Luke

I hadn't envisioned countryside the way I saw it now. My last experience with vast tracks of cropland had been in using them as a battleground, trapped between two walls of solid stone, fighting every day for my life between them. It almost felt…wrong to see them this way, stalks of corn, wheat, and other crops simply blowing to the east with the wind. They were almost ready to be harvested by the looks of it. Assuming there's anybody left to harvest.

"Think the village was wiped out?" I asked to nobody in particular as we made our way through the dividend separating the acres of field, voicing the obvious question that was on all of our minds.

A small silence passed between us, all of us knowing it was a very real possibility, but none of us wanting to be the one to bring down the mood. Lower than it already was, that is. "Soldiers do things during war." Ka'lira spoke up. Earth Kingdom sure did when I was travelling with them."

Additional knowing looks were exchanged between Gordez, Zek, and I, none of us naïve when it came to the "things" that happened, the crimes committed, all of it. None of us were excluded from these crimes, me least of all. I killed those who were fleeing, injured, surrendering. I slaughtered the innocent, the helpless, those I'd sworn to protect. I shook the thoughts aside. Can't dwell on it. Can't let myself dwell on it anymore. It's the past. I'm not that person anymore.

The conversation didn't continue past that point. It was probably for the best that it didn't.

We continued walking along the fields, headed east. It was quiet. I would add "too quiet" but that implies I'd be expecting a threat. The silence that encountered us rather, was deathly, hollow, as though we were treading along a graveyard, dead bodies all that fertilized the cropland around us. The only noise to interrupt the silence was the cawing of birds as they flew overhead. West. The more we walked, the more steps we took, the more my question began to seem idiotic. None of us were expecting the best. A town goes quiet out of nowhere, empty fields not being attended to, birds flying away from where they would normally expect to find food rather than towards, and last, the plumes of black smoke that finally revealed themselves beyond the day's foggy haze. Heigou.

I don't think any of us were surprised. Whether we were soldiers or not, we'd all been touched by war here. Hell, Ka'lira had probably experienced firsthand the brutality more than any of us, but none of us were strangers to it. I couldn't help but let my mind return to Stone's Edge, the burning bodies, the aftermath, the senseless murder, rape-

My thoughts, thank the Spirits, were interrupted by Gordez clearing his throat and speaking up, saying, "Let's-let's get down there. See if we can do anything to help." His words were shaking as they came out. I couldn't fault him for that. Odds were these were our guys responsible-Fire Nation. When it was the enemy that did it, you were pissed, your nationalism and patriotism intensified, almost glad it happened to further reinforce your thought that you were the good guys, fighting against the unquestionable evil. Then things start to not go your way anymore. Victories become defeats, supplies stop coming in as frequently, morale falls, and sooner rather than later, it's those on your side who start doing the same thing. Then it's just the hollow realization that you're no different from your enemy. At that point, you go two ways: you either decide that it's the norm and follow along, or you live with the guilt and despair. I'd done both.

The approach to the village was a quiet and somber one, naturally, but behind it all, I felt as though there was some residual anger and frustration. We all could acknowledge the impracticality of it. There were some minor strategic reasons to be sure, namely cutting off trade to the Revanchists, but I had my doubts that whoever was responsible for this massacre was even aware of that. If such had been the case, they wouldn't have just burned down the village. They'd have taken hostages, interrogated the inhabitants, learned the location of the Revanchists, tried to track them down. This wasn't a military maneuver. This was just brutality, trying to lower the morale of the enemy. And damn it. It was working.

There was no way of knowing how recently the village had been burned to the ground. Smoke was still flying into the air, fires still burning in some of the worst-hit parts of the village. Embers still cling to charred wood, begging for something more to satiate their appetite. It didn't take much power from me anymore to silently quell the burning embers, letting them sleep once and for all, ending their unsatiable hunger for more. That was fire. Jeong Jeong's words never stopped going through my head since the day he'd told me those words, how fire was alive, how fire was hungry. At first, I'd been excited. I considered myself powerful for my ability to control it, believing as though I were the tamer of some great beast, like in the circus shows that'd come to Citadel from time to time. I intensely believed that this power was in my hands rather than the other way around. Then I saw what my fire was capable of at Ba Sing Se. Not just the fire that I chose to unleash, but the fire that burned inside of me. I became afraid of both at around the same time, terrified of when both would leave my realm of control. I was still afraid. While a part of me detested the Separatists for how they kept me down, held me back from using my abilities to protect myself, I couldn't help but think that a part of me was happy for the excuse to not unleash myself, happy that I didn't need to worry about going out of control.

