Serinda

There we were, in the forest once again. There was no road to Darbury, or if there had been, Leandro had clearly ignored it. We had raced out of town and only stopped when we were far from the chaos. Now I sat on a frozen stump in front of a meager fire with a blanket wrapped tight around my body. I didn't feel any warmer.

Staring into those flames, all I could see was that man dying. The burning. The screaming. It was my fault. I had killed him. Dogs die, Serinda. Just as humans do.

I shook my head, hair falling into my face. I hid my face in my hands. A breath I didn't even know I'd been holding misted before me.

I gave a start when a hand clapped onto my shoulder. I whipped around to see Leandro, startled by my reaction for but a moment. Then he sighed and sat down in the snow next to me. He ran a large hand through his windswept curls.

"Allegra was a bit shaken, but she's fast asleep now," said Leandro.

I said nothing. So many things I did and didn't want to say. How could I even say them, make them make sense? I always had something to say. Yet here I was speechless.

"It's a shock, isn't it?" Leandro went on. "Killing for the first time."

"I didn't even think it would kill it-him-them. I just wanted to slow it down or stop it. I didn't even know it would work." I muttered, the words spilling from my mouth like a river.

Leandro watched me. Where I felt like I was unraveling, he was the picture of calm yet pitying. As if he were speaking to a child, perhaps his own sister.

"It doesn't take intention to kill someone. And regardless of whether or not you meant it, killing the man and the monster saved us," he explained as his fingers curled around the hilt of his sword. "I know that doesn't make it easier, but it will help you accept it, forgive yourself."

"Is it really so simple?" I asked. "It helped us so I shouldn't be bothered by it? Just forgive myself, as you say? Right there was a living breathing human being with thoughts, years' worth of memories and connections and I-"

I cut myself off when I realized my voice had started to shake. I couldn't even say it aloud. I killed him.

"You're not used to death, are you?" ventured Leandro, his gaze never leaving my face.

I shook my head. He must have thought me such a weakling. I could hardly blame him. I had probably been a wreck from the beginning between the mourning and the migraines.

"I'm sure many of your memories are filled with death. I'd have thought they'd have gotten you a little used to it," he gave voice to his thoughts.

"It's not the same," I retorted sharply. "Nor was I ever interested in studying them. Corim never made me either."

Leandro's steady stare was on my trembling hands. He stirred the fire, allowing a spark and a burst of heat. He then removed his coat of wool and fur to drape over my shoulders. His warmth lingered within it. Before I could even ask if he was cold, he returned to his place beside me.

"You don't talk about your master that much," he finally mentioned.

"Because it's personal," I answered, feeling something inside me clench at the thought of his stupid smirk and the fact that I would never see it again. Dogs die, Serinda. Just as humans do.

My eyes stung but I took a deep breath to stop the tears. Why did I have to keep remembering those words? I had hated them then and I hated them now.

Leandro frowned and took my hand in his, squeezing it with reassurance. Another method he likely used on his sister. Those warm hazel eyes were sympathetic.

"All of us know loss, Serinda. One way or another. And we don't heal by keeping the hurt to ourselves," he murmured, his voice growing softer.

Indignant, and perhaps ashamed, I turned away from him. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat with no success. My hand was squeezed again. Tighter this time.

"When my father was imprisoned, I felt as if my entire world had been turned upside-down. My mother took to noble-hunting and I had to take care of Allegra. I joined a mercenary group, when I was old enough, for a man named Calogero. I never went to my father. I was ashamed. My father was a thief and the entire city knew it. Not that I was any better, knocking heads and shaking people down for a sack of coins." nigh

"Then you killed a man," I recalled, remembering Allegra's tale.

He sighed again. He didn't seem surprised.

"Allegra told you, didn't she?" he grimaced.

"Just the bare bones of it. Then you found the others."

He nodded and leaned back against the stump. His hand stayed on his sword hilt. How many had he killed with that blade?

"He was a noble. And he wasn't the first. I was told to protect him. So I followed him around as his guard. He was rotten, thought having money gave him the right to have whatever he wanted, be it women or blood. He liked to mock me as well when he was drunk and especially nasty."

Leandro's grip on his sword tightened and hatred flickered in his usually kindly eyes. A sneer was on his lips. I pulled the coat closer, suddenly wishing I hadn't left Martin to sleep in the caravan. His warmth and steady little heartbeat would have been welcome.

"He would call me all sorts of names, mock my father and call my mother a whore. Then one night at the tavern he thought it would be a good idea to accost a lady knight that was passing through.

"I was always taught to respect knights. I heard stories about them, admired them, wanted to be them. Not some mercenary protecting scum like that son of a bitch. But it wasn't as if a boy like me could become a squire. I didn't have the money or the status. Anyway, he propositioned her, drunk, and she told him to piss off. When he started getting angry and tried to grope her, I'd had enough and I hit him over the head with a mug."

