You slide the bag across the table, and the hooded figure opposite you peers inside. “Where the hell did you get this?!” He quickly looks up at you with an expression of pure disbelief. “How?” He says, lips parted, eyes wide as he searches you, scanning down your face, neck, and arms as if you should bear some sort of mark for having this in your possession.

Not seeming to find what he searches for, he leans back in his seat, silent. You watch as he scratches his unkept beard. Rubbing along his rounded jaw, his mind clearly aflame with thought. He looks briefly at the bar, and his expression changes quickly, the slightest upward tick now forming at the edge of his lips.

*So it is expensive.* You think. You return his smirk and when he begins to chuckle, you mirror him with satisfaction. *The payout will be huge.* You can see it now.

Though it strikes you odd when he doesn’t seem to stop, in fact he’s now laughing harder, and you noticed two gruff-looking men at the bar reflecting this man’s amusement. He now clutches his chest and wipes a tear with his other hand as laughter overtakes him. A growing sense of unease builds within, and you can’t help it when you begin fumbling awkwardly with the fabric of your sleeves. You're realising that this isn’t going the way you thought it would.

“You feel the need to explain what’s so funny here. You want this thing or not?” You say this with the remaining reserves of your confidence. Pulling the bag back across the table, you fold the flap over and fasten it closed. *I’m going to kill Kira for sending me to this guy.* Swinging the strap over your shoulder, you stand to leave. “I’ve had enough of this.” You spit, turning away.

When he abruptly slams his open palm on the wooden table in response, you snap your attention back towards him. A look of disgust plastered across your face. You can feel the immediate eyes of everyone in the bar. Not a soul dares to speak a word as the silence lingers in the room. Only the clank of mugs can be heard from menials serving behind the bar. Though a quick glance around tells you they themselves didn’t dare stop working. Their eyes quickly averting your gaze as they continue their duties. *Shit, who is this guy?*

Suddenly he’s standing, stepping in front of you, addressing the patrons scattered across the bar. “This baby thief thinks she can pull one over on me!" He laughs again, shoving you back down into your seat, and this time the entirety of the room joins in. Heat rises in your cheeks, and you're angry at the embarrassment of it all.

The moment he settles back down at the table, the room returns to its usual banter. The two men seated at the bar seem to have also resumed their conversation.

“Tell me that thing in your pack isn’t what I think it is.” He now scans the room like he was scanning you moments ago. “Tell me you aren’t as stupid as you look.” His demeanour has changed, and his focus is aimed at you once more. Though this time he’s leaning in towards you, his voice strategically low, so those with curious ears won’t hear your conversation. His face, you note, now holds a seriousness that wasn’t there before.

“I’m not so new that I’d make the mistake of bringing a fake to a deal.” You huff in irritation. *Let’s see him call me baby thief one more time.* Though your conscience can’t help but remind you of your lack of knowledge on the subject of your current wares. *What the fuck is this thing?*

“Have you shown this to anyone else?” His tone now toeing the line between threat and... was that fear?

“You are the first.” *Well, Kira has seen it. But he doesn’t need to know that.* You cross your arms so that your hand rests on the hilt of your dagger sheathed at your side. Ready for any sudden attempt at taking what isn’t his... yet.

He looks at your hand, then shakes his head with a huff of pity for added insult. “So stupid it is. Best chance you’ve got is to ditch that thing. Ditch it before it’s too late, or you’ll end up in one.” He leans back in his seat again, mumbling a word foreign to you. A reaction you weren’t particularly prepared for. “Take it or leave it, baby thief.” He looks you over again before turning away to wave down a man who walks around the room carrying a pitcher. “Now get the fuck out of my bar.” He waves you off. “Or I’ll put you and that in that ditch myself.”

* * *

Kira isn’t home when you arrive later that evening. Her doors and windows are locked tight as usual, and being that she’s still your friend, even after this morning, you decided not to break her window. Instead, you swing around back to take up a spot in her stables.

Closing your eyes, you fall back onto the blanket you’ve hastily tossed over a pile of hay. You can’t help but replay the last few hours over in your head. That man, Nolan—as Kira had called him—was an obnoxious joke.

“Best dirty tradesmen in town, my ass.” You huff, picking a sprig of hay from your hair. But those eyes, the way he looked at you after seeing what you had in your bag, almost as if he was... impressed. Though you know he shouldn’t be.

Then there was the way he warned you to get rid of it; he clearly knows something you don’t. Restless, you sit up, bending the sprig of hay around your index finger as you look around the stables. They haven’t been cleaned yet today, and it smells.

