When Reed woke up Meredith was still sleeping. Her face was swollen, apparently because she had cried more than she had slept. She was lying on his arm, which Reed could barely feel, but he couldn't move. He didn't want to disturb the sleep of a child who needed some rest so much after everything she had been through. Sleep brings peace, and Reed didn't want to take that away. He lay there, looking at the sky where stars were still visible. They would all disappear soon, giving way to the blue indifference of a new day. It was pleasant, being one of the few contemplating the night's farewell.

  Meredith woke up after some time, when Reed was already ready to howl from the pain in his numb body. His muscles demanded movement, and he was grateful to all the gods that his torture was over. The girl raised herself and looked at Reed sleepily.

  "Good morning," he blurted out, getting up. He felt like an old man with a wooden body; he wanted to groan and curse until he ran out of obscenities. The horse was nipping at the bushes a couple of meters away from them.

  Meredith didn't answer, wrapping herself tighter in his cloak, but he didn't expect an answer. He went to the water to wash his face. His face burned after sleep; the scar he had managed to forget about felt unpleasant under his fingers. He wondered if it was one of the reasons Meredith was afraid of him. He knew he looked like a thug. This was a case where the first impression was the most correct one. When the water calmed down, he saw himself in the reflection. It was a picture he avoided. It seemed to him that a completely different person was looking at him from the water: alien, frightening, tired. Dangerous.

  His eyes were alien, as was their gaze; his lips were not his own, distorted and dry; his nose was also alien, and only the scar was familiar. His eternal companion, a good friend, constantly reminding Reed who he was.

  Reed examined himself, trying to recognize anything familiar in the reflection, and the longer he looked, the less familiar features he found. His gaze wandered from his high forehead straight to his thin, almost colorless, sun-bleached eyebrows. Then he met the gaze of the shadowed eyes in the reflection: almond-shaped, with a squint. The gaze was tired, exhausted, and hunted. As if it belonged to a wild beast in the heat of the chase. The blue of the iris was faded, just like himself.

  These eyes did not express bright emotions, did not burn with life, but only searched, wandering, not knowing the essence of what they sought. Beyond them, there was a large nose with a wide bridge, a small hump, and a rounded tip with small nostrils. He had oval, slightly plump lips with barely noticeable outlines. His lips were pale, almost the same color as his face. Barely noticeable cheekbones transitioned into cheeks hollowed by fatigue. His chin was also wide, a gift from his father. His face was framed by unwashed, wheat-colored hair, but despite all the neglect, it still curled slightly.

  It was unpleasant for him to look at himself, but since he had started, he had to look, to seek himself in the unfamiliar features, trying to understand why this face belonged to him and what he had done to it. Why had he forced himself to believe that the face in the reflection was alien to him? He saw reflections of fear in his own eyes, which had now settled in him forever, but even fear was unable to dispel the dead calm of indifference in his gaze.

  He didn't hear Meredith approach. She sat down next to him, scooped water into her hands, and washed her face. Ripples spread across the water, and Reed seemed to snap out of his daze. The face in the reflection blurred, vanished. Even stopped causing pain.

  "Are you ready to move?" Reed asked, not taking his eyes off the water.

  "And breakfast?"

  "I'll find something on the way."

  "Okay."

  Reed stood up and, without looking at Meredith, headed for the horse. When they set off, the sun had almost risen. Meredith, as before, sat in front and slept, burying her face in Reed's chest.

  ***

  The outskirts greeted them with noise, dust, heat, and the stench of spoiling meat. Merchants called out to buyers, women shouted, gawkers and petty thieves crowded around. Kreyghars are the same everywhere. Every city greeted them identically, and Reed wasn't even surprised. Meredith woke up as soon as they entered busy streets, looking fearfully at Reed, who had already concealed his face beneath the palaka.

  "It's alright. We're just passing through."

  He didn't dismount the horse, just slowed his pace, navigating through the noisy crowd. Such an abundance of people frightened Meredith. She convulsively squeezed Reed's hand, looking around nervously.

  "Have you never been to the city?" Reed asked, leaning slightly.

  She shook her head, pressing her back into him. Reed cursed under his breath. He didn't like cities himself, but he was used to them. Discomfort had become something like the noise that is always there, but over time you stop hearing it.

  Turning left toward the craft street, Reed looked around. He needed a smith or an armorer. He deeply regretted losing his daggers.

  "Why are we here?"

  "I need a weapon," Reed answered curtly.

  "You have one."

  "A sword is too noticeable, big, and inconvenient. Hard to hide under clothes."

  "And why do you need to hide it?"

  "The less attention you attract, the better. And weapons always attract attention, so it's best to hide them to avoid trouble."

