Rana sat against a pillar of rotten wood, her hand still holding the untouched bowl of food. She wondered about the events of the night before. The introduction of an experienced new captain to the forest patrols and the dead body of the woman she thought she had saved. The two incidents were seeming without relation, but she had no doubt they were connected.

The new captain meant new development, and one with such skill could only mean that the marked one was picked specifically for an increase in security. This could only mean that whatever schemes that were cooking within the forest, it was nearing a vital stage. She wished she could see more of what was going on, but staying when her hiding place was found was not a good decision. This also meant that time was running out, and she had to get to the bottom of what was going on soon.

Would the woman’s death be related to whatever was going on within the forest?

When Rana was tracking the three ruffians and stopped their attempt at assaulting the woman, she sensed no one present in the vicinity aside from the three assailants and their intended victim. It was an isolated part of the village, one with few intact houses and even fewer cover. It was no place for the helpless to survive in the cold and cruel situation they found themselves in. It was a place where the weak perished to the evildoers and no one would hear their cries for help. Not that anyone would do anything about it. However, the fact remained that the woman chose to be there, and the reason for doing so might lead her to the truth.

She heard light footsteps approach her. The boy she gave her food to was standing in the distance, stealing glances at her while he pretended to play with some sticks. She smiled softly as she got up and walked towards him. She gave him the food and he readily took it from her. When he finished eating, he then darted away. However, this time, he said his thanks before leaving. He was either smartly taking advantage of someone’s kindness, or foolishly believing that kindness was something that could be relied on.

Rana pinched the bridge of her nose. She had to focus. The boy was not her charge. She returned her attention to the task at hand. First and foremost, there were two immediate actions she could take. They were to visit the deceased woman’s dwelling to find clues, and to ask around for information. She was sure that for someone willing to return to and stay at someplace unsafe and isolated, there must be a reason, and that reason might be known to others of the same village. The question was what to do first.

She decided to question those that know the deceased woman first. There was a chance just by going to where the woman lived she could acquire all that she needed to know, but it was better to have some information in the back to direct her search. The issue now was finding the right people to ask. She did not want to raise suspicion by asking many people as the word would travel that someone was snooping around. She also had to ensure that whoever she asked had the information she needed and could keep quiet.

Rana began walking around the village, making sure as to not run into soldiers or being out in the open. In these times, it was more suspicious to be honest rather than sulking in the shadows. The woman was most likely a resident of the village, given that what she refused to leave was most likely her home. There was a chance the woman was an outsider using someplace secluded as a hiding place, but that would be known after one or two questionings. Therefore, the soldiers were not candidates for questioning. They were outsiders and the risk of suspicion was too high.

Rana looked around and tried to find villagers who were willing to talk to her, but not curious enough to spread their interaction with others. Then, she found him. He was an old man, with eyes of apathy rather than that of being without hope. His clothes were also slightly less tattered than the other refugees. He was alone, and his expression was one of rejection. His scowl told others to stay away. It was perfect.

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She walked towards him and sat next to him. The old man did not even acknowledge her and continued to fiddle with his fingers. There was little point in an ambiguous approach. She dropped a couple of pellets in front of him, which slowly earned his attention.

“I want to ask about the woman living alone in the southern district,” Rana said. The old man slowly raised his head to her and his eyes were mistrusting. “I want to know who she is and why she chose to stay there.”

“Who are you? Why are you asking?” the old man questioned back, clearly still suspicious. He must’ve thought this was a trap of some kind. No one in their right mind would offer pellets for such pointless information.

“Does it matter?” Rana replied and then dropped another pellet.

The old man was hesitant, but he eventually snatched the pellets and quickly stuffed them into his pockets. The village was a place to supply aid to refugees, but there were still black markets that sold contraband and other questionable items that helped the people cope with these trying times. It was always profitable when the misery of the people could be exploited.

The old man informed Rana of who the woman was. She was a widower of a soldier, not someone well known. The only reason people know of her was how big of a commotion she made at a local bar during the war when she was informed that her husband died. Rana pressed for more information, but the man was adamant that there was nothing more. The old man feared that Rana would rescind her pellets after not getting the information she wanted. He was wrong. Rana bid him farewell and left a confused looking old man. It was a short interaction and he couldn’t believe it earned him some pellets.

It mattered not what he thought. Rana got what she was looking for. It wouldn’t matter even if news of her snooping around was spread. She would be gone soon. It was correct that the woman was a nobody. She was simply someone carrying emotional baggage and was unwilling to let it go. The woman prioritized sentimentality over her own survival. However, that was enough. There were two pieces of information that mattered. The woman made a commotion and let herself be known. This also meant that she could be tracked. When Rana killed her would-be assailants, she eliminated the possibility of a random act of violence. Now, with the knowledge that woman was an identifiable nobody in the village, there was a real chance that her death was targeted attempt.

The woman was killed, not by anyone in the village, but by someone outside of it. The only place Rana could think of was the forest. It seemed like she had to find a way to enter its deepest parts. However, before doing so, there was one more area she had to visit.

Rana had never been to the woman’s dwelling, but she knew where it was. She remembered the smell of the dead body, and there was only one home that was covered in it. When she entered the place, there was nothing out of the ordinary at first glance. The standard furnishing of an improvised household was not something that could provide any information other than what was already known. They were living in poverty and had sold much of their belongings. However, that was the issue. The woman sold many things, but something was missing and it was unlikely those items were sold as well. The husband’s clothes were nowhere to be found. She could smell their traces, but they were nowhere to be seen.

There was one possible explanation, and that did not involve the woman throwing away parts of her husband. She rushed to the site where the woman’s body remained. She was thankful the soldiers were horrible at performing their duty. She already examined the body, but now with the sunlight, it was easier to confirm the conclusion she drew.

The woman died of a stab wound, an instant death as her heart was pierced with a blade. However, there was something amiss, and she finally understood what was nagging at her mind when she initially examined the scene. The fact that there was no struggle was not unusual if the killer hid before committing to the act. However, the more she examined the area, it became clear that the killer had nowhere to hide. Rather, the killer did not hide. There were no traces of any presence aside from the woman and the occasional footprints of strays.

The woman did not walk to her home that night. She walked directly to her killer and to her death.