Two-and-a-half days ter, they walked into Tohohon. The guards had plenty to ask about their rough appearance, but thankfully Uruoro and Hogog did most of the talking.

  Kaye wasn’t of a mind to study Tohohon with her eyes like how she often enjoyed doing, so she barely paid any attention to the first above-ground Sarak city she visited. Instead, Kaye stuck to Gima, following her gaze everywhere, wondering if she was seeing something of interest or pretending to in order to avert her eyes. Likely it was more of the tter.

  Aien and Uruoro took upon themselves to look for an inn; Kaye and Hogog waited for them by a square they deemed easy to find.

  Her eyes met her uncle’s when Gima was staring the other way. Hogog inclined his head as if asking a question. Unsure of what he meant, she stared until he gestured to Gima. Kaye nodded.

  When they found that inn and took turns on the private bath, Gima insisted on going st. She spent a long, long time in there.

  Kaye had been lying in the bed they would share for the night and probably the next few, staring at the ceiling when Gima opened the door. Looking up, she saw that the bath had returned some liveness to the woman’s face.

  Gima sat on her side of the bed with a sigh, then slumped down on her back, feet still on the ground.

  Together, they stared at the ceiling.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  She felt the hustle as Gima nodded by her side, her head almost touching Kaye’s arm.

  For the st two days, she had tried to make small talk with Gima, only to be met with listless, short answers. She decided to be more direct in her attempts to help.

  “You were both unmasked warriors when you met Loho. How did it happen?”

  Gima took a long time either collecting herself or wondering if she should even answer, but eventually she spoke, “We had been seeing each other for days, marching on the war, then one day while we retreated to watch the Headhunters win the battle over the unmasked corpses, he approached me and asked if I wanted to run away.”

  Kaye started at that. She moved from lying on her back to lying on her side, staring at Gima farther down the bed, seeing her face in profile as she was looking up, her long bck hair still damp from the bath and flowing over the edge of the bed.

  “That does not sound like Loho.”

  There was the ghost of a smile on Gima’s mouth, gone the next instant.

  “I still don’t know what he meant by that. He could be asking me to go away, or he could be baiting for an answer I wasn’t supposed to give. I never asked him.”

  “What did you answer?”

  “What we were meant to answer. That we would drive the Morrish away from our nds…” the way her voice trailed told Kaye that she was remembering something, “… we started fighting together then, but Loho… Loho, you see, he was the bravest of the unmasked. It took me a long time to notice that he wasn’t simply looking to become a Headhunter, but that he was also fighting to protect. First everyone, then the few he could after our own numbers dwindled, then I was the only left from our initial group. We were together since the start, pretty much, sleeping together, but I was the one who asked if he wanted to live with me.”

  At the hint of Gima’s usual speech, Kaye smiled.

  Gima continued, “He refused to answer until the war was over. I was a little mad at the time, but I understand that he was pying it safely. There was no guarantee we would survive it. Even after that, there was never any guarantee, any time he left with his cn, I had to convince myself that he would always make it back, and it wasn’t easy.” Gima sniffed, wiped tears away from her eyes. “I was there at the war because Sarak needed another body, but Loho? He always thrived in it. I’m not blind to that, but I knew the man before I knew the mask. I knew about his family, what happened with them, the people he ended up with after and everything he did to run away, so I understood. Most Headhunters don’t live much and few ever marry, because it’s not worth it. One day, they simply don’t come back, and everyone that knows them is left waiting.”

  I didn’t fear the death of others in my first life. I never had the opportunity of learning what it meant, for I was the one to die, and before that I had little time to worry about anything besides myself.

  Kaye spoke, “It’s not the same, not exactly, but I remember being worried about my father every time he went out hunting with the others. My mother would do her best to keep me entertained, but I was too smart for my own good, so I would ask questions at first, then stop when I understood she tried to keep those thoughts away. When they were a few days te, I would notice how her demeanor would change, even if she tried to hide it, and she would say that uncle was with him, more to herself than to me. When my father gave up hunting because of the limp on his leg, she was so… relieved.”