  Meredith barely understood what Reed meant, but he wasn't going to explain the specifics of a nomadic cutthroat's life. He stopped the horse at the smith's shop and dismounted. A kid about fifteen stood behind the counter, giving Reed a suspicious look.

  "Do you have daggers?"

  "Well, maybe," the kid grunted.

  "How much?"

  "Not for sale to you."

  "Funny how punks can pick and choose with money, as if they have more of it than the King of Forfield."

  "Show your face, then we'll talk."

  "And what’s it to you?"

  "What if you're a bandit?"

  "If I'm a bandit, you’d better think twice when talking, before I cut off your ears."

  "You..."

  "Lars!" shouted another voice from behind the counter. "I put you there not to wag your tongue! Get back to the forge!"

  Reed chuckled, watching the blacksmith's authority knock the insolence right out of the boy in an instant.

  "What do you need?" the blacksmith asked, following Lars with a stern look.

  "Daggers," Reed replied, examining the counter. "Made of durable steel, but not too heavy."

  "Got money?"

  Reed nodded. The blacksmith coughed, spat, and then pulled out weapons wrapped in cloth. Spreading the contents on the table, he stared expectantly at Reed.

  "This one," he poked the first one, "is made of Belden blue steel. Light, flexible, but not for serious business. Just to make someone piss their pants, and that's all."

  "And this one?" Reed pointed to the other daggers with curved handles and carving. The steel reflected reddish glares, catching the sun.

  "From Brazanas. Durable, but heavy. They say giants make such weapons that even a small cut is enough to drain all the blood."

  "Bullshit," Reed snorted.

  "Maybe so. Choose quickly."

  "Give me these, the ones from Brazanas," he said, testing the dagger's weight in his palm. They were heavier than his previous ones, but not too much. It would be easier to inflict damage with these, and they looked more imposing. He already imagined cutting Ermod's throat with this blade if his suspicions turned out to be true.

  "Did you believe the fairy tales?"

  "Yeah, and in the grace of the Three," Reed laughed.

  The blacksmith named the price, and then, glancing at Reed, added: "If you give me the sword," he nodded at the scabbard attached to the saddle, "I'll knock off a third of the price."

  Reed silently handed him the sword. Reed didn't like swords anyway and wielded them poorly. Moreover, that specific sword could betray him, as he had taken it from one of the Wasps he had killed.

  "And for the girl, I'll give the daggers for free, and something on top. I could use the extra hands."

  Reed felt Meredith's fear-filled gaze on his back. He turned around, looked at her, and shook his head. Her face relaxed, but panic still swirled in her eyes. He took out the remnants of his former luxury and paid half the price for the daggers.

  "That's all."

  "I'll give more."

  "Slavery is forbidden in Bradenmain," Reed cut him off as he returned to the horse. "I don't trade children. Not my own."

  "You don't look like a father."

  "When I'm interested in what I look like, I'll ask you," Reed snarled, mounting the horse.

  Deliberately, so the blacksmith would notice, he pushed back the palaka, exposing his elven ears. His lips stretched into a brazen smile.

  "Scum!" the blacksmith spat.

  He was still shouting something, pointing a finger at Reed, but the crowd buzzed louder. His words were lost amidst the cries and laughter of the people flooding the streets. Reed, meanwhile, disappeared completely from view.

  ***

  They stopped at an inn when darkness had already fallen. The money was barely enough for a room and a meager dinner. Meredith’s face was drawn with exhaustion. She refused to dismount the horse and walk. When he finally announced a stop, she sighed with relief.

  Sitting in the furthest corner of the inn's common room Reed picked at his food, pondering where to get money. Meredith ate, but also without interest. After some time, she looked at him, examining his hood, face, and clothes, and then asked, "You wouldn't sell me, would you?"

  "I told you, slavery and human trafficking is forbidden in Bradenmain," Reed forced out. Of course, he wouldn't sell her. He remembered too well the time when he was sold. And what became of him? He became a nobody, an eternal wanderer without a home or purpose. He hated kreyghars enough to avoid any circumstance that would make him alike to those who long ago sold his entire people into slavery.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  "But you're not my father."

  "So what? Does that give me the right to sell you?"

  "I don't know."

  "I suspected what you thought of me, of course, but to take me for a slave trader... That's even offensive."

  "Sorry."

  "I saved you, didn't I?"

  "Yes, sorry," she exhaled, propping her chin on her fist.

  They fell silent. Reed looked off to the side, reflecting on his words, his past, and his present. He didn't think about the future. He believed it didn't exist. Not really. The only real future was the one he chose himself.

