I remember the feeling of a warm, sweaty hand wrapped around mine. I remember my chest getting tight, my breathing fast. The closeness of my body with his. The lack of clothes.

There was a barn, out here in the middle of nowhere. No house. No animals. Just an old barn that was falling apart. Ruined, but still standing. With walls and a roof it was enough to hide the two of us away from the world of shadows and trees.

"Kat," he said, his voice low and quiet as I continued to lead him towards the ruin, "is this okay?"

I didn't look back at him. Couldn't.

"Does it not feel okay?" I asked him.

Silence, then, "I don't know."

I kept walking, my hand tighter around his. I understood. I remembered that uncertainty, too. It was impossible to be completely sure about your first time. It was a frightening, almost horrid concept when you just thought about it.

But he needed this. I needed it. When you do it, it is never as scary as you make it out in your head. It just becomes another way to forget, if only for a short while.

He stopped me when we were just in front of the entrance to the barn. No doors, just a wide, gaping hole that led to darkness even I couldn't see through. From his hesitation, maybe he couldn't see far into it, either.

We stood there for a moment, my hand tight around his. Finally, I looked over and saw him staring at the ground. His hand was just as tight around mine, the other balled into a fist. His entire body was just as pale and sweaty as those hands.

Seeing him like that made my head hurt. It made me sick to my stomach. Some dark compulsion suddenly wanted me to take the knife tied to my leg and drive it back into my body.

"Do you not want to?" I asked. My voice cracked, and I looked away from him. As my stomach continued to churn, I wondered why I had waited so long to ask such a simple, stupid question.

"It's not that," he said. His other hand found my face and he gently nudged me to look up and see his smile. The first one I had seen in weeks. "Sorry, let's go."

Beautiful. That's what he was. I could never say it to his face, but it used to make me jealous. Back when I thought only about the superficial beauty of his features. Now, I could see all of him. His passion. His open and simple sincerity. The way he could see me—know me, without ever having to ask.

He was everything I was not, but it did not make me jealous. It was my strength. He was.

He led me through the darkness of the barn. There was rusted machinery and other debris, but I didn't have long to look too closely. He practically threw himself on me. Lips on mine. Hands exploring. Our bodies somehow grew hotter and sweatier.

We fell to the ground. Him on top of me. There was nothing left to remove on him, and he made quick work on what little still covered me. For a second, the passion of the moment quelled inside me when I knew he could see everything. The imperfections. The burns. I kept my eyes shut tight as I felt his exploring every inch of me.

A strangled gasp escaped my mouth when his tenderly traced over the burns on my chest and side. Gentle, cooling kisses that fought against the burning that never really went away. A different sort of fire reignited in my chest and I grabbed his face when it neared mine and forced our lips together again.

We kissed more. Our hands explored more. And I knew the time was coming. We could only dance around it for so long until we took that next step. He had to feel it just as much as I did.

But he did not take that next step. Our kissing softened to light, whispering pecks and his hands eventually came to rest on my shoulders. Only when they started shaking, with light drops of something cold and wet hitting my chest, did I open my eyes.

Red hair fell like a curtain around his face. His body, slim and taut with muscle, hovered over mine as if he was frozen in place. It was only his hands that moved as they gripped my shoulders tight.

"I don't know what I'm doing," he said, his voice broken by a barely controlled sob.

I am usually only aware of what's on the surface of the people around me. I can not see the secret pains hidden behind words or the layers of emotion tied within the simplest of expressions. I have to ask if I want to understand most people.

But not him. Not anymore.

I reached out and pushed the hair away from his face. A face soft and wet with tears. I kept my hands on the side of his head—kept him looking down on me until he opened his eyes and saw my smile.

"I'm with you. Always," I said and pulled him into a hug that brought our bodies closer than they could ever be together. I tensed as his breathing hitched by my ear. "Let me show you."

...

"Your face is red."

I reached out to feel my cheek, then thought better of it. Mouse was watching me, her own face colorless and completely unreadable.

"You getting sick? Even for familiars, running around naked in the woods for weeks can take a toll, you know."

Mouse's voice was flat. Her gaze was unbroken and I felt the need to cross my arms over my chest, but didn't. I wasn't going to let her make me feel uncomfortable in my own skin.

"I'm fine," I said, turning my attention back to the houses.

An entire neighborhood lay in our horizon. It was difficult to tell what sort of community it once was, as the water still reached high enough to obstruct half the buildings from view. Only the ones on higher ground were saved from submersion, but still most of the windows, walls, and doors were damaged from the flood. Ruined, like the barn.

Right, that's why I had been thinking about it.

"Well, even if you and Foxy are both fine with exposing your sensitive bits to the world, your audience will no longer be unfeeling trees and sweet, selfless Stallion. That's why we're here, remember?"

She was still staring at me, and I clenched my jaw. "I remember."

"Really?" Our eyes met, and Mouse shrugged. She walked around me and down the jagged mountain path. "Could have fooled me. With all that staring into space you've been doing, I could have told you I led you out here to kill you and you would have just nodded and said 'I'm fine'."