At times like this however, as simply looking at the fires burning could allow me to put them out, I couldn't help but believe that things could be different now, that maybe I had found a sense of purpose, of inner peace with my inner fire that would allow me to better control the fire outside of me. That's just what you thought last time and looked what happened. Then the other part of me worried that was simply cockiness, the same cockiness that had made me a killer, a murderer, a psychopath. Never again.

I was reminded of oh so many towns left in the wake of invading armies. Burned out buildings, bodies scattered across the ground, upturned cabbage carts, scurrying footsteps in the mud, almost as though I could see the scene playing out in front of me-the Komodo rhinos entering the town, splitting up, no doubt firebenders among the cavalry, separating to cover separate sections of the town, burning it starting at the outskirts, forcing the villagers closer to the center where the marauders themselves joined, finishing off those they'd rounded up. And during all of that, the last minutes of the frightened as they clung to whatever life they could: the charred skeleton of a parent holding a child in their arms, backed up against the corner of a small scorched home, the half-incinerated corpse of a man who had been in the middle of opening up the cellar door behind his house, the caved-in skull of a small child with a blank look on his eyes, as though he had no idea what was occurring around him. See if we can do anything to help. Gordez's hollow words echoed in my mind. What CAN we do? A dead woman was nailed to the side of a house by multiple arrows lining her body, slumped over, held up only by the arrowheads pinning her up, a dog with a grizzly scorch mark along its hide, flies feasting on its innards, lay atop its deceased master, sticking by its owner until the very end.

I only realized after a small while that my hand was shaking. No, wait. My entire body was shaking. I hadn't noticed until I just felt Zek place a soft hand on my shoulder from behind me, enough to make me jump, scared out of my mind until realizing it was only him. The look on his face said enough when I turned to face him. He understood. Nobody among us wasn't horrified by what we saw, a woman's body severed at the waist, her torso yards away from her lower body, a disturbing trail of blood connecting the two via the asphalt on the ground. Why? Who would do this?

You would. You did.

I was still shaking. I had the feeling the shaking wasn't going to let go of me any time soon.

We were approaching the center of the town now where no better a sight awaited. The center of the town was marked by a postal tower where incoming ravens, hawks, and other messenger birds would arrive and depart from. No birds nested within. In their place, bodies hung, lynched from their necks, limp, all of them dead.

There was a silence between us all as we could do nothing but watch.

"We should cut them down," Ka'lira said, speaking up first among us.

"Y-yeah," Zek said shortly after, unsheathing his blade at his side, stalking slowly closer to the tower.

The smell was starting to get to me. I could smell it better than I'd smelled anything else in the world. The burning, rotting flesh. I'd smelled it before. Back in Ba Sing Se, the people I myself had burned alive. I remember thinking it smelled good at the time. I wanted to puke, not sure if it was the smell, or the memory of actually enjoying this once upon a time. I had to lean upon a signpost for support, positive that I was about to puke out breakfast, lunch, and anything else I'd eaten in the last week all at once now. I bent over to gag, feeling a strange drop on my head. Is it raining? I looked up, only met by the sight of, atop the signpost, a head mounted. "Fuck!" I yelled to myself, falling backwards in the mud from the surprise, reaching up to my hair to try and wipe the blood off out of hysteria as though that would work, stopping myself short as I simply lay ass first on the trail, my breaths labored, waiting for my heart to slow, and my breathing as well.

I turned towards the others. They were not fairing much better. Zek had barely cut down one body and already, he was sitting on the ground against the postal tower, Ka'lira close at his side, a hand on his shoulder. Zek was wiping at his mouth, cleaning the bile away. It seemed I wasn't the only nauseous one here. Gordez wasn't far off and was looking towards me rather. Our eyes met for a small enough moment for him to ask, "You alright?"

"Yeah," I coughed. "Yeah, I think so." I was very far from alright.

He nodded. "Come on. Let's get going. No reason for us to-"

"If you're here to loot." A new voice. We all turned to face it, coming from the east of the town, the direction opposite of the way we'd come in. "Then you're too late. Everything is already gone." It was an older woman speaking. I'd place her at around her 60s, her face wrinkled, as with most of her body, at least what was visible in spite of her robes, and I assumed her hair grayed if not whitened beneath her head covering. It all began to click to me. The robes, the head covering, I knew I recognized them. She was a nun. Like the ones I'd seen at Citadel who were giving food and medicine to the kids. What the hell are they doing out here? This is a warzone.

