The village looked different when I walked through it early the next morning.
It seemed like a long time had passed since I was last here, when in reality, it was only a single night.
It wasn't fear that made the difference. Not anymore. People no longer flinched when they saw me. They moved aside, yes. They kept their voices down, yes. But there was a steadiness to it now. A recognition.
I was a stranger, but I wasn't strange. They knew I wouldn't hurt them unless they gave me reason to.
I dropped my head, trying to hide my smile. They hadn't even seen me at my worst, and they were still nervous around me.
I hummed a song under my breath as I swung my basket back and forth. It was already half-full—coarse salt, dried beans, three fresh duck eggs wrapped in straw, and a small spool of good cloth that would be the start of my next outfit. I really needed something that wasn't previously worn by the dead, but beggars couldn't be choosers.
I had traded a pair of rabbits that Shadow killed for the stuff so far, but I was running out of things to trade, and I still had a lot to buy. Maybe I could convince Shadow to bring me two rabbits, still alive, and I could raise them for food and furs.
It was killing me not to be more self-sufficient, but everyone had to start prepping from the bottom. I was just used to always having access to Papa's pantry when I needed something I didn't have.
I could feel the eyes of the butcher stabbing into my back. I had a very pleasant conversation with him as he weighed out the pig's fat, and we had come to an agreement. Let's just say that he wasn't going to shortchange me again.
The chickens would have to wait until I left. They'd follow me home on their own now. Dumb creatures. Loyal, though, I had to respect that.
I stepped into the blacksmith's shadow just as he came out of his forge, a towel slung around his neck and sweat beading on his brow. The hiss of iron cooling drifted from the open doors behind him.
"Zhao Xiuying," he grunted, his voice a pleasant growl. I looked up at the man before realizing that the Village Chief, Zhou Cunzhang, had a second job as a blacksmith. "What can I make you?"
"Nothing," I said with a soft smile. Glancing past him to the racks of raw metal, I couldn't help by vibrate with excitement. "I just need scrap metal," I started, my eyes going wide as the metal sang to me, demanding my attention. "Anything will do…steel if you have it, copper if you don't."
He grunted, motioned toward a box near the forge. "It's yours."
"I'll leave you something in trade."
He waved me off. "No need. You keep us safer than steel. If you need help making it into something, I'd be happy to help you."
I tilted my head. "Still," I said, my brows furrowing in confusion. The man reminded me of Papa a lot, and I was having a hard time not putting the two of them together. "I don't want to take advantage."
He paused, then chuckled low. "There is no way you are taking advantage of me. That boy you saved last night was my nephew. The family can't thank you enough for what you did. We are in your debt. Forget the scraps, you could have me forge anything. A blade. A horseshoe. Even armor. Just say the word."
I met his eyes, knowing that my own were sparking. "So can I," I chuckled, holding out my hand. The scraps of metal flew over to me like an overly excited puppy, dropping into my hand and turning to a liquid state without me even asking.
Zhou Cunzhang's smile faltered as his eyes went wide. He continued to stare at me as I listened to the metal, forging it into what it wanted to be more than anything.
Arrowheads.
There were over 150 of them, designed to a more modern standard than the traditional triangle shape.
"I assume you can handle the shafts?" I smiled up at him. "The hunters will probably find it easier with these heads than the ones that they are used to."
"You created these for us?" he gasped, his trembling hand reaching out to the arrowhead. He barely touched it when his finger split open and blood came pouring out.
A flick of my wrist, and the wound was closed up without even a single mark to show where it had been.
"We can't accept it," said Zhou Cunzhang. "They are too precious."
"They were made from your scraps," I countered. "Besides, we are neighbours, after a sort. I help you, and you help me when I need it. Deal?" I smiled, holding out my small hand. He looked at it like he had no idea what to do with it.
Ever so tentatively, he stuck out his own hand, and I shook it. "Just keep me in mind if you have any more scraps."
-----
Zhou Cunzhang took me around his smithery, and when I was crouched beside a different box of scraps, I heard a set of footsteps.
They were soft, slow, hesitant.
I turned without rising, studying the woman approaching from behind.
"Meilin," said Zhou Cunzhang softly, like he was scared to speak too loud in case he sent her running. "Is everything okay? Is there anything that I can do?"
The woman was younger than she looked. Her skin was too pale under the bruises, her lips cracked from chewing them, but the split at the corner of her mouth wasn't from chewing. Her hands trembled as she clutched a wrapped bundle to her chest. Inside, a child's head poked out from the top of the bundle, her eyes closed as she seemed to struggle to breathe.
She didn't meet my eyes.
"Please," she whispered, the single word seeming to take a lot out of her. "I—I'm sure that you don't take requests. But I saw you."
My fingers stilled in the pile of metal, but I didn't move. She looked helpless, but I've seen killers putting on the same act.
Sucking in a shaky breath, she continued. "I saw you save that child. The one burned in the fire. I saw the mist. I saw him healed. I need you to save mine."
Zhou Cunzhang froze from his spot beside me, but I could feel him tensing up like he was ready to throw down.
Ever so slowly, I rose to my feet.
"What's wrong with him?" I asked, my head cocked to the side. Even with how tiny the woman was, I only came up to her chest.
"His leg." Her voice broke as she looked down at him. "My husband—he... he kicked her. I tried to stop him. I did. But he was angry and he doesn't like the fact that she was born a girl and—"
"Where's your husband now?"
"Gone to the woods. Hunting." Her voice cracked. "He'll be back tonight."
I nodded once.
She looked up then. Her face was a mess—eyes swollen, lip split, a bruise shaped like a hand blooming down her neck.
"I can fix the child," I said calmly. "That's easy."
She swallowed and shook her head. "That's not what I'm asking."
I remained silent, forcing her to come to a decision. I wasn't going to make this easy on her.
She crouched down, the child still in her arms, as she looked me in the eyes. Desperation bled through every word. "I can't do it anymore," she announced, completely resigned to what was coming next. "I can't protect her. If I try, he'll kill us both. But if I die, my sweet, sweet girl will be next. Please. Just take her. Hide her. Make sure she grows up safe."
I said nothing, simply looked at her.
Her fingers whitened as she clenched the blanket. "I'm not asking for me. Just her."
I stared down at the child, wrapped in a patchy old blanket. Her breathing was shallow, but steady. The leg was clearly broken, the bone causing an open wound that allowed blood to soak into the cloth.
I rested my hand on the girl's shin and let a thin wisp of white mist slip from my fingers. The woman gasped as it sank into the cloth, and the girl stirred, her eyelids fluttering.
"She'll sleep until morning," I murmured. "When she wakes, the pain will be gone."
She fell to her knees. "Thank you."
"I didn't say yes," I reminded her, my face impassive.
Her head shot up.
"I'm not taking her," I continued. "Tough it out for one more day. If tomorrow isn't better, then we can try another alternative."
Tears welled in her eyes as all hope fled from her body.
"Is one day really going to be the end of the world?" I sneered, spinning around. Picking up my basket, I left the arrowheads on Zhou Cunzhang's work counter before leaving the village.
Hattie warned me that when you help someone just one time, everyone else will expect the same treatment.
But I was no one's babysitter.