  Just when Kaye feared she had said something wrong, it was Gima’s turn to let out a ugh.

  “The Acolytes would scowl at me, seeing the priestess who always annoyed them about becoming one receiving comfort from a child.”

  You’re barely older than me.

  Thinking about that made Kaye realize how simirly they had reacted to a loved one’s death. Lashing out in violence at first, then retreating back inside herself, as if keeping things away would make them disappear.

  “It’s my turn to share,” Kaye said, and told her about Gairin and Taya, and Rair, and even Rogar.

  Neither Uruoro nor Aien accepted his offer, leaving Hogog to drink alone at the inn’s first floor after his bath. Instead of the ale and mead he was used to, they served liquors of different fruits and pnts. Almost everything was red or green, and none where of a taste Hogog was used to.

  That didn’t stop him from drinking more, though he was controlling himself. With each mouthful of the beverages, he remembered all the troubles he’d created for his family. Everything felt so recent, in a bad way.

  Ashamed, he lowered his cup. This is the st one. This is not the time either. You can make a fool of yourself once again when everyone is safe.

  He stood up, paid what he owed and made for the floor above. He was about to knock on the door he was sharing with the other men when he noticed someone looking at him.

  Farther down the corridor, the building opened up to a balcony. Gima was there, looking over her shoulders, the silhouette of the city beyond her.

  Hogog approached, gd to realize he wasn’t drunk enough to stumble on his way.

  “Can’t sleep?” he asked.

  Gima shook her head, staring at the city outside.

  The quarter they were in stood higher than most of Tohohon. The streets around the inn were decently lit, a light shining from within several buildings, but not that far away everything was dark and silent. His foggy vision didn’t help, but he could tell that this wasn’t as lively of a city as Neru-Aran, though it was still rger than Kakinse.

  The silence became awkward.

  “Have you ever lost someone?” Gima asked.

  No preamble, huh?

  “My brother and his wife, who was like a caring sister to me. Our parents before then, and some friends.”

  “Kaye told me about Gairin and Taya. She didn’t really stop talking after she started, not until she was too sleepy to continue.” Gima stopped for a moment, squinting her eyes. Hogog followed her gaze, but saw nothing of note. “Has something happened to that girl?”

  Hogog leaned his arms against the rails to keep his loose body from wavering.

  “Did she tell you how they died?”

  “No.”

  “They were murdered right in front of our eyes,” Gima started at that, but he continued talking, “and some part of her still bmes herself. Kaye, you see… she… she never wanted to simply stay in the vilge and lead whatever life came her way. She was going to run away, leave a message expining that she is well, and I’m sure she still thinks about how things could have been different.”

  “You don’t?” Gima’s asked, with an edge to her voice.

  “Of course I do. Every day. And I don’t know how to help her. Or myself.”

  “Is that why you drink?”

  Hogog made to shook his head, then thought about it. Drinking reminded him of when he didn’t have to worry.

  “That’s why I drink.” But no, that wasn’t all. He had only really started seriously getting drunk after…

  “What about people outside of your family?”

  His mind wasn’t foggy enough for Hogog to fail to realize that he was doing most of the talking. If Gima was curious, or if this somehow helped her, then he was fine with it.

  “Not in the way you’re thinking, but I did lose someone…” his voice trailed off. Mildly drunk or not, it still hurt a lot more when it was all his fault. He sighed, eyes on the city. “Long story short, I’d go in these little adventures, letting friends drag me this way and that, meeting new people and inserting myself in their lives if I could. I ended up working in a few different farms because of this, just a couple days at a time, and there was this one time where I met a woman called Tisha.”

  Hogog raised a hand, fingers together as if holding a brush, and in his mind’s eye he was creating the city.

