Karla sighed as she turned away from the root-framed mirror in the main room of her house. The last few days had been some of the worst of her life, and now she was beginning to see it in her reflection. Her black hair had gray streaks forming through it, and the wrinkles on her face were becoming more pronounced. Grieving had certainly taken its toll on her in every way it could.

She buttoned up her tan vest and secured a blade in her sleeve; she rarely brought her chained blades around the village with her if she could help it. She slowly turned around when she felt a soft tugging on her pant leg.

Soekka looked up at her with his large, beautiful brown eyes, one hand clinging to a small blanket and the other to her pant leg. He had the same jet-black hair as Karla, though lacking any of the aged features.

He looks so much like his father, she realized with both admiration and sadness. She smiled at him, then knelt to the ground to be at his level. “Hello, my dear,” she said softly, trying to keep the grief out of her voice as much as possible. “Are you ready to go to the market with me?”

He just stared at her with his brown eyes and then held his small arms out to her. She smiled even more, then picked him up and held him on her hip. This was a scenario that Karla never thought she nor anyone else would see her in: holding a child on her hip. It was not the sort of retirement that was expected for a general of the Great War, especially one of Karla’s caliber.

Soekka just let his tiny arms hang limply and laid his head on Karla’s shoulder. He was a wonderful child; he never cried nor screamed, but just wanted to be close to Karla whenever possible. Karla was very hesitant at first to even accept her nephew’s son, but it didn’t take long for her to fall absolutely in love with him. She had seen him several times before, when visiting her nephew and his wife, but she never paid much attention to him then. Now, two years of his life had passed, and Karla was the only other member of his family still alive, and he was all that was left of hers.

“Come,” she whispered in his ear, “let’s go find some nice apples for breakfast.”

She walked over to the table and snatched up her purse of coins, putting it in one of her vest pockets. Just then, someone knocked softly on the door.

Who in the world would be bothering me at home?

Karla had thought that everyone would leave her to grieve for a few more days before interrupting her peace, though she did worry that she would be questioned in the current investigations. She trusted Jacob to defend her to a certain point, but she knew that, eventually, scythe would be knocking on her door with inquiries.

She headed up the wood-carved hallway, past the kitchen to her front door, and began to open it, but stopped when she saw who it was.

“Good morning, Lady Karla,” Sasha said with a kind smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Karla remained silent, not sure she trusted herself to speak or to open the door completely. She just stared in disbelief at the woman’s presence. Sasha was a beautiful woman with wonderful features, but her thick brown hair stole most of the attention. It practically stood on end at its roots, but the weight of its length pulled it down somewhat. It appeared to have an almost unnatural volume and body to it, but her family had always had it, and they all wore it equally well. She held it back with a thick leather headband that had the symbol of Durado branded onto its center.

Soekka rolled his head on Karla’s shoulder to see who was talking. Sasha gave him a kind smile as well. “Hello, Soekka.” Karla turned her shoulder away so that she was between the two of them. Sasha gave an understanding nod.

Karla readied the blade in her sleeve behind the door, just in case she needed it. “What do you want?” Karla finally asked.

Sasha put her hands behind her back. “I was hoping I could speak with you.”

“I think it may still be too early for that,” Karla said sternly.

Sasha nodded. “I do understand, and I grant you my apologies, but I’m afraid that I may not have much longer to wait.”

Karla was about to say something, but then she noticed something move and a small head peered around Sasha’s leg. Karla hadn’t noticed him standing there before; she hadn’t taken her eyes off Sasha’s since her arrival.

Sasha gently urged the small boy forward. He was certainly her son. He already had a head of short, spiky brown hair that matched his family’s. The small boy was sucking on his fingers, curiously staring up at Karla.

“Say hello, Sprenger,” Sasha insisted, but the boy just started giggling instead.

Sprenger, Karla thought as she watched him. What a strange name.

“I know that you are angry,” Sasha said softly. Karla looked up from the small giggling child and back into Sasha’s eyes. “I know that you might even hate me, but I ask that you indulge me this conversation.”

Karla just stood silently for a time. She was mad, but she certainly didn’t hate Sasha. In fact, she had no personal qualms with her at all. Karla knew that she did what she had to do as a scythe, and she also knew that it was her nephew at whom her anger should be directed. Still, this woman was partially responsible for her family’s death, and that pain was fighting with the logic of the situation.