"We're not looters, ma'am. We're just trying to help."

"Then I'm afraid you're too late."

"We should let them help." Somebody new now. Somebody younger who'd just appeared from behind the nun. 20s maybe? She had dark hair, but once again, the robes concealed most. Was she behind her the whole time? "There's still some injured needing help, and there might be more alive in the town. The more people to look, the better."

"We don't know if we can trust them! They might be just like the people who destroyed this town, come here now to kill those trying to help. Get Gehor. Have him run off our visitors."

"Y-yes, mother." Despite the hesitation in her words, the young girl followed her orders and ran off. Who's Gehor?

"We should go," I heard Zek say.

"They say there's still injured, and people trapped," Ka'lira protested. "We can't just leave."

"We're not wanted here."

"We're not wanted anywhere."

Zek had no argument for that, the space in which he would have made a retort if he had one occupied by Gordez speaking up, appealing to the nun again, "Ma'am, we assure you, we mean no ill will. We came here because we hadn't heard from this town and wanted to make sure that everything was alright."

"Well as you can see, it clearly isn't. You have your answer now. You can go."

"With all due respect, we can't just leave. If there's people here who still need our help, we're going to stay and help. We'll stay out of your way if you want us to, but you can't stop us from lending a hand to anyone still alive here."

A larger man turned the corner from an alleyway onto the street behind the head nun, this man, presumably Gehor, well-built, adorned in heavy leather armor, sun-tanned skin poking out from behind, a square face topped with dark black hair, a dadao slung around his back. "Mother," he said, acknowledging the nun, a deep voice perfectly accompanying his stature. "Miyang said we had unexpected company?"

"Hmm. That, we do."

"Shall I remove them, mother?"

Her eyes seemed to scan over us, beginning, obviously with Gordez, then shifting over to Zek and Ka'lira, and, lastly, me, myself feeling as though her eyes rested longer on me, perhaps due to my age, myself having been the only one not to speak, some other reason, or perhaps I was merely paranoid and self-centered. It was hard to say for certain.

"Hmm. No. Not yet. They may just prove helpful." She turned back to us. "You say you want to help? Then follow me."

She turned, stalking down the street from which she'd came, leaving Gehor in her wake who stood still as we followed, eyeing us as we passed by, acting as a sentry of sorts, his eyes scanning us from head to toe as though he were checking off items on a list inside his head, ensuring that none of us would pose a threat to this "mother" of theirs.

The group I saw now, at least demonstrated by the three individuals I saw, did not remind me of the same nuns I'd seen in Citadel. It was obvious enough to me that they belonged to the same group, but the manner in which they operated could not have been any different. They lacked the same detachment that they had demonstrated in Citadel. While they'd always been sympathetic, kind, and helpful to those that needed it, they'd always done so with a degree of spiritual detachment as though the pain and sufferings of the world were no part of them, as though they had surpassed earthly misery and suffering. Perhaps it was necessary as a means of reassuring those who were being tended to, but now, it seemed as though they had completely and utterly abandoned that guise, this selfsame misery and suffering very clearly leaving its marks on those I had encountered thus far.

And as we followed, this same sense of newfound attachment to the world's trials would not be shown exclusive as to the three we'd encountered so far, but rather, quite the opposite. We followed this "mother" into the same alleyway that Miyang had retreated into in search of Gehor. The alleyway led deeper into the town, unveiling another square of sorts, connected by 3 other alleyways, all joining to this hidden alcove, small two-story apartment buildings surrounding it, a small well in the center, an area I was sure that, during this town's glory days, had been a nice community center away from the town's center of activity, a haunting ground for those who lived in this general area to establish their own subculture within this later village.

These glory days, however, were gone to the past now, as rather than resembling a community center, this alleyway square now reminded me more of an understaffed military hospital. Across the ground, bodies were scattered, just barely being organized as a number of able bodies wandered around, trying to find where they were needed, which was everywhere, rather trying to find where they were needed most, desperate heads darting back and forth amongst the injured. Those who seemed to at least be able to survive on their own without constant attention being given to them were huddled around a small trash fire burning near one corner of the plaza, the corner diagonal from it, at least by the looks of it, serving as the epicenter of medical care, if "care" was the right word, being granted.