  The recent events had awakened memories of those times when he was weak, when fear and pain were his only companions. He recalled what it was like to be living merchandise, without will or voice. He thought he had erased that memory, but it was always with him. Some things are not forgotten, even if you force yourself not to think about them. Not thinking doesn't mean not remembering. It doesn't mean they no longer haunt you, no longer affect who you are and who you will be. Reed would always be that child who was sold.

  "May I ask a question?" Her voice pulled Reed from his contemplation. He flinched, looked at her, and nodded.

  "What is your name?"

  "I..." Reed paused. For the first time in many years, he remembered his name. Not a nickname, but the name his mother had given him long before he found freedom. He hadn't uttered his name for so long that it seemed as alien to him as his own reflection, which he had avoided for too long to consider his own. Reed was trying to accept it, but perhaps accepting one's personality should start with the name.

  "My name is Hector," Reed forced out barely audibly. The name sounded strange. It was too long, too unfamiliar even to himself. But it was it, his name. "I am Hector, but it would be better if you call me Reed when strangers are around."

  "You have two names?" Meredith stared at him with interest.

  "You could say that," Reed smiled, leaning back in the chair. "One is real, and the second is for everyone else."

  "Then why did you tell me both?"

  In response, Reed shrugged. "Someone has to know the real one. Yet I'm not joking. Call me Reed if anyone else is nearby."

  "Okay," she nodded.

  Meredith soon began to yawn, and he led her to the room. She fell asleep quickly, wrapped up in his cloak, just as she had in the forest. Reed sat next to her on a chair for a while, and then stood up, took his daggers, and left, leaving the room key on the table. He would have written her a note, saying where he was going and for how long, but Reed wasn't sure there was a need for it. Any message of that kind could be dangerous. Moreover, he wasn't sure Meredith could read. Therefore, he simply left.

  The night greeted him like an old friend. Reed inhaled the cool night air and smiled. Only his smile was devoid of joy, or any positive tones whatsoever. The hunt awaited him. Another night where the same familiar rules would play out. Either he kills, or they kill him. Reed had grown used to these games, and now he voluntarily started them again.

  ***

  He returned a day later. Reed was tired, exhausted, but intact. There was always work for the likes of him, and he always knew how to find it. Weakness after the injury made itself known though. His back ached, his head throbbed, and his strength hadn't fully returned, but Reed knew he had no time for rest. Survival offers no opportunities, yields nothing, and doesn't play games. And he had accepted these rules long ago. Now he barely moved his legs. His hands were covered in blood, as were his daggers. Crimson drops were scattered across his face like stars. He had done his job, got the money.

  This time everything was simple: beat out a debt, and if necessary, kill. It turned out he had to kill, returned the money, and earned his share. That was it, case closed. The money brought him no joy, but it was hard to live without it, and he didn't want to steal.

  Reed thought Meredith would already be asleep by the time he returned, but she wasn't sleeping. She sat on the old bed, wrapped in the cloak, drilling the door with her gaze. When he entered, fear flickered on her face. Then it changed to surprise shifting to relief. Reed nodded to her in greeting.

  "I thought you wouldn't come," she said, rising.

  "Why not?"

  Meredith shrugged, examining her fingers.

  "Traveling with empty pockets isn’t nice. I need to work." Reed said.

  "Doing what?" Her eyes lingered for a moment on his hands, where the blood had dried, then on his face.

  "Is it so important for you to know?" Reed snapped. "You won't understand anyway."

  She didn't answer, and Reed exhaled heavily. He didn't know why her question angered him, but he didn't want to apologize. Although he should have. Meredith was a child, and he treated her as if she were already an adult. The charm of children is that they don't judge. To her, Reed was nearly a hero, and it was unlikely she would have truly understood the nature of his occupation or his motives. Yet she wouldn't have turned away either, because she secretly worshipped him for giving her freedom. But Reed didn't know this, because he didn't know children at all.

  "Sorry," Reed finally squeezed out, turning away. The belt with the daggers hit the table with a crash. His hands were shaking. He wanted to wipe off the blood, but there was no water in the room.

  "Okay," she answered dryly, not moving, but her eyes followed his every movement relentlessly.

  "Okay," Reed repeated mindlessly, running his palm over his face.

  "Will you teach me to fight with them?" she asked suddenly, nodding at the daggers.

  "What for?" Reed was genuinely surprised, raising one eyebrow.

  "So that no one takes you away, like my mom. If I knew how, we would be together."

  "I am not your mom, Dita," Reed chuckled. "I don't need protection."

  "Everyone needs protection."

  "I can protect myself. And you too. You're a girl, you don't need this."

  "But what if?.."