His voice grew rougher and angrier as he continued. Disdain dripped from his words as his accent became more apparent. He truly did start to look like a lion when he was angry.

"And that killed him?" I dared to ask.

He shook his head.

"No. It was when he staggered up afterward, cursing at me and demanding I kill that woman and I refused. He attacked me and I put a blade through that bloated belly of his. Those silks weren't so impressive once they were stained with blood. And the funny thing was? I didn't even feel guilty. He was a prick and I'd just saved the whole city from having to put up with him for the rest of his wretched life."

The hold on my hand became so crushing that I cried out and snatched it away from him. He seemed shocked at his own strength.

"Just go on," I told him before he could apologize. I had no desire for an awkward apology amidst the rest of all the turmoil I was feeling.

He hesitated, but when I said no more he continued.

"That knight, Donna Severa, defended me when the city guard came. But she could not protect me from Calogero. Mercs don't exactly follow their code of honor. I knew he'd have his group after me, so I started making plans to leave Pallora. It was easy convincing Allegra. But mother refused to leave. Pallora was all she knew and she was having success with a nobleman. So Allegra and I left. But before we did, I visited our father, alone.

"He was pitiful, all skin and bones and his hair so dirty and greasy it looked like oil. He barely even recognized me. When he did, he grinned and said I looked just like my grandfather, that he never thought I'd get so tall. He was always wiry. Allegra took more after him than I ever did. But I wasn't there to be nostalgic. I told him what had happened and that Allegra and I were leaving. Then he broke down and wept, wailing about lost time and how I'd proved my honor. Then he begged me to take care of Allegra and kissed my hand. It was the first and last time I had seen him since he'd been arrested. He wasn't even bitter at me. And that made me feel even more hollow. And the funny thing is he'd made me feel guiltier than anyone I had ever killed."

His voice dwindled to no more than a whisper as he concluded his tale of woe. Those eyes shone with so many emotions; anger, pain, guilt, loss, pride, and above all, regret. He was still fairly young, hardly a few years older than I. Surely he had been no more than a teenager. How young Allegra must have been. How many friends had they left behind in Pallora? A life was a difficult thing to abandon. Perhaps I had been fortunate to have spent my life travelling with Corim, never settling in one place. We never grew attached or tied to a specific location.

"So your father was your loss," I said in a small voice that most certainly was not my own.

"As your master is yours," he remarked with a grim smile.

I fell silent, curling into myself on the stump. Just thinking of Corim put nettles in my throat and an ache in my heart. How could I even share my hurt when it silenced me? Unless...

I was a Memorium. I could do it.

I could tell him without needing to speak. I cleared my throat, then removed my glove and held my hand out to him. He stared at it, baffled.

"Your hand," I replied.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

I nodded.

Leandro took off his leather glove and tucked it beneath his arm. When his hand ever so gingerly overlapped mine, I could feel the roughness and calluses from years of experience of handling a weapon. It was large, dry, and warm.

I closed my eyes and caught the memory closest in my mind. That which my first kill had made me relive. I grabbed it and willed it to our conjoined hands. It flowed like the blood in my veins to my fingertips, transferring to my companions.

The day was dark and gloomy, bulky gray clouds looming over the sleepy town with the dread of rain. Every man, woman, and child knew it would pour before the day was out. But for now, the sky was silent with neither the slightest rumble of thunder nor whisper of wind.

There was no sound at that moment, save for the crying of a twelve year-old girl.

At the back of the local blacksmith's house stood three men and little girl, me.

I stood there, tears running down my red cheeks as the gray-haired blacksmith stood over his bony old dog, axe in hand. The poor thing, too weak to even lift his head, stared up at his master with somber, knowing eyes. His shaggy red fur was dull and lifeless under the dimly lit sky. He was probably shaking from the cold, yet unnerved with his own death at the end of that blade.

The blacksmith's burly son, who had given me candied nuts when we had first arrived not even a week before, stood with his jaw set but his eyes held a watery shine to them. That dog, Baron, had loved him most. When he could still walk, he would pad into his room to sleep beside him and lick his face to wake the boy up. I knew because Baron remembered.

Corim was behind me, clad in worn black garments as always. How fitting the color was that day. I hadn't a scrap of it in my own meager wardrobe. I stood there, a stick of a girl in a gray woolen frock, held in place by my master's hands upon my shoulders. His grip was firm so that I wouldn't run forward. Not that I could. As much as I wanted to rush out and lock my arms around Baron's neck, I stood frozen in place, too numbed by sorrow to move. My heart felt as if it would burst in my chest.

"Seri, you don't have to watch if-" Corim whispered in a rough voice.