Finally, Karla stepped aside and silently ushered Sasha in. All of them headed to the kitchen where Karla placed Soekka on the wood floor by the table and offered a chair to Sasha, who thanked her with a smile and then led Sprenger to where Soekka was standing. The boy still had his fingers in his mouth and giggled again when Soekka looked at him.

The two boys stared at each other curiously. Then Soekka went over and grabbed his little wooden ball from the corner of the kitchen and came back and handed it to Sprenger. Sprenger giggled again and then sat down on the floor and waited for Soekka to do the same. When he did, Sprenger rolled him the ball which caused Soekka to giggle as well.

Karla watched with a warm smile as the two rolled the ball back and forth. She had not heard Soekka giggle in the few days that she’d had him, and the sound almost made her want to cry with joy.

Remembering her place, Karla wiped the emotions from her face and turned her attention to Sasha, who was waiting patiently in the seat across from her.

“So, what is this about?” Karla asked.

“Before I tell you what I came here for,” Sasha said, “I must beg your forgiveness and tell you how truly sorry I am for your loss.”

Karla could see the genuine compassion in her eyes, and knew that no matter how much she tried, she would not be able to hate this woman. Karla looked back at Soekka as she spoke. “My nephew shocked us all when he betrayed our village. Demaedura saw the darkness in him and fed it until it grew out of control.” She sighed. “You do not need my forgiveness, child. You did nothing wrong.” She turned back to Sasha. “I would not be a dura-scythe if I was mad at you for protecting our village. If anything, I should be apologizing to you.” That seemed to confuse Sasha. “I knew of my nephew’s lust for power, ever since he was young,” Karla clarified. “I should have done something about it myself long ago.”

Sasha looked down at her hands in her lap. “Our families have always been rivals, but I still considered Sortan my friend, and the same with Sullia. I foolishly thought that our families’ blood-quarrel would end with Sortan and I, but I was wrong. He refused to let his hate go in the end. None of us expected them to do what they did, and now I must grieve for my friends in private, knowing that they will be buried without the honor that they deserved for years before now.”

Karla felt the same. She was to watch the burial in the forest with Soekka tomorrow, but there would be no honor given, no headstone made, and no friends invited. It was the worst death a scythe could have- being buried with not even the gratitude of their village.

“If you would like,” Karla said almost hesitantly, “you may join me for their burial tomorrow.”

Sasha seemed to be at a loss for words for a moment but then gave Karla a thankful smile. “I would very much like that. Thank you.” The burial of an honorless scythe was not celebrated. It was a shallow grave beneath an unmarked tree. The family was brought along to say their goodbyes out of respect, but others were seldom told of it. It was meant to show that they were being forgotten from the village and stripped from people’s memories.

Karla nodded and straightened her posture again. “Now, back to the original reason for your visit.”

“Yes,” Sasha said, looking over at Sprenger and Soekka, who were still happily playing on the floor. “I’m sorry to say that the damage from Demaedura’s coup may not yet be finished in our village.”

“What do you mean?”

“Because of the damage that Sortan and his wife caused, the Council of Elders has begun to worry about Feral Beasts and their Nymphigori breaking the fragile peace treaty between the Great Villages. They are worried about what would happen if another of us went rogue.” Karla had worried about that, too. “Now, to make things worse, I’ve even heard that Juriah destroyed a small village in his pursuit of Demaedura.”

“What?” Karla whispered incredulously.

“It was a village of no more than thirty people,” Sasha clarified, “but apparently Demaedura has hidden there before. In his search for him, Juriah practically leveled the place. Now, the Greddo village is threatening us since the village was near their border.”

“Then it should be Juriah that answers to them,” Karla said sternly.

Sasha shook her head. “The Council sees it as proof that Nymphigori are the cause of warfare.” Her voice suddenly turned somber. “They are asking for the destruction of all Feral Beasts and their Nymphigori.” Karla’s mouth dropped slightly. “They are saying that any village that does not comply will be marked as an enemy of the newly peaceful nations.”

“But,” Karla began, not entirely sure what to say to that, “that’s madness. The majority of you have done nothing wrong.” She stopped. She was beginning to feel great pain for Sasha as she realized that this woman had just told her that she was about to die. “I’m sure Jacob will not allow this to happen,” Karla tried assuring her.