  "Then I'll do it."

  "Really?"

  Reed thought for a moment. How many times had he already made promises he didn't keep? And would he keep this one? Would he protect a child he had no ties with? Was he ready to risk his life for something other than money? Reed didn't know the answers to these questions.

  "Yes, really." These two words were a heavy burden, but as always, Reed couldn't tell the truth. On the other hand, looking at her face and thinking that he would have left her to die was just as hard as telling the truth. Reed didn't wish her death, but he didn't know how far this could go. He didn't know what he was ready to do to protect her life.

  Meredith nodded and spoke no more. Reed took off his armor and examined his chest and sides. A couple of bruises had spread in surprisingly purple spots on his body, but that wasn't scary, not the first time. He hadn't been wounded, and that was good. At least he had money. He crumpled his shirt, threw it on the floor, and then lay down, closing his eyes.

  "Hector?"

  Reed flinched at the sound of that name. It was unfamiliar, strange, wrong. Even more unfamiliar was the realization that he was the one being called.

  "H-m-m?" he mumbled, not opening his eyes.

  "Will you sleep on the floor?"

  "Yes."

  "But what if it gets cold?"

  "This isn't the forest, it won't be cold."

  "But what if I get cold?"

  "Listen, what do you want?" Reed grumbled discontentedly, propping himself up on his elbows. "I'm tired."

  "I..." Meredith stumbled and tears flashed in her eyes. Apparently, she wasn't used to being spoken to as if she were an adult. But Reed wasn't her mom to fawn over her. That wasn't part of the deal.

  "Well, what?" Reed urged her on, yawning.

  "Nothing," she answered, turning away.

  Reed sighed heavily. Damn kids. If she were a couple of years older, it would be easier. While he was seething, a thought occurred to him. She was scared. Her mother was dead, and even if she hadn't seen her death, she could guess. She had seen the massacre, the bodies, blood, and suffering. She had heard her friends and parents having their hands chopped off and had miraculously kept her own. And afterward, she had survived violence terrifying for her age. Meredith would have relived it again and again until she was handed over to the Church.

  But Reed had taken her away. Not to say he was a model of care and knightly dignity, and certainly not of manners, but he was the guarantor of her safety. And they both knew it. Yes, perhaps she didn't trust him completely, but she trusted him more than anyone else. For her, the world was a hostile place where there was no quiet harbor, her mom. She had been torn from her habitual peace, and only Reed separated her from the cruelty of the surrounding world. She was smart enough for her age to realize she was in danger without Reed.

  Cursing once again, Reed stood up and pulled on his shirt. He walked over to Meredith and grunted discontentedly, "Move over, then."

  Without turning around, she moved. He lay down next to her, turning his back to her. Reed had almost fallen asleep when he felt a thin, frail arm wrap around his waist. She really was scared. It was surprising how she could sleep at all after everything she had seen. Suddenly, he thought that perhaps Meredith hadn't slept at all while he was gone. He clasped her cold palm with his own, listening to her breathing against his back, and then fell asleep himself.

  ***

  In the morning, they set off again. Meredith was more refreshed than before, shied away from Reed less, and sometimes even talked to him. They hadn't traveled that far. Still, traveling in a smaller group was faster and more convenient. And yet, Reed feared the Wasps had overtaken him. On the other hand, the Wasps were leading hostages, and it was unknown how much longer they had stayed in that village. Reed didn’t know whether they had sent a pursuit after Reed, or how their journey was progressing now. Reed couldn't say for sure that the return trip with hostages would be as fast as the trip to the west. Therefore, the chances were about equal, or he just wanted to believe that.

  When they rode into any village along the way, Meredith went silent, refused to get off the horse, or speak to anyone. Not that Reed needed her to speak, but she didn't answer even if addressed directly. Reed still hid his ears, and some willingly believed that Meredith was his daughter. She was afraid to let go of him and rejoiced when she saw him coming back. So, this could quite well fool gullible tradeswomen, driving trouble away from Reed and his silent companion.

  They spent nights in random inns. Once they even had to sleep in the forest again. Meredith didn't object, just accepted the circumstances. She didn't dare argue or complain. Therefore, Reed had trouble understanding her attitude toward their journey. Nevertheless, she slept very poorly if Reed wasn't nearby. This confirmed the guess, she was scared. Well, Reed himself was scared sometimes.

  They had almost reached Argain. It was a matter of a couple of days, and Reed was glad. In a big city, he could earn more than in villages and small settlements. The closer to the capital, the more work he could take for higher price. He was sure that Meredith, being a mage's daughter, hadn't been to big cities. That's why they scared her. Her whole life likely consisted of hiding as far away from everyone as possible, attracting as little attention as possible, and being as vigilant as possible. And she did show vigilance, just as Reed had asked. She never called him by name, never asked him where he went or what he did, and generally got by with stock phrases when strangers were nearby. Only when they were alone could she afford to speak his name and ask something important.