I vigorously shook my head. Had I not already been mute with grief, I would have snapped at him for using that insufferable pet name. My mentor had said the best way to face death was by standing vigil for the deceased. He had mentioned it once years ago, but I had remembered. He had been oddly shocked when I had solemnly reiterated his words the night before. He'd told me it wasn't necessary for someone you had just met, let alone a dog. But I, having been as stubborn as usual, told him angrily that I would do it.

I let loose a sniffle as we watched the blacksmith sharpen the edge of his axe. My hands, clutching my skirts tightly, shook when he lumbered over to the old dog. It was his time, Corim had told me when I cried at the news, he can't even eat. He was only suffering, he had said.

But it still felt cruel. Death by any weapon felt like a criminal's demise. It wasn't an end for a beloved companion. I forced myself to swallow, though it did nothing to end the stream of tears.

And then the blacksmith knelt down to scratch Baron's head one last time. He gave a final weak, loving grin and a limp wag of the tail. The smith got to his feet, eyes wet, and clenched the axe in his sturdy hand.

If it had been possible for time to slow, it had in that moment. He swung the blade, then brought it down in an arc so precise that a headsman would have been envious. And the dog was looking up at him, watching. I forced myself not to look away. Then, with nothing but a whimper of pain, poor Baron was put out of his misery.

When Corim felt my shoulders begin to tremble, he leaned down, putting his mouth to my ear.

"Dogs die, Serinda," he said softly in a somber tone. "Just as humans do."

I couldn't take it anymore. The moment it perished, the whimper sounded over and over again in my head. A creature had died right in front of me.

I simply couldn't take it.

I ran off.

Leandro blinked, astonished as I removed my hand and pulled my glove back on. I was even more exhausted than before, and far less inclined to speak. A headache was already beginning to creep up on me. It was the first transfer I had ever performed on someone who was not a memorium. Corim had always said it was more taxing to give than to take. He had been right. For a moment, my head was swimming.

"That-it felt so real," Leandro marveled. He stared at his hand.

"Because it was real," I rasped.

"And that was the first time you saw something die?" he ventured to guess.

I nodded yet again. I had never realized how much Corim had coddled me before. Always smiling and trying to shield me from the slightest unpleasantness. Yet he could not protect me from everything. That dog had simply been one of the first lessons of life. But it had always been the harshest.

"Dogs die, Serinda. Just as humans do," I repeated. "That was what he said. And when that thing-that man-I...it was all that I could remember."

"I didn't take just one life. I took two. Years of life just gone. I'm a memorium. I'm not supposed to kill anyone. Even if it was an accident. I should never had had to. It shouldn't even be me. It should be him. It should have always been him. He would have known what to do and here I am useless."

I rambled on, finally letting loose the tears I had been holding back. All the shock, shame, and grief flooded down my frozen cheeks and dripped from my chin. I tried to take a deep breath to stem the tide, but it only resulted in a fresh wave of sorrow that blurred my vision.

Suddenly my spectacles were plucked from where they rested on my ears. My face was pulled into fabric that smelled of leather and sandalwood. Any attempt to pull away was impeded by the arm that held me in place. A hand stroked my hair slowly, soothingly.

"You can cry for as long as you need to. No one will judge you," I heard Leandro's voice murmur above me.

I wanted to push him off, to just wipe my eyes and say I was fine. Instead I crumbled, grabbing his shirt. My body wracked with sobs, I clung to him like a desperate child. That was what I was, wasn't I? A lost, stupid, useless child without a single idea of what to do or how to do it. I couldn't fight. I couldn't even handle death. I was being hunted and was all but incapable of fighting back. What good was all my knowledge and memories if I could not even survive on my own? I was hopeless. It should have been Corim, not me. He would have had a plan. He could have fought back. I was just helpless.

And so I sat there, crying out all my fear and frustration until I'd no more tears left to shed. When I was left dry-eyed and gasping for breath, Leandro finally loosened his hold on me. I lifted my head from his chest, sniffling. Without my spectacles, I was unable to make out his face. But even in my blurred vision, I could see him reach into what must have been a pocket and pulled a flash of blue out from it. He then pressed it against my face and began to wipe my tears. It was a handkerchief.

His motions were tender and delicate. He must have done this to Allegra any number of times. He even dried the moisture from my eyelashes. Leandro seemed to look me over, then placed the handkerchief back in his pocket. Then he carefully tucked my hair behind my ears. My spectacles were returned to me afterward.

The world came back into clarity and I realized how close Leandro's face was to mine. I had never been in such proximity to a man before. A slow smile spread across his handsome face.

"Strength comes with time and experience. No matter who we are, we will break and have to pick up our pieces. You're already doing well," he remarked. "And you won't be alone."

My throat was so sore at this point that I could barely speak. Yet I swallowed and presented a wan smile.

