A day earlier, before Petyr was taken captive by Avesta, Mora had been given a piece of paper by Nik and instructed to deliver it to one of his men.

  Mora go do this, Mora go do that.

  Did they not realize at this point how annoying they were?

  Mora rolled her eyes as she scrambled up the hill, angry that she went ahead with doing anything at all. I shouldn’t have to take orders.

  Nik was lucky. Mora was in a good mood because she was feeling relieved: she had expected that so-called pirate Lares Reed to kill her on the way back to town.

  When she finally entered the wheatfield that led the way to the orchard, Mora slid a hand into her pocket and took out the note Nik had given her.

  He told me I can read it if I want to.

  And it was no surprise as to why, since the thing was completely blank.

  As she stood there in the middle of the wheatfield, a dash of red in a golden-brown world, she raised the piece of paper up to the sun hoping that direct light might reveal cleverly hidden ink.

  To her disappointment and annoyance, it remained blank. Come on!

  Mora knew she should’ve delivered it quickly as told. But another part of her very much wanted to see what it said.

  Sure, knowing what was written on it wouldn’t do her any good. In fact, it might actually lead to a good deal of trouble.

  But then, wasn’t finding trouble exactly what she was an expert in?

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  As she scrutinized the paper, holding it between her small red fingers, a sudden gust of wind blew it out of her hand.

  “Hey!” she cried out over her shoulder, yelling at the workings of the cosmos as another kid might at an annoying adult.

  Her dark eyes darted across the ground, looking for where it might’ve gone. Where is it?!

  When Mora lifted her gaze she finally spotted it, moving on the wind and away from her, almost like a flying carpet. “Get back here!”

  She sprinted after the paper, her small red body needling effortlessly through the tall stalks of wheat. “I said get back here!”

  Mora stopped short when she came across a series of stalks eeriely flattened against the ground.

  Below her, at her feet, she could see a female shape.

  At first glance, she could tell that the woman was naked, likely sunbathing, so Mora instinctively turned her gaze away. “I’m so sorry…”

  But who sunbathed in the middle of a wheatfield?

  Hearing no sound, Mora’s eyes slowly came back. Strands of her ear-length dark locks were in her face again, getting in her eyes, but this time she didn’t feel like moving them away.

  Something told her she did not fully want to witness whatever was there.

  She began with the feet, which she noticed weren’t moving. “Can you hear me?…” she said, quietly, knowing no one likely would.

  Her eyes then moved upwards up the corpse—she could feel now that was what it was—up the bare waist, the naked chest, up to the face which was both familiar and unfamiliar.

  Jayne?…

  The sight was surreal.

  Jayne lay there, resting on her back, her eyes open, not looking dead in the slightest—but completely still.

  It hadn’t been that long since Mora saw her last. Just the evening before.

  Jayne had been there when Mora hit Petyr with that stone, ruining their date, and watched her storm off.

  How could she be dead?

  For a moment, her childlike innocence combined with her natural intelligence to tell her that, maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t dead.

  Maybe this was some strange custom she hadn’t heard about. Or some sex thing…

  Looking away, Mora reached out with her foot and gently nudged the leg. Though she knew Jayne by name, it made her oddly scared to say it now. “Are you awake?”

  There was no response.

  Not that Mora would’ve needed it.

  In that instant her warm red toes connected with that dead white flesh, she knew.

  Dead.

  There was no doubt about it.

  The paper forgotten, Nik’s orders forgotten, Mora began to back away…

  Dead…

  She turned and ran back as fast as she could.