She said the last two words in a pretty good impression of my voice. And she wasn't wrong. Following her through the random jumble of trees, climbing up and down the sides of mountains, wading through rivers and streams, it had all been a blur I could hardly remember.

The suppressing heat of the pitch black barn. The rough dirt digging in my back. Our burning bodies twisting and turning together. That I could remember. I would make sure I couldn't forget it.

Maybe I should have been ashamed or guilty for thoughts like that, but I wasn't. It was simple. It was easy. It was the first thing in years that made me happy.

"Now you're smiling," Mouse observed, and I quickly shot my face to the ground. "You positive you're not sick?"

"Yes." I focused intensely on each stone and clod of dirt I passed as we continued to make our way down. I immediately caught the heels of Mouse's feet as she had slowed her pace and slowed my own to keep from running right into her. Her eyes were burned into the top of my head.

"Mind sharing? It's been one hell of a month and I could definitely use—."

"No," I said, and continued as soon as I realized I had cut her off. "It wouldn't mean anything to you."

"That so?" Mouse's voice had more pitch to it, and her eyes moved away from me. I glanced up to see her back to focusing on the unreliable path down the side of the mountain, her hands clasped behind her back. "I guess you're right. I'm not on the same page as you, Stallion, and Foxy. I know that. Never was."

I thought about saying something, but couldn't think of what to say. Like always, she was right. Maybe I didn't mean what I said as a slight against her, but there wasn't a point in trying to clarify. Neither of us cared.

...

The houses were much bigger up close, even the half-drowned ones. After spending so long in a city filled with shoulder to shoulder towers of noise and bustle, it was surreal seeing such grand buildings sitting so comfortable and solitary. I imagined they would have once seemed untouchable as well, if not for August.

Mouse did not pause or even glance at the mostly unmolested homes that were lucky enough to be atop hills or built into the side of the mountain. From where she was looking and heading, our first stop was going to be one of the drowning houses.

"Why those?" I asked. I didn't want to speak, not after how our last talk went, but I also wasn't a fan of water. Maybe it was a cat thing, or just a natural fear from a time I couldn't remember, but I needed to know why we were avoiding perfectly dry houses more than likely still filled with clothes.

"Less likely there'll be someone in there," Mouse answered without turning or stopping. "We can't risk leaving anyone who sees us alive with a Knower of memory part of the group hounding you three. Not until you are all properly clothed and disguised, of course. And I don't know about you, but I'd rather avoid killing people that have nothing to do with this."

I bit the inside of my cheek. Again, she was right, but we were getting closer to the almost-lake all the remaining houses were wading in. More fresh memories were rushing in as I stared into the calm waters. Like when I almost died to a monster that could hide just beneath the surface.

"Would anyone still be here?" I glanced back at the water-free homes that were now well behind us. I could see nothing but darkness through the shattered windows and holes in the walls. "I could go check, just to be sure."

"No, too risky," Mouse insisted, and I turned back to see we had reached the edge of the August-made lake. My travel companion had turned to give me a look that, all at once, sent a stabbing pain straight through my forehead. "You'd be surprised how much value people put into lifeless things."

The look went away and I dropped my eyes as I rubbed my forehead. The pain was already turning into a dull throb, but it had been so immediate and intense. Like a terrible headache, but centered on the middle of my forehead.

What was that look? What did it mean?

Mouse was still watching me and I kept my eyes closed, just in case she decided to make another face that my head didn't agree with.

"I understand," I said.

"Glad to hear it."

A sloshing of water followed her words. She was walking into the pit of water, and it only took a few feet before it reached her waist. Her face was remarkably void of any visible emotion as she turned to call out to me. "Come on. We can't have the boys wait in one spot for us all day."

Right. You're right, Mouse. Always right.

I stared down into my reflection. Into a face I didn't recognize through the burns and ripples. My breathing stopped halfway in my throat when I dipped my foot into the ice cold water.

Didn't mean I had to like it.

There was no way through the front door of the first house we reached. The water was deep enough to force us to paddle, and it took up more than half of the door. I was going to offer to clear out one of the windows with the hilt of my knife, but Mouse was already throwing her elbow into one. She used her bare hand to wipe away the shards of glass.

"Doesn't that hurt?" I asked as I treaded the ice cold water just behind her.

Mouse examined her bleeding hand while using the uninjured one to pull herself up and out of the water. "It'll heal," was all she said before diving into the inside of the house with a soft splash.

Something was bothering her. After a display like that, even someone like me could tell. Of course, I had no idea what it could be. Mouse was as good at hiding her true feelings as I was bad at finding them. I knew she felt something for Foxy. I knew she probably didn't like me. Beyond that, she was a mystery to me.

"Careful of the bodies," Mouse said as soon as I hoisted myself through the window.

I saw them before she had even said anything, and was frozen with my stomach resting painfully on the divide between the inside and outside of the drowned house. Bloated, white bodies floated in what was once a sprawling living room. Four of them in total, two big and two very small.

