I had my sights set on the grand prize, and for that, I’d have to reach the pedestal it sat upon. I resorted to stacking several heavy canvas sacks as carefully as possible to climb up to where it lay upon a precious-looking silver-colored trivet encrusted with sea-blue glass baubles.

“What was it?” I asked impatiently. “And why did the no-name village have a silver trivet?”

Vernie held up her hand. “Silver-colored. Not silver.”

As my nimble fingers slowly lifted the treasure from its resting place, the proprietor caught sight of my crime in progress. Armed with a butcher’s knife, he advanced on me with dreadful intent. Quick as a flash, I leapt from my improvised ladder, darted back through the maze of noisy traps, and slammed the heavy back door shut behind me. I had strategically placed a doorstop within arm’s reach to buy myself a few precious seconds to escape and successfully deployed it.

Sprinting and weaving up a narrow back alley lined with boxes, I paused momentarily to watch Whiskers escape out the front door and melt back into the shadows he found safety in. Although our paths never crossed again, we had accomplished the unimaginable as my first grand heist. I held in my trembling hands Baker Baxter’s famous oversized blueberry pie!

And I ate the whole damn thing!

“A… blueberry pie?” I blinked as I stared up at her from the ground. “You paid someone to help you steal a pie?”

“Whiskers was a cat,” Vernie shrugged. “I couldn’t get the bowtie on him and scoot him in the front door without a treat, now could I?”

“You managed to put a bowtie on a cat?” That was probably the most unbelievable part of the whole thing. Chester would have never ever let me do something like that!

“Yes. The polka dots didn’t exactly go with his tuxedo coat. That’s why everyone was laughing.”

I thought hard about the unspoken details. “Where’d you get the bowtie from?”

“Now that’s a story for another night!” Vernie smirked.

“... How’d it taste?”

“I’ve never had a better blueberry pie,” Vernie admitted before looking at me with a serious face. “Probably because I got so sick from stuffing my face with it back then. Still can’t stand them to this day!”

I’ll admit I have a weird sense of humor. The idea that karma was so instant to her made me laugh uncontrollably, with tears of exhaustion and giddiness running down my cheeks. Even if she had embellished a bit, even if it wasn’t the truth, it was still a great distraction from everything that didn’t make sense. Finally able to relax a little, I found myself nodding contentedly into a late-night slumber.

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Her high heels clicked down the tiled hallway at a slow, staccato pace. She entered my room, pulling the heavy but silent wooden door behind her. She clicked the lock shut as always, though we both knew it could be easily overridden from the outside by the nurses.

“Hello, Mother,” I turned away from the window I had been gazing out. “It’s nice to see you.”

“It’s nice to see you up and moving around, too.” Mother’s eyes shifted behind her glasses to the cityscape scene outside the window. “Dr. Williamson says he plans to discharge you home tomorrow.”

“Yes,” I agreed with a smile. “I’m looking forward to going outside.”

“The only problem is…” Mother took off her glasses and tucked them in her front breast pocket before folding her arms in front of her. “I’m not sure where your home is, exactly.”

“What? No… I live with you, of course. You’re my mother!” The one I’m supposed to trust!

Mother’s gaze turned sooty. “We both know you’ve been hiding things, even from yourself. But you’re going to need to make a decision. I can look into sending you back now that you’re medically stable, or you can continue to live here.”

“No… I’m Rachel. Your daughter! I live with you and–-” A welter of images filled my mind. Home was a small stone room with a grated window built into a towering fort. A crowded dirt lodge filled with other young orphans. A wooden cabin with a warm stone hearth. A cotton futon lying on a woven grass mat. An ornate, golden temple with cathedral ceilings. A noisy farmhouse with an every-busy kitchen. A dark and drafty cave lined with animal pelts.

“You don’t know the truth, do you?” Mother’s voice was tinged with the slightest of concern.

“I can’t… remember right…” None of the flashes of memories, however, showed Mother. Was she not…? “I don’t even know who you are!”

“I’m the one who first found you in that alley,” Mother shrugged. “That’s all.”

“If you don’t know me… then… Why have you been helping me?!”

“I promised him I would follow the Rules while residing here. In this world, you’re still a minor, subject to certain protective rights. I’ve been tasked with your safety and security until you come of age. If you want to go back, that’s ultimately your choice, but with your memory loss, the situation is a bit complicated—”

“I can’t go back!” I clutched my heaving chest as the room spun around me. Her story wasn’t adding up. I needed answers. The truth. “I–”

Then everything faded into a murky gray abyss as I collapsed to the polished, chilly floor.