Page 4 of A Soul to Touch

To her left, which was also the back of the house, was a sort of seating area. There were two bags filled with sheep wool; thankfully, they were light and easy to move around. One of them was on the floor as she often sat in it, while the other rested in an unused armchair made from leather and wood.

The last seat was a rocking chair, and she eyed it, knowing it was her mother’s favourite before she passed away.

She sighed, turning her eyes away from the rocking chair with longing before they fell back onto the fireplace. It was made completely from brick, and above the mantle were various Demon-warding ornaments they’d discovered over the centuries – whether they actually worked, she wasn’t sure.

Her father’s personal sword rested above it like a reminder and warning.

Lastly, between the fireplace and the door to the right, was a full-length mirror that ran from floor to ceiling with a coat rack next to it. The mirror was there so they could check their outfits before they left the house. If one didn’t like looking at their own reflection, it would be difficult to avoid doing so because of its placement.

It often reflected Mayumi’s bored and tired expression.

Despite the lack of furniture, leaning against or nailed to every wall was personal décor collected by her family over the centuries. An old painting of a meadow and river drawn with black ink on a cream canvas. An ornate lantern that had never been used because it was too precious. A picture a child had painted above the kitchen counter.

There was a flower ribbon Mayumi had made nailed to the back of the front door, which was a rainbow because every petal was a different colour.

There were so many memories collected here. If anyone came here and found it vacant, she was sure it would be heart-aching. Too often in her life, Mayumi had walked into a stranger’s hometo find it stained in blood but with evidence of a mostly humble and happy home.

Sometimes those memories lingered, and she turned away from her darkening thoughts to concentrate on her task.

I can’t change the past.

Once she was done cleaning herself, Mayumi dressed in tight brown leather breeches, hooking the button clasps at her right hip. Then she donned an undershirt before placing a thick grey cotton tunic over her torso. Lastly, she threw on a white wolf pelt jacket – something that was invaluable as only hunters could obtain a pelt of such a colour.

Mayumi stepped in front of the full-length mirror situated permanently against the wall. It had a few aged spots but otherwise was mostly clear – except for the frosted top right corner.

Her gaze barely registered her frowzy appearance. It didn’t linger on her brown eyes that appeared black in shadows but shone nearly tawny in the light. It also didn’t linger on her small, pointed chin, her ears, or her cupid lips. Her body was hidden by the thick jacket, making it easy to mistake her slender body frame – which was deceptive to her strength.

What she really cared to look upon was her thick,waist-length black hair. After debating on whether or not to brush the tangled mess that looked more like a bird’s nest than hair, she realised she didn’t give a damn. She just threw it up in her usual high-pony tail so it wouldn’t obscure her vision.

She poked her finger through the bars of her messenger pigeon’s cage to scratch the back of his neck. He cooed delightfully in response.

Before she left her house, she wrapped her sword belt around her waist, checking to make sure her dagger was secure as well. Then she slung her quiver and bow across her back.

Mayumi had spent many afternoons hand-making her arrows. The arrowheads were forged from steel by the small, rudimentary smithing station she had at the back of her home. The feathers were odd colours as she used any bird she managed to shoot down for her fletching feathers.

Dressed for the weather and the dangers that could be lurking, she opened the door to step onto the wooden porch. The porch area spanned two sides of her cottage, wrapping around the front and right side from the front door’s entrance.

She leaned down and shook her leather and fur boots of any snow that may have collected inside them overnight before shoving them on her feet. There were many other shoes on the rack next to the front door, from working boots to slip-on flats.

Now that she was ready in what she wore most days, she walked along each corner of the porch to check theomamori. Her ancestors believed the omamori protected them from the Demons and bad spirits. Dating back centuries before they became stuck in this part of the world after the Demons came to Earth, her family had continued the tradition of hanging them up.

Alongside them were wooden charm plates given to her by the Priests and Priestesses from the closest town. These didn’t create any sort of barrier but were apparently more of a deterrent.

Her home had never been entered by Demons, and that’s all she truly gave a shit about.

Doesn’t look like I’ll need to obtain new plates anytime soon,she thought as she roughly grabbed at them.

Mayumi then reached up to touch the brocade silk bag of the omamori that had some kind of wood inside of it – no one knew what kind as it was customary to never open them. They were old and so frayed that she made sure she touched them gingerly.These will not last too much longer.

They had a few years left before the threaded silk rope holding them snapped. She believed they worked, but she also knew that could be false hope as they hadn’t been blessed for hundreds of years.

Sometimes it was just easier to believe.

She cupped her hands together, bowed her head, and prayed to them that her ancestors would continue to look over her. Then she stepped back while lowering her hands, giving them a small glare.

They better be watching over me. I’m the last one left.At least on her father’s side.

She had no idea about her mother’s origins as her mother hadn’t either. Her family had been killed by Demons when she was young, leaving her orphaned.

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