  Meredith was afraid, and it showed. Reed began to get angry at her less and less because he began to understand more. Also, he liked that she didn't care about his ears. She hardly knew the difference between kreyghars and elves. It even surprised her why people sometimes disliked Reed so much. He only smiled in response to this question, and she never pressed.

  In the morning, they rode into Marren, a city neighboring the capital. It was unlike Argain. Marren was quieter, but just as rich and fat. There was plenty to profit from here, and if Reed were a pickpocket, he would certainly have taken advantage of it.

  Reed stopped on the outskirts, at an old pub. They were lucky the rooms weren't occupied by prostitutes or drunks, because with dawn they all crawl away like spiders in the light. Fatigue weighed on his shoulders. Reed didn't like riding horses much. His back always hurt, and his legs ached.

  "Where are we going?" Meredith asked, picking at her porridge.

  "To the capital," Reed answered without turning around. While Meredith ate, he cleaned his blades with particular diligence, as if he knew in advance that he would need them.

  "Why do you need to go to the capital? Mom said it's better to stay away from crowded places; you never know what might come into their heads."

  "Your mom was right."

  "And aren't you scared?"

  "I'm not twelve years old, Dita," Reed answered with a smile, turning around. She shoved a spoon into her mouth and smiled back.

  "So why do we need to go there?"

  "You don't need to, but I have some... business there."

  "Will you leave me here?" A note of anxiety appeared in her voice.

  "And what do you want yourself? You don't have to stay with me. If you have relatives, I'll take you to them."

  "And what if I want to stay?"

  "Then I'll say that's not the best idea of all the ones that have visited your clever head."

  "Why is that?"

  "Because it's dangerous and I have to work."

  "I'll help," Meredith declared eagerly.

  "This work isn't for you, kid," he smiled again, turning away. "You can't stay with me forever. Such a life isn't for you. So, are there relatives?"

  Meredith shook her head, and then muttered, "No."

  "That's bad," Reed sighed. "Okay, you ride with me to the capital, I finish my business there, and you wait for me. Then we leave Argain, and you'll be with me until I find you a job."

  "A job?" Surprise mixed with disdain slipped through her voice.

  "And what’s with the tone?" Reed asked sternly. "Everyone needs work. Even I work. I'll try to find you a place somewhere as a servant. You'll live in some rich man's house, do laundry, cook. Well, you got it."

  "And what if they don't take me?"

  "I'll pay them to take you."

  "And what if they ask for more money than you have?"

  "And who said I'd pay with money?" Reed chuckled, examining the gleaming blade of the dagger. "Anyway, don’t bother yourself with that."

  "But will you leave? Will I see you later?"

  "Quite likely," Reed nodded. "I'll find you."

  "I don't want to," Meredith pouted.

  "And why is that?"

  "I don't want to stay with strangers."

  "You have no others left."

  "But you, Hector, aren't a stranger."

  "I am a stranger; you just haven't understood it yet."

  Meredith, apparently, didn't understand his words either. She didn't understand how Reed could be a stranger to her and why she couldn't stay with him, and this no longer irritated Reed. He accepted that she wasn't capable of understanding everything. After all, she was just a child who shouldn't be scouring the continent arm-in-arm with a headhunter.

  "Are you tired of me?" Meredith asked.

  Reed was taken aback by such a question. He slowly turned to her and raised an eyebrow.

  "What kind of question is that?"

  "Just a question," she shrugged. "You don't want me to stay."

  "It's not about what I want, Dita."

  "Then what?"

  "It's that adults don't always do what they want. You wouldn't understand."

  "Because I'm little, right?"

  "No," Reed blurted out. "Because you don't know what life is like without mom's protection. You don't know how people survive at all, and how cruel they can be."

  "I know."

  "Sorry," he was taken aback, realizing he might have unintentionally hurt her. "Forgive me, Dita. But it really is so. Not everything can be solved just because you wish so. Sometimes you have to do something despite everything, even if you don't like it."

  Meredith fell silent, examining the wooden table. Reed turned away.

  "Hector?"

  "What?" He looked at her again.

  "But if you could do what you want, could I stay?"

  "Yes," this time he lied, believing it wasn't necessary to always tell the truth. Especially if that truth would upset a child and complicate the road.

  "Okay," she answered, standing up.

  "Okay," Reed responded sluggishly, returning to his daggers.