The first rays of dawn peeked through grimy windows, painting the cobblestone streets with a pale orange glow. Kate emerged, ever the creature of habit, blending into the bustling morning crowd.

Gone was the tattered cloak; a single diagonal slash marred the fabric, now a makeshift scarf—a reminder of the recent incident. Her jerkin was now a sleeveless top, prioritizing agility. A scavenged religious robe, hemmed for movement, completed the ensemble. The red bead, once hidden, now hung proudly around her neck.

Fiery hair danced in the breeze as she navigated the streets, Roy perched on her shoulder. "Not now, Roy," she murmured, his orange fur a potential giveaway. "Back to Haz soon, I promise." A pang struck her as she approached the town's outskirts, where the graveyard lay.

Reaching her father's unmarked grave, she felt a familiar ache. "Good morning, Papa," she whispered. "I'm back in the old house. And... the new owner is teaching me things! Medicine, survival skills... a fresh start, right?"

Silence descended. Kate ran a hand through her hair. "Sorry, Papa, things are getting better, for me and Roy. I wish you could see this path." A tear landed on a resilient plant pushing through cracked earth.

"I hope I'm making you proud," she finished, barely a whisper. Leaving the graveyard, Kate felt detached. The streets seemed muted. News of her demise had spread; faces held relief, even twisted satisfaction. The town, it seemed, had celebrated.

New faces, immigrants who'd fled her past exploits, dotted the streets. A strange irony—dead or alive, she inspired fear and a warped sense of peace. Irritation sparked within her. Those petty thievery days felt like a shameful dream. Now, with Hazzle, she craved a clean slate.

Roy nestled closer. Partners in crime, forged by the past. Unlike her, Roy wasn't burdened by choice. Pushing doubts aside, Kate quickened her pace. Throwing open the door, she greeted Hazzle with forced cheer.

"Hey, Haz! What lesson next?"

Silence. No clatter from the kitchen, no murmur from the clinic/classroom. Unease settled in her stomach. The living room, where she'd collapsed after Hazzle's "wine," was undisturbed.

The kitchen offered no clues. It was Hazzle's room that sent a jolt of fear through her. The door hung open, revealing disarray. The room, normally sterile, was shrouded in darkness, lit only by a flickering candle.

On a makeshift desk—a worn table littered with books—Kate saw a small figure slumped over, face buried in papers. Books lay scattered. Dread gripped Kate. Had something happened to Hazzle?

Adrenaline jolted Kate forward. She crossed the room, concern etched on her face. Her hands trembled as she reached out.

Hazzle, oblivious, remained slumped. The candle cast grotesque shadows. Her hair hung limply, framing exhausted eyes. Papers were strewn across the desk. The air was heavy with burnt wax and desperation.

"Haz!" Kate's voice was a strangled cry. Her gaze was fixed on Hazzle's dazed eyes.

A slow groan escaped Hazzle's lips. Her head lolled up, blinking. Disorientation clouded her features before recognition dawned.

"Miss Kate?" Hazzle rasped. "I'm alright. Just a... rough night with the studies." Nausea crossed her face as the room seemed to tilt.

The floorboards groaned as Kate moved through the room, clutching scattered papers. Settling onto a chair, she scanned the research.

There was a hint of perverse satisfaction in seeing Hazzle's sacrifice, mixed with genuine concern. "Hey, Haz," she began, her voice a touch too loud. Hazzle sat across from her, hunched over breakfast, battling exhaustion.

"Before I delve into this... wealth of information," Kate continued, emphasizing the amount, "can I ask something?"

Hazzle mumbled assent, her spoon clattering. She righted it, blinking.

"Haz," Kate's voice softened. "I don't think you need to... dumb it down so much." She scrutinized the papers. This wasn't just lost sleep; it was a concession.

"Yeah, I get it," Kate conceded. "Some of this might be much for my... former life," she added with self-disgust. "That life I almost wasted. Back then, anything felt like a win."

Her tone shifted, resolve settling in. "But I ain't some kid anymore. I can handle something meatier, Haz."

Hazzle met Kate's gaze, weariness forgotten. "I know you can, Miss Kate," she replied, her voice raspy but firm. "More information leads to deeper understanding. But like a building, you need a strong foundation. We can get there, but we have to start somewhere."

A defeated sigh escaped Hazzle as she pushed herself up, her fingers trailing along her nose. The silence hung heavy, broken only by rustling pages.

Hazzle found herself drawn towards the window, a spark of alertness flickering in her tired eyes. The world outside, once blurred by exhaustion, sharpened into focus. A figure with red hair barely glimpsed through the dusty pane, sent a jolt of recognition through her. Her breath caught in her throat, eyes widening as her cheeks flushed a rosy hue. A silent murmur escaped her lips, barely audible over the pounding in her ears.

"Hey, Haz," Kate's voice cut through the tense silence. "Looks like you spilled something on the notes. What was it originally..."

