Silver Blood, Broken Wings, Shattered Heart

Chapter 4: Guild

Fourteen years old, now, and with not one heart shard left to her name, Amya walks through the streets of House Boatem's territory. It's somewhat light out, as light as it gets in the human lands, with the rare blue sky peeking out occasionally from the shroud of clouds.

This is fine with Amya, no crying is needed today. Yes, apparently that House Bloodstone man she killed yesterday had turns out to be some very popular, powerful noble and now everyone is after his murderer. . .but hey, he had enough money on him that Amya won't have to kill again for nearly a month, if she spends it wisely! Some new clothes are definitely in order, and a new knife would be useful as well. A night or two at an inn with real beds would be a rare luxury!

Somewhere behind her, Amya hears scurries.

She turns swiftly, brushing her short hair at the moment out of her face and readying to draw her knife. All that lurks there is a stray cat, brown with black speckles, licking its paw. Amya sighs with relief and takes her hand off the hilt of the knife.

"A bit bright out for criminals, isn't it, little girl?"

Amya turns again to see someone maybe a year or so older than her standing there, with short, platinum blond hair and dark amber eyes. She leans against the wall in a foreboding manner.

"Which is why I'm out at such a time. It's a lovely day, and my parents are letting me out alone for the first time in so long," Amya smiles innocently. She's perfected the innocent peasant girl act over the past several years.

The stranger nods slowly, "No need to carry a knife then, right?"

Amya forces a laugh, "No need at all. I haven't a clue how to use it, but it makes my parents feel safer, so. . ."

The stranger silently draws a blade, and charges forward-

Amya grabs her knife and evades to the side and runs into a nearby alley - no witnesses is always preferable. The stranger runs after her.

Perfect.

Amya jumps up onto a pile of rotting boxes and makes her stand there, now having the high ground despite her short stature. She looks down at the stranger defiantly, her knife gleaming dangerously.

"Tougher than you look, aren't you?" the stranger asks.

"I've survived this long somehow," Amya replies through gritted teeth.

"And when I'm done, no longer," the stranger mimics Amya's strategy and hops onto some boxes behind her and onto the roof of a low building, running along it before jumping onto a box right next to Amya's.

"Ha, the high ground isn't always an advantage!" Amya retorts, honestly enjoying this. She leaps onto the ground and kicks over the boxes, sending them creaking and toppling down. The stranger jumps off onto the ground before falling with them, leaving the two facing off on equal ground again.

"Huh, I'll take that advice," The stranger grins as she uses her leg to trip Amya.

Amya scrambles to stand up, gripping her knife tighter, "I'll give you one thing, you aren't as stupid as most of my victims." Maybe it's that, but it might also be that Amya usually has the element of surprise. She's never fought without it before. Still, she's confident. What's there to lose, anyway? She has no heart to stab, she has no home to go back to, she has no soul to separate from her body.

So, as far as she's concerned: Bring it on, stranger. Bring. It. On.

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or insult," The stranger shrugs.

"It's a backhanded compliment," Amya says cheerfully.

"Now you're reminding me of my brother Ran," the stranger sighs, "Why his husband's name is Tub. . .I don't understand his parents' thought processes, that's for sure."