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Turning Point

  It was night when Petyr left the house under the pretext of taking an evening walk.

  The stars shone brightly up above, and he knew it was possible he might be seeing them for the last time. After all, he had promised Avesta that he’d get his father to her for questioning.

  Though he may not have been the best father in the world, Petyr had reservations about putting Gregory through whatever Avesta envisioned, and he wasn’t even sure he knew that much. In fact, Gregory’s panicked responses earlier made him feel that his father knew little of what was truly going on beyond what was strictly necessary.

  As he went beyond the safety of the house, he could feel the chill night wind nip at his skin. His soft brown locks were raised by the occasional gust that also puffed up his loose and thin shirt.

  Why am I doing any of this? he wondered.

  He followed the road towards town, knowing that Avesta had likely been keeping an eye on the house, and very much expected her to pop out of the treeline to question him about what he was doing and where he was going.

  Maybe she’ll even try to cut me again.

  This time, though, he planned on fighting back if it came to that. Petyr had left home aware that it might come to conflict between them—which was why he hadn’t left empty-handed.

  Tucked at his waist was one of the kitchen knives from home. In his boots, a slender blade he could take out in a worst case scenario.

  To top it all, he had a small pouch of irritant powder. Gregory had given it to him way back when they first moved to Windust, to use it on the kids that populated the fields and roads in case they considered bullying him.

  It had never come to that, thankfully, but his father had been clear about its effects: one good blow of the powder in someone’s face was going to make them gag and cough uncontrollably for long enough to leave an opportunity for escape.

  Some might have called it an elegant solution to conflict.

  Others might’ve seen it as a coward’s weapon.

  Petyr only saw it as a necessary tool in case Avesta disappointment at his actions led to her getting too handsy again.

  A noise came from the trees.

  Several, in fact.

  An eerie rustle of leaves.

  A sudden, sharp crack—a twig shattering.

  Another muffled rustle, as if someone—or something—shifted in the underbrush.

  Petyr expected Avesta to emerge at any moment ready to deliver a death blow, and his hand instinctively reached under his shirt, thumb moving across the wooden handle of the knife belted there.

  Two figures emerged from the darkness.

  Not Avesta.

  Mora….

  … and what he took to be the pirate he had heard so much about.

  Mora stopped short upon seeing him, looking genuinely surprised. “Petyr?”

  “You were out in the forest?” he shot back. At first he too was just surprised to see them; but now he genuinely had to wonder what they were doing out here.

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  Why would Mora and this big dumb ape next to her be wandering in the one place no one normally went to, which just happened to be where Avesta hid?

  Mora came next to him, head bobbing. “We…”

  She stopped, then looked back over her shoulder at the pirate, as if to ask for his permission.

  Before he could give a sign one way or the other, her head snapped back into place, as if she’d suddenly remembered that being defiant and doing only what she wanted was a core part of her personality. “We were looking for someone. And we found a camp. You won’t believe it, but I think there’s a guy living out there. Not just that, but Vares says they might be Soverni.”

  They found her camp, Petyr thought, his heart racing. Part of him was worried. Were they planning on hunting Avesta? Why else were they searching the forest for signs of life? And how did they get to know she was there in the first place?

  On the other hand, hadn’t he himself been harmed by her? Didn’t she sound completely insane when she spoke of coming all the way to Windust because of some conspiracy to undermine her father, the supposed ruler of the Soverni Republic?

  Yeah…

  Maybe it was for the best if someone else took care of her.

  And yet…

  “You haven’t encountered strangers of late, have you, my boy?” It was the pirate who spoke, his tone surprisingly friendly.

  Petyr’s eyes swiveled towards him calmly, revealing nothing. Though he had become quite good at maintaining his composure, he had to admit that the aspect of the man before him was far from friendly and more than a little intimidating, no matter his tone.

  This “Vares” towered over them both and he appeared formidable enough physically to take on just about anyone Petyr could think of. Not only that, but he had the same uncomfortable glowy red color to his eyes as Anders.

  It was hard to say which of the two he wanted to be least in the presence of.

  “I don’t go into the forest,” Petyr said evenly, avoiding the question.

  Vares smiled at him, not without suspicion. “Aha.”

  “You were on the ship that Mora and I watched get destroyed.” It may not have been the best thing to bring up, but it might’ve been good enough to change the focus of the conversation.

  Vares shrugged as if it were nothing. “So I was.”

  It was an underwhelming reaction for one who was supposedly caught in such an event. “Aha.”

  Vares caught the mockery and tilted his head, a lopsided grin taking over his face in a fiendish way. “What is it, my young friend? You would doubt my honesty?”

  Petyr smirked back, trying to hold it together. “Never.” Truth be told, he just wanted to be gone.

  Mora interrupted them by grabbing Petyr’s arm. “You should go home. After what happened to Jayne, it’s safer to stay inside. Maybe this is the person who killed her.”

  Right. Jayne.

  Only now did it occur to him that he hadn’t gotten a chance to inform Mora who actually killed Jayne. The watchful gaze of Vares’ red eyes, though, made him question if it was really the right moment to do so.

  Maybe he and Anders were friends. One red-eyed psycho to another.

  It was a good way out. “You’re right,” he said. “I should head back.”

  “I’ll come see you tomorrow morning.”

  Vares stood there, unmoving, unblinking, gaze following Petyr with disturbing attentiveness as he began to move away.

  Creep, thought Petyr. Why was Mora with him?

  What did they want from Avesta, really?

  Mora stood in the middle of the road next to Vares watching Petyr’s slender frame disappear into the distance.

  You better not let anything happen to you, she wished she’d said.

  Death was not a thing she liked to linger on, but she was finding it difficult not to think back to the lifeless body she’d found the night before. During the day, it had been easy enough not to think of Jayne, but now…

  “At least now we have a good way to find whoever is out there,” Vares remarked.

  Mora barely registered the comment at first. Then her gaze snapped up to him. “What?” spat, half-annoyed at the implication of her best friend into any of this.

  “Your Petyr will lead us to them. He outed himself with the way he reacted.”

  Had he?… She hadn’t sensed that, and she couldn’t imagine Petyr being involved with anyone camping out in the forest—an uncomfortable place like that was the last one he’d want to be in.

  Besides, that would mean he was keeping stuff from her. Why would he do that after what they'd seen together? Petyr was just freaked out...

  “I didn’t feel that way at all."

  “Because you are a cute little oni who is far too innocent. Pretty Petyr changed the topic far too quickly. Nor did he seem at all curious or concerned. Very strange, no?”

  Mora rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Don't call me cute. And Petyr’s more concerned with how his eyebrows look than anything around him. His house could be burning down and he’d still take time to prance about before a mirror first.”

  Vares sighed ruefully. “I do not think you know your pretty friend as well as you think you do, little oni.”

  Mora did not like the look on Vares’ face or the way his gaze held the horizon that Petyr dipped below of. “You leave him alone,” she growled.

  Vares giggled, darkly amused by the threat. She barely reached his waist. “We shall see.”

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