The sound of Kate's voice startled Hazzle from her trance. She whirled around, her heart hammering against her ribs, a blush staining her cheeks. "M-Miss Kate? I mean, Kate... what were you asking?" Her voice, usually crisp and professional, trembled slightly, betraying the turmoil within.

"Just about this black smudge on the page," Kate replied, turning the paper to show a dark stain, like a morbid inkblot against the faded writing. It momentarily held Kate's attention, but her gaze soon flickered back to Hazzle's flustered state. "Though, forget that for a second. What was that back there? You looked like you saw a ghost. Everything alright? Remember, staying put was the plan." Her voice held a hint of concern, laced with a self-deprecating chuckle as she gestured to herself with a thumb. "This town isn't exactly thrilled about my apparent return from the dead."

Hazzle felt the world tilt for a moment, her senses overloaded by the rapid shift from fear to relief to a desperate need to explain. When the world righted itself, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Oh, Miss Kate... yes, I must be... tired, you see?" A weak smile tugged at the corner of her lips, failing to mask the nervous tremor in her voice. "Speaking of, have you tried any of... the wine? The one I brought?"

Kate raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Sure, I tried it. Not exactly my cup of tea, that's for sure. Besides," she added with a playful jab, "your flustered performance just now made that whole act a little less believable, wouldn't you say, Doc?"

Hazzle took a deep breath, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "Miss Kate," she confessed, her voice barely a whisper, "I saw someone outside earlier, and I..." Doubt clouded her features as she searched for the right words. The elegant figure, bathed in sunlight, replayed in her mind, sending a fresh wave of heat to her cheeks.

Seeing Hazzle's growing mortification, Kate softened her tone. "You want me to help you find someone, make new friends?" she offered with a hint of amusement.

The silence stretched between them, thick as the dust motes dancing in the afternoon sunlight. Kate, ever impulsive, reached across the table, her palm outstretched for a handshake. Hazzle hesitated, her fingers twitching nervously. Confessing her secret, exposing this strange vulnerability, felt terrifying. Yet, the prospect of Kate's help, the glimmer of genuine friendship in her eyes, was a tempting counterpoint.

The scholar's internal debate played out in the tremor of her hand. With a sigh, she met Kate's grip, the calloused skin of the thief a stark contrast to Hazzle's pale fingers.

"Haz," Kate began, a hint of glee coloring her voice, "I bet we can find these people faster than you can say 'wanted poster.'"

Hazzle, however, couldn't shake off a gnawing unease. "Miss Kate," she started, her voice quiet but firm, "I appreciate your enthusiasm, truly. But you seem to be forgetting a rather important detail."

A playful smile flickered across Kate's face, then faltered. Hazzle pressed on.

"You, Miss Kate, are a walking target with a bright orange tail tucked in your pocket. This town... well, let's just say they're not exactly thrilled about your supposed demise. Another 'untimely' accident wouldn't be entirely surprising, considering their... Madness streak." She gestured vaguely towards the window, where a growing crowd milled about.

Kate's hand tightened around Hazzle's, a brief flash of defiance crossing her features. "Don't worry about that, Haz," she said, her voice gaining a dangerous edge. "Roy can handle himself. We'll stick together."

The last sentence hung in the air, heavy with unspoken truth. Kate's eyes fluttered shut, a wave of panic washing over her. The image of Roy, alone and vulnerable amidst the throngs outside, sent a jolt of fear through her. The cocky swagger she'd worn moments ago melted away, replaced by a raw vulnerability. Without Roy by her side, she felt like a ship without a rudder, lost at sea.

She opened her eyes, meeting Hazzle's gaze. A forced smile stretched across her face, a mask for the turmoil within. "Look," she began, her voice barely a whisper, "even without Roy, we can manage. We have each other's backs, right? And besides," she continued, her voice gaining a hint of its usual bravado, "I'm a master of the shadows, remember? The worst kind of thief. And you, Doc, you're going to be the best version of yourself. I believe in you."

Hazzle studied Kate, her brow furrowed in concern. Despite the positive facade Kate presented, a flicker of unshed tears glistened in her eyes. Hazzle's lips curved into a hesitant smile.

"Perhaps a break is in order, Doc Haz," Kate suggested, her voice betraying a tremor of emotion she tried to mask.

Hazzle picked up on the subtle shift, a spark of warmth igniting in her chest. "If I wasn't striving to be the best version of myself, Kate," she replied, her voice gaining a hint of unexpected confidence, "I wouldn't have agreed to this plan in the first place."

A jolt of energy crackled through Kate, a sense of hope rekindled by Hazzle's assertiveness. It was a fleeting glimpse, a crack in the scholar's facade, but a beacon for Kate.

Twilight painted the room as Hazzle reviewed documents. Kate stroked Roy, guilt twisting in her gut. Taking a deep breath, she spoke in a low voice. "Roy, listen. Haz and I are out tonight, finding new... entertainment. You know how cooped up she's been." Roy squeaked, nuzzling her hand. Kate placed him back, her voice lighter. "Alright, Roy, time to change. No trouble while we're gone, alright?"

