Page 81 of Spoils of war
“I don’t know.” The words hurt coming out. “I don’t think there is an answer…” I trailed off.
His breath came out sharp, like it burned. “And yet they did.”
I nodded, slowly.
Maybe there was never a reason. I’d been carrying the guilt like it belonged to me. Carving myself open with it. Convinced that if I had just been stronger, faster, better, none of it would have happened. That I could have stopped it. Saved them. Saved me. But the truth settled in, quiet and awful. I could not let Will carry that weight too.
“Maybe evil doesn’t need a reason,” I said.
And for the first time… I think I believed it. Maybe not for me. Not all the way. But for him, I needed it to be true. Because if it was, then it wasn’t his fault. And maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t mine either.
We kept walking. The path curved toward the town center, and suddenly we were somewhere else entirely. We’d crossed a line and stepped into someone else’s life. Someone else’s world.
Laughter spilled through the streets. Kids ran barefoot over the cobblestones, shouting and chasing each other. A woman laughed so loud it startled me. The air was thick with the smell of bread, honey, and fresh-cut fruit. Will’s gaze drifted to the kids by the fountain. His face didn’t change, but I knew what he was thinking. I was thinking it too.
“Remember when life was that simple?” I asked, my voice quiet.
He gave a small shrug, but the ache in his eyes said everything.
“Maybe one day it’ll feel that way again.”
We found a shop tucked at the edge of the square. The wooden sign above the door swayed gently in the breeze, creaking like it had done so for years.
Inside, the air was warm, laced with dried herbs and something sweeter, jam, maybe. Or candied fruit. Golden light pooled from a row of mismatched oil lamps along the walls. Their flames flickered, casting a soft haze across the room. Shelves sagged under bolts of fabric and jars of pickled vegetables. Baskets overflowed with apples and late-season pears. Every corner felt carefully tended, like someone still believed in beauty. Muted tones surrounded us, earthy browns, sun-faded reds, sky-washed blues.
A man behind the counter lifted a hand in greeting.
“Welcome, my friends,” he said warmly. “What can I help you with?”
Will stepped ahead, his voice low and steady.
“We’re looking for shoes.”
By the counter, a small wooden table held hand-carved animals, beaded bracelets, tiny woven baskets. I drifted toward it and let my fingers brush the edge of a wooden fox. Smooth and warm. Like it had been touched a hundred times before. I found a cloak, a blue one, like the sky just before dusk. Like a summer lake. Like Will’s eyes. I reached for it before I could stop myself. The fabric was soft and cool against my skin.
Will came up beside me.
“That’s lovely.” He nodded toward the cloak, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You should try it on.”
So I did.
At the back of the shop, an old mirror leaned against the wall, edges tarnished, glass warped and speckled with age. I stepped in front of it and almost didn’t recognize the girl staring back.
But she looked... alive.
Just for a moment, I didn’t see the bruises or the dirt. Not the hollowed-out eyes or the blood that had once soaked through my clothes. Just a girl in a blue cloak, her hair falling in loose, golden waves around her shoulders.
Next to the mirror sat a pair of black boots. Sturdy. Real. I crouched and slid them on, fingers clumsy on the laces, but I got it done. They hugged my ankles like they belonged there.
Across the room, Will was slipping into a battered brown jacket, the stitching frayed at the shoulders. He tugged on a pair of worn boots, then grabbed a thick-strapped pack and slung it into place.
“Ready?” he asked.
I gave a small nod. The cloak swayed as I straightened. It didn’t change anything, not really. But it helped. Just a little.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m ready.”
We picked up food for the road, too. Dried meat, wrinkled fruit, a jar of something sweet I didn’t bother to name. It didn’t matter.Nothing tasted right anyway. When we stepped outside, sunlight hit my face. I closed my eyes and let it soak in.
