Lorne and Cecily turned down one of the broad thoroughfares off the square leading towards the market. They were careful to walk within the shadows of the buildings and when they passed open doors they slowed and listened for signs of movement from inside. Lorne had tied the scabbard to her hip, though she kept the blade drawn. Cecily also kept her knife ready. But all was quiet.

The girls made it to the market without issue. It was the same here as it was everywhere else, doors torn open, some ripped clean off the hinges. Embers smoldered here and there, but nothing else. Not even blood. They entered Marianne's shop and quietly pulled the door shut. After several moments of scanning the room, they were satisfied that they were safe. Lorne, ever vigilant, didn't want to sheath the sword. Instead, she handed it to Cecily.

"Hold onto this," she said. "I'm gonna look around for some healing herbs."

Cecily acquiesced. The blade dipped when she took it, but she righted it quickly, readying it against her shoulder.

The shop was largely untouched, aside from some of the locktops near the door, which were pushed out of place and toppled. Lorne walked along the shelves on the wall, occasionally stopping to pick up a bundle of herbs to observe them in the light coming in through the windows.

"What are you looking for?" Cecily asked.

"Calendula," she responded, another bundle in her hand, "my dad and I—" she stopped for a moment, swallowing the wave of grief. "Anyway, it's good for cleaning wounds."

Cecily wanted to tend to her friend, but ultimately decided to leave it. Now wasn't the time. They needed to stay on task. She peeked out the door instead, keeping an eye out for any more of those monsters.

The floorboards creaked as Lorne continued her search. Marianne made a game of rearranging her shop just to screw with her father. The look she would give Lorne in those moments always made her laugh. The ghost of a smile flashed on her lips, though it vanished just as quickly. Then she finally saw it. Thin, bushy leaves with densely-petaled orange flowers. They were on the shelf nearest the back of the shop.

"Found them," she said.

"Great," Cecily responded, "grab a bundle and let's get back to the others."

Lorne first reached behind the counter and pulled out a bag to carry them in; slinging it over her shoulder. She grabbed several bunches, more than she thought they'd need, and stuffed them in the bag. There were some other medicinal herbs she recognized but didn't know the names of, so she shoved them in there too.

"Are you almost ready?" Cecily asked, eyes glued to the slit in the door. "I'm starting to feel a bit uneasy."

"Yeah, I'm coming." Lorne rounded the locktops, walking down the center of the room towards the door. But the tip of her boot clipped something on the floor causing it to skid across the wood. Sounded like something metal. She stopped to pick it up. It was a small brass key on a thin chain. Marianne's. The hope that Lorne was holding on to that the other villagers had escaped whatever happened here was shattered in an instant. This was all the proof she needed. She dropped it in the bag and approached the door. She swallowed this down too.

"Alright, let's go."

Cecily nodded, passing the sword back to Lorne, and opened the door silently. They crept along the buildings as they had done before, but Lorne no longer looked inside the open doors. Nobody would be in there. Those things, whatever they are, took them. That's the only explanation that makes sense. But then why didn't they take her father? Why kill him? Is it because he put up a fight? If that's the case, then what about uncle Boyd and even Marianne? They'd fight too. The more she thought about it, the more dizzy she felt. None of this made sense. In fact, it made less sense now than it did when they arrived. She was lost in thought until Cecily yanked on the back of her collar.

"Lor!" she whispered urgently, "Gods, where's your head at?!"

Lorne shook the thoughts from her head, "What? What's wrong?"

"Look!"

They had made it back to the square, but they weren't alone. Out where they left the corpse of the creature that Connell killed were three figures with their backs towards the girls. They stood tall and composed, adorned from head to toe with armor. Swords hung from two of their hips and the third had a short spear strapped to their back. Her father's sword pulsed against her palm. She couldn't tell whether it was her own heart beating back at her, or if the sword had a heart of its own.

"What do we do?" Cecily asked through gritted teeth. "We have to go that way!"

"We'll have to wait for them to leave."

Lorne and Cecily were already nestled flat against a building, concealed in its shadow. But then the figures started to move. They turned on their heels and headed towards the market. Towards them. The girls panicked, but held tight to their nerves. Before the three figures got too close, Lorne and Cecily slipped into the building they were hiding beside and found some barrels at the back of the room to tuck themselves behind. Cecily's panic was beginning to overtake her and her breathing grew more rapid and unsteady. Lorne grabbed her face and locked eyes with her, getting her friend's breathing to fall back into rhythm with her own. They stayed like that as the footsteps drew closer.

Three pairs of boots against cobblestone, three distinct gaits. Each step hung in the girls' chests until the next one fell. Three pairs passed the door. Then two continued on. Then none. They had stopped. The girls didn't dare chance even a glance. They stayed still. Then boot hit wood. Lorne felt Cecily tense up, tears were forming at the corners of her eyes. She brushed her friend's cheek with her thumb and mouthed stay calm. She nodded. The solitary footsteps continued into the building, the wood creaking beneath them. It was still for a moment. Even without looking, Lorne could feel their eyes scanning, scrutinizing. She was so focused on calming Cecily that her own panic was building unchecked. She reached a hand down and gripped the sword. This time it was Cecily who reached out and touched her cheek. She shook her head. No. Lorne understood what she meant; they had no idea who these people (if they're even people) could be. But if a fight is unavoidable, then it was best to at least get one of them by surprise. She'd made up her mind: if they took one step closer, she'd cut them down. The moments felt like small eternities until the sound of a boot against wood rattled in their skulls. But this time it was retreating toward the open door. Wood, wood, wood, wood, cobblestone. Then one set of boots became three again and their footfalls faded as they went down the lane and finally vanished.

The girls kept waiting long after the footsteps fell silent. Eventually, they were confident that those three figures were truly gone. They exited the building and ran for the other side of the square, where they hoped their friends were still safely hidden.