Alone, Kate surveyed her reflection. Pulling her hood low, she murmured, "You can do this, Kate. You and Haz are a team. Maybe this will make Ms. Clover and Papa proud. Focus on the future."

Her gaze lingered on the faded cloak, a crimson stain a chilling reminder. With a sigh, she bundled it into a makeshift scarf. The stain was hidden, but the memory remained.

The floorboards groaned as Kate descended the darkened stairs. Reaching the bottom, she found Hazzle waiting, transformed.

Hazzle's cloak, familiar yet different, hung with a predatory grace. The hood pulled low, and cast her face in shadow, revealing only glinting eyes.

"Like the new look, Doc?" Kate drawled, a hint of bitterness lacing her voice.

Hazzle tilted her head, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "As breathtaking as ever, Miss Kate," she replied, her voice husky. "Though it's hardly new, is it? Just the hood."

Kate scoffed, her bitterness hardening into resolve. "New or not," she retorted, "it serves a purpose."

Hazzle's smile faltered. "Right," she murmured, regret flickering across her features. "A reminder of that... first encounter. Quaint, I suppose."

Kate smirked. Quaint? Hardly. But bigger things were at stake tonight.

Pushing open the creaky front door, Kate was greeted by a sight that sent a jolt through her. The once-grim town square, shrouded in perpetual twilight, was now ablaze with color. Lanterns, strung across the streets, pulsed with a vibrant luminescence, casting an otherworldly glow on the cobblestone streets. Music, a lively melody unlike anything Kate had ever heard in this town, filled the air, drawing laughter and cheers from the gathered crowd.

Kate blinked, dumbfounded. How had this transformation happened overnight? The town she knew, the one cloaked in perpetual gloom, had vanished. In its place stood a vibrant, joyous scene that felt like a figment of her imagination.

Hazzle, however, seemed equally bewildered. Her eyes darted around the scene, wide with astonishment. "By the saints," she breathed her voice barely a whisper. "This town... had this kind of life before?"

"Yeah, Doc," Kate replied, her voice rough with disbelief. "Before the... incident. This was how it always was or was supposed to be once before the mines turned to ashes..."

A wave of nausea washed over her as the weight of her past actions slammed into her. This joyous scene, this life-filled town – it had all been there, within her grasp, before it was all snuffed out.

The music seemed to distort, the laughter morphing into a cacophony of accusing whispers. Kate stumbled back, her gaze falling upon Hazzle, who had frozen in her tracks, her face contorted in a mixture of horror and... recognition?

Following Hazzle's gaze, Kate's blood ran cold. A crudely painted sign, propped precariously against a lamppost, assaulted her vision. "KATE-GRAVE-PARTY-!" it declared, the words scrawled in dripping red paint. The hastily erected wooden cross beside it, adorned with a grotesque rotten and painted lifeless rat, completed the package of morbid mockery.

The makeshift grave sent the world spinning for Kate. Her knees buckled, the cold stones biting through her thin pants. A humorless scoff escaped her lips. "Fitting monument, Doc," she rasped, voice barely audible over the festive chaos. Hazzle, ever practical, stood beside her. "Morbid. But a party? Celebrating your 'death'?"

Kate's shrug couldn't hide the tremors in her hands. "Beats me. Maybe a belated celebration for what my 'incident' supposedly saved them from."

Hazzle frowned. "Incident? You mean the... scare tactics, stolen trinkets?"

Bitterness laced Kate's laugh. "That's it? A few scares and trinkets? Mock funeral and town party?"

Despair gnawed at her. "They hate me, Haz. Petty. Maybe they're right. Maybe I am better off dead. What good am I here, ostracized by the..." Her voice trailed off, shame replacing self-pity. Hazzle's surprisingly firm hand landed on her shoulder.

"Kate," she said, her professional facade momentarily cracking. "You have a purpose. You saved me from my isolation. You gave me a reason to step out of my dusty books and into the world. Remember when you stumbled in here, wounded and desperate? This town may have a short memory, but I don't. This too will pass. A corpse, especially a forgotten one, holds no power over them. Besides, wouldn't it be sweeter to prove them wrong? To live a life that makes this mockery a joke?"

A flicker of her old defiance flickered in Kate's eyes. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "You're right, Doc," she admitted, her voice regaining its usual bravado. "Let them celebrate their little illusion. We'll be out there, living and breathing, while they drown their sorrows in cheap ale. Besides, a few distractions wouldn't hurt. Makes blending in a bit easier, wouldn't you say?"

Hazzle couldn't help but smile, a genuine one this time. "Indeed, Miss Kate," she replied, the playful formality a familiar comfort. "Indeed. Now, about those 'shots' you mentioned..."

TO BE CONTINUED