"I will try to remember that," I managed to say. "Though I cannot promise perfection."

"I don't think anyone can," Leandro chuckled wryly. His shirt was blotched where I had been crying, yet he did not seem to care in the slightest. He held out his hand to me.

"You should get some rest," he insisted.

He was right. I was exhausted and my head was throbbing. My very bones felt tired. My face was dry, hot, and raw. And despite all that, I had no desire to sleep. Instead I wanted to be alone with my thoughts, to collect myself.

"You can go ahead," I answered. "I'd like to be by myself for awhile longer."

He frowned, bewildered and concerned. His eyes asked if I was certain.

"Just for another hour," I assured him. "I swear I will go to sleep afterward."

Leandro sighed and ran a hand through his golden locks.

"Alright, but make sure you do," he said before reluctantly going back into the caravan.

I was left alone. I readjusted myself on the stump.

Leaning back, my gaze traveled up to the sky. It had steadily lightened from a deep inky black to a soft sapphire blue. The stars were beginning to dim in the growing light, fading out like dying coals. It was still almost impossible to believe he was among them now. That he was looking down on the world from a shining home in Caelum's cloak.

"You never talked all that much about joining the stars, did you, Corim," I mused. "I wonder if you can even hear me up there."

Corim had never been significantly devout. He had paid his respects and performed the rituals to Munin when certain rites of my training called for it, but he never visited the temples of his own accord or prayed to the gods. My master would have taken on the graduation ritual and presented me with my ring when the time had come. Now it never would.

Curled up on the stump and hugging my knees, I just now began to take in the forest around me. The trees, though brittle and appeared as if the snow piled upon their branches would break them, were vast in number, creating a seemingly impenetrable wall that separated us from the world. We should have been safe, yet I could imagine those yellow eyes prowling around in the darkness. All there was, however, were the silhouettes and sounds of the woods' nocturnal inhabitants. Smaller ones ascending trees aided by tiny claws, larger ones shuffling along and breaking the twigs in their path beneath their paws. And a single solitary owl hooting somewhere nearby.

The fire dwindled to nothing but ash and a wisp of smoke as the night wore on. Even as the sun began to peek over the horizon, I did not keep my word to Leandro. I remained glued to my wooden seat, watching the stars fade one by one as the sky gave way to rose-gold dawn. Only a hint of purple lingered among its shifting hues.

My fingers clasped around the ring in my pocket.

I am a memorium, I told myself. I have a duty to my profession and my master to complete this task and I will see it through to the very end.

With my resolve came a strange calm, a clear sense of purpose. The doubt that had dogged me started to dissolve. I would be no lost, floundering child. I would be a fox, a raven, a memorium, a bard, everything I was and would have to be to do my duty. I would survive. I would make Corim Danyr's death worth something, anything.

I rose to my feet feeling stiff and cold. Undoubtedly, I looked a mess, my hair wild and my robe stained and torn.

As I turned to return to the caravan, I spotted the owl, a great-horned, perched upon a branch, tawny eyes blinking in the sunlight. It extended its wings and thrust itself from the tree.

It did not get far, however. Its form was unsteady, dipping and trying to right itself erratically, as if injured. It had barely gone a few feet before it crashed to the ground behind the brush.

I gasped and ran toward the fallen creature. My stomach turned as I heard snapping and cracking, envisioning broken bones and a twisted body. Pushing the brush aside, I was met by the sight of the owl writhing and trembling upon the forest floor.

It was a terror of a thing to watch. The owl's breathing was ragged, its eyes wide and practically bulging from its skull. As the body contorted and bones popped sickeningly, its feathers puffed out and it gave a series of strangled shrieks.

To make matters stranger, it began to grow in size. Feathers withdrew into the body and melted into flesh, human flesh that was sickly pale. Limbs and body extended. Talons receded and dulled into filthy toes. The tips of the wings spread apart into fingers with roughly bitten and chewed nails. Torn and soiled clothing that might as well have been rags clung to a thin but muscular frame.

And the face. Oh gods, that was the most grotesque. The black beak split apart, the top morphing into a nose and the bottom dividing even further, forming a pair of peeling, chapped lips. The face expanded outwards with a forehead and cheekbones. Shaggy, lank hair replaced feathers and fell halfway down its back. A beard just as wild and tangled covered the face. It was a man. A shapeshifter?

The transformation complete, he collapsed onto the ground with a groan. My hand over my mouth, I stepped back in shock.

His hand shot out and grabbed my foot. I let out a yelp and tried to shake him off. His grip was surprisingly strong. Then, in retaliation, I kicked him in the belly as hard as I could. Then again. After a third, he released me and clutched at his abdomen, moaning in pain.

"Leandro!" I called out. "Get out here now!"