Sasha forced a smile through her fear. “He will have no choice. It will either be my and Kirra’s deaths or the return of war to this village.” She shook her head. “I will gladly die before I allow this village to return to war.”

“Oh child,” Karla whispered. “I’m so sorry. This is my family’s fault.”

“No,” Sasha protested softly, yet sternly. She reached out and placed her hand on Karla’s. “This was Demaedura’s fault and the fault of those of us that were close enough to him to see his malice. Your family is not to blame.”

Karla smiled weakly at her, and then realized something. “What of Juriah? He will be forced to die as well?”

Sasha pulled her hand back and placed it in her lap once again. “I’m sure they realize that Juriah will fight them until his last breath, even if it means war. Jacob and I are working to convince them to take Juriah's Feral Beast and leave it at that.”

“But do you think he will agree to even that?” Karla asked skeptically.

Sasha half-chuckled. “No.” She shook her head. “No, Juriah would never allow someone to hurt Konn, especially the Council of Elders that he hates so much.”

“So, then we are doomed,” Karla realized.

“Not necessarily,” Sasha said confidently. Karla should have realized that she had a plan. “There are three fully grown Pantrores in our village. I will arrange it so that Konn and Juriah are both left alive. The Council do not know our numbers, and I will tell them that the two Pantrores are the only two, that they are mine and Juriah's Feral Beasts. They will not know any different.”

“That seems risky,” Karla admitted, “but crafty. I’m sorry that such a fate may become of such a gifted scythe as yourself.”

“I will die as a gifted scythe should,” Sasha said confidently, “protecting my village.”

Karla admired her bravery. “So, I must ask,” she said. “Why are you telling me all this? I imagine that this should be kept as much a secret as possible.”

Sasha looked down at her hands in her lap. “Because I must call upon you for a favor that you do not owe me in the least. In fact, you should not do it if there is any reason in it all.” She looked back over at Sprenger and Soekka, who still continued to entertain themselves with the lone wooden ball. “Do you know why our families hated each other, Lady Karla?”

The question caught Karla off guard. Their families had been rivals for generations but Karla never paid it much attention, and Sasha seemed the same. Sortan, on the other hand, was just like his father, Karla’s brother. Every move that Jacob made was the wrong one, and every decision could have been made better if it was one of their family that was Scythrith. It was a pointless blood feud that Karla had to admit was mainly fueled by her father’s side.

“It was something about my grandfather and your great grandfather competing to become Scythrith long ago,” Karla answered. “My father always told the story, but I never paid it any mind.”

“Which is why I’m asking this favor of you,” Sasha said. “You are not a hateful person. You know the pointlessness of quarrelling families.” She shook her head. “Our village is becoming divided, Karla. The coup only made things worse. Scythe don’t trust one another anymore, and I fear that if war does start again, Durado will not be strong enough to survive. Our families have been fighting with one another for generations and me battling with Sortan and his wife only made people more divided.”

“You can’t blame yourself for our families’ feud,” Karla protested.

Sasha straightened sternly. “I don’t blame myself for it starting, but I do blame myself for allowing it to continue. My time in this village is running short, but I will not leave my son in the hate that his ancestors created. I want him to show this village that love and comradery are what makes a scythe-village strong.” She looked back at Sprenger and Soekka. “Look at them,” she said with a smile. “Look how little they know about their families’ problems. I don’t want my son to grow up with hate in his heart, and I don’t want Soekka to either.”

“Nor do I,” Karla agreed.

“Then I ask you this,” Sasha whispered, still watching Sprenger. “Will you raise him for me?” Karla almost flinched with surprise. She looked at Sasha, wide-eyed and silent. Sasha turned back to look at her. “Will you raise the child of your family’s rival? Will you show this village that hate can be overcome, and that strength can be found in love?”

Karla remained silent, not entirely sure what to do. “Sasha,” Karla sputtered.

“I don’t want Sprenger knowing anything about his family,” Sasha continued. “I want him to learn from you how to be a strong scythe, while you do the same with Soekka. Together, those two will prove that blood-ties mean nothing.” Her eyes were dead serious.

Karla was in shock. She didn’t know what to say. She looked from Sasha to Sprenger then back. What do I do?