  “I walked off of the barn one day and saw her painting the fields. She had this long, blonde hair that was almost gold, though she had to tie it because of the wind.” Hogog lowered his arm. “Before I realized I was standing there, scking on the job. She had noticed me looking and said that her father—the farm owner—would reduce from my pay if someone saw me there.

  “Grumpy man, he was. Always shouting. He had seemed friendly enough on the previous night, but I guess he barely remembered meeting me. Tisha was his opposite in every way, she was gentleness and smiles. Every day I would stand there for a while, watching her paint, and we would make small talk. I noticed that no one else came that way, except when they were looking for her. It was a nice hiding spot.”

  “What did you talk about?” Gima asked. She was leaning against the rails too, head resting on one hand.

  “She just started expining what she was doing, why she was using this color or that and how it made her feel. One of the first things she said was that looking at white on the canvas made her taste something sweet. She loved the reds around clouds in early morning, because they felt the more complete, like cherries.” Hogog smiled. “I brought her cherries on the third day.”

  Gima ughed a little.

  “I thought you were there for only a few days? Or did you give up the hunting to pursue that love?”

  “I considered it. I was only going to stay for a few days, but I continued there for almost a fortnight. After the cherries, we talked about ourselves. She was very curious about the life of a Nagra hunter, and I lied a lot to impress her. Exaggerated things, mostly. In turn, Tisha told me about her family. She had a lot of brothers and sisters, and they were all being trained to follow the family’s trade. Tisha didn’t want any of it, so she painted.”

  “And her grumpy father was fine with that?”

  Hogog tried to keep his expression empty, and in his drunken state wasn’t sure he managed.

  “He married her to a young man who was himself heir to some nds. She didn’t even know about him, not until they arrived on the farm. I didn’t find her in the back of the barn that day, but she found me ter and told me about it. We slept together for the first and st time that night. I think it was her way of striking back at her father.

  “Then I did something stupid. I decided I was going to confront them. I don’t even remember the man’s name—the man she was sold off to—, I’m not even sure if I heard it. They didn’t take my words seriously and soon we were shouting at each other. It was only when they started calling her a whore that I realized my mistake. The moment I left that pce, Tisha would be the one being punished. I should have just asked if she didn’t want to leave with me. Maybe she wouldn’t have accepted, and if so I should have just left it to be. Tisha would not be happy there, but she was smart and she had her painting, but there I was, young and dumb, and when I understood that I had made things harder for her, I started a fight. A real fight.

  “It was different from all the other times I became violent. That time it…” Hogog paused for a moment, struggling to admit it. “… it felt good, in a way. Reassuring.”

  “You killed them,” Gima said, sounding very matter-of-factly.

  “I would have, if Tisha hadn’t stopped me. When she tried to pull me back, I thought it was someone else joining the fight, and I almost, I… I almost hit her. Got as far as raising my fist. I’ve never seen such a terrified look since then, the… you could see the betrayal on her face.”

  Hogog looked up from the city, towards the stars. “I ran away, and Tisha still had it in her to block the exit so the men who heard the fight didn’t pursue me. She saved me, and I ruined her life. That’s when I started drinking until I fainted, and I never really stopped. I don’t know what happened with her after that, and I’m terrified of ever finding out.”

  Hogog closed his eyes.

  “Do you feel better now?”

  “What?” he turned to Gima, who seemed to be studying him.

  “I’m sorry if I made you say something you didn’t want to.”

  “Don’t be,” Hogog answered, considering her words.

  It was hard to make out how, but he did feel better. Less tired, as if a weight was lifted from his shoulders. He also felt about to cry.

  “I’m not good at helping others. I thought I could come up with something to tell you, to ease your mind.”

  “You did,” Gima answered, though she didn’t expin what.

  She turned to leave, resting a hand on his shoulder for an instant before walking down the corridor, leaving Hogog alone on the balcony.

  Where he continued gazing at the stars.