“What could possibly have a man like that fearful?” Pulling the bag to your lap, you flip the fastener open and lift the flap. “What is it about this thing?” You pull it from the bag and roll the oval-shaped rock between your hands. Peering closely at the intricate patterns of its natural form. Nothing about it screams value. In fact, unless you look at it closely, it’s really rather unassuming.

There’s a familiar grunt from the back of the stables, and you look up to see an expectant Elway. His lips, groping the air, clearly wanting you to extend a helping hand.

“Ah!” You point to the hay you sit on. “You want some of this?” He snorts, tossing his head as his lips go wild at the fact that you’ve caught on. Tossing a heaping pile over the stall door, you realise that Kira won’t be far if her horse is still here. You give Elway a good pat as he busyes himself with your offering. Then you stuff the rock back into your bag and head towards the house.

Shaking your head, you try to forget how humiliating this morning has been. “All this for a rock.” You mutter as you ascend a grassy hill. “Kira’s in for an ear full.” Your foot snags on a rock, and you stumble forward a bit. Moving up the steep hill now on all fours. “Last favor I do for her.” You push yourself up as the hill begins to level out, and you stand at the top, stairing out at Kira.

“Where have you been?” You demand as Kira turns from her wagon to see you striding over. Her gaze drops from yours to the weighted bag at your side, and her eyes widen in fear.

“He didn’t take it?” She’s hurrying now, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you around to the back entrance before slamming the door closed behind you. “Tell me what happened.”

You watch as she hurriedly leaves your side, now filling a bag with things from her kitchen. And you're starting to feel the prickles of fear creep into your skin.

“You gave him a fake name like I told you, right?” She’s asking questions but has yet to stop. Moving now to an adjacent room, where you hear her opening drawers. In a blink, she emerges with what looks like another sack, this one filled with her clothes.

“What did you get me into?” You realise now how utterly naïve you’ve been. Stupid it is; that’s what he said, and you're starting to feel that and much more. Nausea grips your stomach as you watch your friend pack what she can from a house she’s lived in her whole life.

“STOP! Fucking look at me, Kira!” For the first time, Kira stops moving, and at the sight of your face, her expression softens. Dropping her sack, she crumbles into a heap on the floor. Head bowed towards you, hands held over her suddenly weeping eyes.

“I’m so sorry!” She wails, back heaving as she sobs, face down in absolute repentance towards you. “Please forgive me.” She utters, “You are my friend, and I will never forgive myself for bringing you into this.”

Looking down at her, you see something you didn’t notice before. A white-looking scar that trails down the side of her neck, and you recall the way Nolan inspected your exposed skin, like he was looking for something.

“What is this thing?” You pull the rock from the bag and hold it between your hands, and look up to see fresh tears streaming down her face. “Kira!?” Sitting up, she wipes at her puffy eyelids. Eyes bloodshot, but not recently so.

“I don’t know for certain. But someone is looking for it. Someone who, I now know, is willing to do anything to get it.” She’s sitting back on her heels, holding the string to her sack with a tight fist. “The only person who knew I had it went missing yesterday.”

*So she needed to get rid of it. Which explains my hasty meeting this morning.* You sigh, “Why send me?” You're holding back anger, but it’s building, mingling with your nausea, and threatening to emerge one way or another.

“I was going to go myself, I promise you that. But my buyer skipped town. And Nolan wouldn’t give me the time of day.”

*She used me...* They're swirling now, nausea and anger, gripping the pit in your stomach like poison leaching into its victim. Your mind lingers on the words bubbling to the surface, one's too final to say aloud, and the breakfast fast behind.

“I didn’t think anyone would know what it was; it would just blend in with the other goods you had for trade, and no one would know any better.” She brushes a strand of hair out of her puffy face. Eyes wondering as she recalls her thoughts, her voice echoing the numbness that's now muffling her regret. “You would use a fake name; I’d hope mine was never mentioned, and it would all be over. But…”

“But he did know what it was.” You guess.

Her eyes widen at your statement, but still she finishes her sentence. “… my name was mentioned. They’ll be coming for me, and that missing person was found dead this morning.”

Words fail you, and you rush from the room, throwing back the door and lunging to empty your stomach in the tall grass outside. Kira is fast behind, quickly grabbing hold of your hair.

“No,” you cough out, breathing in an acrid smell that lingers in your nose. You spit the residuals from your mouth and stand, stuffing the rock back inside your bag. With the back of your sleeve, you wipe away what remains on your lips as you look at the awaiting wagon. “…they’ll be coming for us.”