This "mother" was standing still as we caught up, her head tilting back to eye us, as though wondering if we were already in the midst of turning back around, discouraged by the task that lay ahead. None of us were flinching, however. We'd all seen this before. "So you still want to help? Good." And with that, she guided us in taking our first steps into the chaos, herself immediately leading us towards the grizzly corner where the injured awaited, shuffling past nuns and others in plainclothes, all of them, in one way or another, helping the dying, whether it was escorting them from one place to another, scurrying to fetch or return supplies, bearing them on stretchers, anything. It was clear in watching as we went from one side of the square to another that there was a very clear division in the ranks of those offering their services, apparent only in the apparel they donned rather than the way in which they interacted. There were, on one hand, the nuns, made very visible by their robes, but in addition to them, also lending their services, were those who appeared more similar to Gehor, wearing no form of uniform, simply whatever their possessions allowed, all of them of varying cultural descents, sharing only one thing in common-that they were working their asses off to help those who needed it right now.

"Kala," the mother spoke up, addressing a nun whose head swiftly shot around from where she'd been attending to a patient before. A simple nod from the mother was enough to ease her mind enough for her focus to shift back to her patient as mother still spoke from behind. "How is everything looking here?"

"We're doing what we can," Kala said, shifting the body in front of her to clean a wound on the unconscious man's back. "More are dying by the hour, and we're running low on supplies. We've been rationing the poppy seed blend as much as we can, but that just means more pain for more people."

"Just do what you can. Some pain relief is better than none. Have any more survivors been found yet?"

"We haven't checked the south side of town yet. We've had our hands full here. We can't spare any manpower to find more people for us to tend to when we can barely help the ones we already have here."

"The ones here have a fighting chance. The ones out there don't. We have new volunteers. Introductions can wait. Just show them where they're needed and get some people to the South. I'll be helping organize the supplies if you need to find me. Stay strong, sister."

"Yes, mother. Thank you, mother."

Mother left, simply sending a nod in our direction before departing, all of our attention now shifting to poor Kala who seemed overwhelmed as it was, now needing to instruct us as well.

"Do any of you have medical training?" she asked hastily, still attending to her patient, finding a fresh wound still oozing blood, tending to it immediately.

"We all have experience," Gordez spoke up, his head only turning to Ka'lira for verification, who nodded. Made sense. Pleasure servants aboard Navy vessels generally tended to serve a dual purpose as nurses.

"Good. Go down the line of patients. On their foreheads are small hourly calendars we've drawn in ink. Take their pulses. If they're alive, check off the hour. If not, draw an 'X' and we'll dispose of the bodies later. You, boy, what's your name?"

It took me a small moment to realize it was me who she was referring to, requiring her to turn her head to face me once again, her eyes looking directly at mine as her expression asked the question once again without her mouth needing to move in the slightest. "Luke," I answered.

"Alright, Luke. I need you and Zare to go to the south side of the city and search for survivors." I'm being separated from the others? Why me? And who's Zare? I didn't bother asking the first question, despite, of course, wanting to know why I was going to be separated from the only people I knew here, but seeing the second as perhaps more essential to ask, figuring it best to not start whining about doing something on my own away from those I knew, I asked about this mysterious 'Zare' character, the reply being, following her turning her head as though checking to see if this mysterious "Zare" was still present, "Right there. Down the line by patient 86. Tell her to have Shone take her place. Go! The rest of you, you heard me. Get-" Her words were cut off by me already moving in the direction she had indicated, the figure in the distance who I'd just barely seen, presuming it must have belonged to this "Zare" becoming clearer as I approached.

The first thing I noticed was that she clearly was not among the nuns, donning none of their robes, but in their place, a tattered cloak that hung loose around her, the second thing I noticed being her age, closer to mine than anybody else here, her stature being a dead giveaway, even as she was knelt on a knee over a body that, very clearly, was in no pleasant condition. He seemed to be bleeding from a hundred wounds as though he'd been struck dead on by the full brunt of a shrapnel grenade, and as I neared, such seemed to be the exact case. Who the hell would waste those kinds of weapons on civilians? This "Zare" had just finishing attempting to suture one wound when another opened, the bleeding continuing once again, met by a barrage of grunted curses from the poor girl who, very clearly, was becoming overwhelmed with the task ahead of her. I saw the body. I'd seen similar injuries before. If the man wasn't already dead by some miracle, he would be soon. I had no idea how he'd even made it this far, but by the looks of him, he wouldn't be lasting long. I might be doing her a favor in taking her away from this.

"Damnit! Fuck!" grunted Zare from where she was kneeling, now trying to tend to the new injury on her subject.