"I'd try and avoid touching them," Mouse said, and again I felt her eyes boring into me. "They've been soaking here for awhile. They'd probably fall apart at the slightest—"

"Stop." I met Mouse's eyes as the bile threatened to rise. Their faces were puffed beyond recognition, but I knew what I was looking at.

"So, the deaths of innocents do bother you."

My breathing was shallow. My head light. I forced myself into the house to keep from falling in as my body grew harder to control.

It was a family. Probably a mother and a father, and their kids. I faced away from the scene and gripped the window sill. I wanted to crawl back out, but my body was numb from the cold and the shock. When something wet touched my shoulder, I almost screamed thinking it was one of the bodies. I didn't feel much better when I looked and saw Mouse's unreadable face.

"Whatever August is to you and your Master, whoever he presents himself as, this is the result if he continues to walk free," Mary said, her hand on my shoulder tightening.

I looked away from her and sucked in a breath. Pain was stabbing again into my head. Sharp jolts that made me tense my jaw and brought tears to the corners of my eyes. It was a pain I was not familiar with. Worse than what Fawn's creations did to me. Worse than when I stabbed myself in the stomach.

"Stop it," I muttered. I placed a hand against Mouse's chest to try and shove her away, but my body was still hard to manage, and she easily fought me off.

"I know he was last seen with your Master. I know she incapacitated him, but did not kill him. She wants him for something, and you and I both know she has nothing but bad intentions for Foxy. If you really do care about his well being, and are still somehow hiding something from me, I need to know everything."

"I don't know—"

I was cut off when Mouse grabbed my jaw and forced my eyes to meet hers again. The pain stabbed deeper until it was almost unbearable.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't know," she hissed.

"I don't know," I said through clenched teeth before pulling my face out of her grip. The ache was still raging strong, but something burned just as bright in my chest. "You brought me here on purpose. You knew they were here."

Mouse was using a floating chair to help keep herself afloat, but she still managed to shrug. "I still have a job to do."

The smell of it all hit me just then. The putrid rot and decay. I barely had enough time to throw my head out the window before throwing up. I made the mistake of watching the green bile float for a moment before more came out. It felt like a solid minute of hacking and spewing, and it left a terrible taste in my mouth.

The only consolation was that the pain in my head was all but gone.

"Why don't you do your job and turn us in?" I asked as I pulled my head back into the drowned house, before Mouse could say anything. "Is it because of Foxy?"

"Yes," she said without missing a beat. With our eyes still locked, she pointed a finger at me. "So you'd better take care of him. Don't think you or Stallion are safe if anything happens to him. The moment he's gone, the two of you will be getting what's coming to you."

I just stared back at her. Of course, I couldn't promise I wouldn't let anything happen. Not when so much has already happened. And if something did happen to him, I would be fine to receive whatever I had coming. There would be nothing left without him.

There was nothing else I had left.

"Your Master is still out there," Mouse said, using the chair to kick her away through the room filled with water. She pushed past a few of the bodies like they were more floating furniture. "Enjoy your time with Alex while you can. Eventually, you are just going to hurt him again."

The ice cold water that surrounded me was only making my weak body numb, but I could not follow the other familiar. Her words brought the ache back in my head and it stretched and settled into every bone in my body.

You are right, Mouse. My Master was still out there. Still a threat I couldn't run or hide from forever. She could make me try and hurt Foxy again. Kill him. I fought her order last time, but it took everything. Would I have enough to do it again? Would it even matter?

Stab, stab, stabbing in my brain. Pain enough to tear it apart. Smash it into pulp.

It would be best if I could kill her. But she was strong. Stronger than me.

Hurt. Everything hurt.

Foxy could kill her, if I told him that it was okay. If it meant he could live. But, even if she did die, there was still four children waiting to take her place. The mantle of my Master.

Stop it. Stop. Please, make it stop. The pain is too much. Don't look at me like that. Don't look at me. Don't.

If the children all died, I would be free. I could never hurt Foxy again.

"Plenty of clothes in here, Kat!" Mouse called from somewhere beyond the fog of pain. "Get over here, I can't carry it all and we need to do this quick!"

The white bodies floated beside me, and I almost threw up again. I would have, but there was nothing left inside me. Just disgusting air and stale coughs. But the pain left again and in its absence I was left feeling sick. A twisting in my stomach as cold tears fell down my burning face.

"I'm sorry," I said to no one and swam to where Mouse had disappeared, carefully avoiding the pale family that seemed to try and follow me.

Maybe, when I'm with him again, I'll know what to do.

...

*Author's Note*

So, this Kat is a lot different from the one who appeared so hostile to Foxy back in the beginning of the first book. But, is this change for the better? Instead of hostile, Kat is attached to the red haired boy, and willing to do almost anything for him. Maybe even try and rid herself of the people she once might have considered family.

I'd love to hear you all's thoughts on the matter. What would you guys and gals do in Kat's place?