"Zare?" I asked, questioning at first to make sure I'd approached the right person. Her head turned to face me, indicating that, at the very least, I'd likely found the right person. Despite the dirt, mud, grime, and blood splattered across her face, what struck out most to me was the way her green eyes shown, the brightest part of her appearance, even brighter than the auburn hair atop her head. Or maybe it's only blood. Can never be too sure.

Her gaze lingered on me for a small moment, eyeing me up and down as though she was questioning if she knew me, eventually realizing she didn't, her face merely settling on mine with a questioning look of "What? Who are you?"

"I'm a volunteer. You're Zare, right?"

"Yeah. Why?" Her attention had already gone back to the dying man before her, only listening as I continued, saying, "'Mother' said you're needed out in the town by the south side to help in looking for other survivors with me. Said Shone will take your place."

"Nice as that sounds," she grunted. "I stop putting pressure on this for a second and he's gonna bleed out." Going to bleed out anyway.

"You keep pressure on it. I'll find Shone and have him take your place."

"Fuck that," she spat. "Help me stabilize this guy first, get his blood to stop flowing, then I'll come." I don't know if I'd hesitated, stood there quietly or something, but she yelled, "Well?!" immediately prompting me to get down on my knees beside her.

"Shrapnel," she said, confirming my suspicions as she removed one hand from the wound she was putting pressure on to grab a rag still reeking of alcohol by her side. "Don't know how many entrance or exit wounds, just the ones still bleeding. Put pressure here. Can't get the shrapnel out. Only thing we can do right now is stop him from bleeding out." I did as she bid, knowing from experience both in the streets and on the field how to go about this. My luck in saving a life hadn't exactly been very successful in the past, failing almost every time I could count, whether it was Mishi, Reek, Gan, so many. I tried to banish the memories from my mind, forcing myself to focus on the here and now, and did just as she bid as she removed her other hand from the wound, allowing me to take her place, herself now reaching for a small bottle of gauze that she splashed onto the rag. The blood beneath the palms of my hands was warm. Better than it being cold. It was almost burning to the touch as I put mor pressure on the wound, the blood working its way in the negatives between the fingers of my clenched hands, emerging on the other side on the back of my hands, painting them a dark maroon red. Zare, by this point, had finished preparing the rag, promptly returning it to the wound that I removed my hands from, allowing her to place it atop, the blood immediately soaking in, turning the rag a sickly pink. As she did so, however, I noticed more fluid escaping from the man from beneath his clothing.

"Got another wound," I said, tracing the path from which the blood had come to just below his left breast. Zare was still placing her attention on the current injury, keeping pressure on it, but the way her head had shot up clearly demonstrated concern, nonvocally bidding me to do something about it. I didn't need her to tell me what to do for me to unsheathe my dagger from my belt and bring it to the shirt atop the man's chest, cutting through, knowing that to pull it off would take too long and put too much undue strain on him. I tore his outfit aside, revealing, as expected, another entry wound. There was no way of knowing how deep inside of him the shrapnel piece was, or if perhaps there was an exit wound on the other side of him, but I immediately clasped both of my hands atop the injury beneath his breast, holding it in place as Zare continued to work, taking the bit of shirt I'd cut off, wrapping it around his abdomen, considering that injury done for the most part for now, her attention shifting to the wound I was tending to.

"How bad?"

"Not good. Check his back. There an exit?"

"Help me get him on his side."

I nodded, her handing me the rag, allowing me to keep it on his wound as we put our weight in getting the man onto his right side, me on his front side, Zare on his back. The moment he was turned over, she finished the work I'd started in tearing off the rest of his outfit.

"Your knife," she requested, met immediately by me finding where I'd left it on the ground, flipping it in my hand to pass it to her by the hilt, herself taking it, her eyes briefly flashing over the ornamentation on the hilt before turning the dagger to the clothes on the man's back, cutting through the material, and ripping the last of his clothing aside, setting the blade on the stone ground with an audible clang.

"There's exit wounds, but I don't know if for that one."

"Can't do surgery on him. Not like this. Have to stop the bleeding first, even start to worry about getting the shrapnel out alter." Why was I letting myself become invested? He's a lost cause. There's no way in hell he's going to make it! But I was a part of this now. Had to see it through.

Zare nodded, knowing I was right, helping to ease the man's body back onto the ground, reaching for the strips of his clothing that she'd cut aside, handing me one end which I promptly started before his right armpit, wrapping it over the wound under his breast, helping ease the man's upper body into the air, allowing Zare to take another end of the cloth strip and wrap it around his back, handing it back to me, the cycle continuing until the material was used up, for the most part covering the majority of his upper body, Zare putting the finishing touches in tying it all together on his back, finally allowing me to ease the man back down.

I leaned back down against the ground, resting on the palms of my hand, my chest still heaving from the strain, letting myself take in what breaths of fresh air I could, glad to not be hunched over his dying body, the smell of rot already kicking in. Zare herself was sat back on the ground, eyes scanning the now naked man, looking for any more blood swelling across his somehow still living carcass.

Zare was next to me, also allowing herself to cool off. The task for the moment seemingly at bay, regaining her breath, seemingly satisfied with the current condition of her patient, him at least not set to die on her watch.

She looked off to her side, a familiar scraping off steel on stone resounding as she picked up my dagger from where she'd set it on the ground and, in a manner similar to how I'd done it, flipped it in her hands, offering me the hilt of the blade, which I promptly took, acknowledging her with a slight nod.

There was no blood on it, but I instinctually wiped the blade on both sides with the leg of my pants prior to sheathing the knife once again.

"So," Zare said, speaking up, barely getting the words out between breaths. "'Mother' wants me, and you apparently, to check the south of town?"

"Seem so," I managed to get out, equally breathless, accompanied by a mere shrug.

A shrug of her own followed, proceeded by her planting her feet solid on the ground, and using them as a baseboard to rise to a stand, saying, "Screw it. Fine. I'll get Shone. I could stand to get out of here for a while."

She walked off, presumably in search of this "Shone." I myself rose to my feet, staying put however, giving the injured man an additional look. My arms were covered in his blood, running from my elbows down to the space between my fingers and nails. His chest was taking in a shallow breath once every 20 seconds. He was hardly clinging on to life. He's not going to make it. It was a miracle he'd even made it this far in the first place.

I turned back around, scanning the square and the chaos flowing all around us. I'd lost track of Zek, Gordez, and Ka'lira, but I could make out Zare's figure not far away, talking to a man I presumed to be Shone, herself now walking back towards me. It had been an interesting introduction, if one could even call it that, and I couldn't help but be curious over what our search of the town was going to entail.

My mind remained focused on the task at hand, however. I had presumed all in this town to be dead, but very clearly, such was not the case. There were still people out there. People needing help. One way or another, we were going to give them the help they needed.

"Alright," Zare said, Shone trailing a ways behind her, on his way to take her station herself now getting back to me. "Looks like we're set to go now," she spoke as she had both of her hands brought up to her hair, which I was now sure to be naturally auburn red, undoing the disheveled braid she'd adorned earlier, settling on tying it in a knot instead as a small messy bun, letting her hands fall back to her sides when she was done, wiping the blood off on her pant legs. "Still got no idea who you are though. Didn't exactly get the chance to introduce ourselves. Sorry 'bout that. And for being kinda a bitch."

I chuckled. "No hard feelings. Field surgery isn't exactly the best place to be making introductions."

"Can't argue there. Name's Zare by the way, but seems you already knew that."

"Zare, huh? Interesting name. It's Fire Nation in't it?"

"Caught me red-handed," she smiled smugly. "Born in Fire Nation occupied territory."

"That's a very generic answer," I stated.

"Perfectly fitting a very generic person," she countered. "Not much to the story more than that, I'm afraid. And you are?" she finished in asking, extending a hand.

"Luke," I said, taking hers and shaking it, the two of us only realizing then just how much blood still caked our limbs, both of us proceeding to try and wipe them clean on our clothing soon after.

"Interesting name yourself," she brought up, myself figuring it was definitely a possibility. "Not very often you find somebody with a name like that out here."

I scoffed. "Guess you could say it was something of a fluke then."

"Ah," she said, a comprehending smile growing on her face then as the numbers put themselves together in her head. "Street name then."

"You nailed it."

A small triumphant smile rose to her face, herself brushing a few rogue strands aside, her green eyes once again what I found to be standing out most on her face, a new feature however now coming into sight-a scar along her right eye, rising from the cheek to the brow, an interesting story I was sure behind it. A story I doubted I'd get to learn, unfortunately. Though in the time we'd be in this town, for perhaps a couple of days, it seemed there'd be some interesting company along at the very least. "Well then," she said, getting back to the task at hand. "Guess we shouldn't just stand here lounging about. Let's get going."