Today I decided to stay away from others, it’s for their good. So that’s what I did, I gathered my daggers and lined my belt, careful not to tear the worn holsters. I hate today, and that says something for me— I’m typically a cup-half-full kind of girl. Today marks 5 years since Jack disappeared. It’s been five years since I’ve seen my best friend, the only person in this world who knows me and _still_ likes me.

Jack and I were orphans together; that’s how we met. I was helping in the kitchen, passing out the plates to the other kids, when Ms. Folley led him through the dining hall and towards the sleeping quarters. Later that night, I tracked him down during supper and questioned him firmly.

“So what’s your name, kid? Tell me, who are you?” I wore a poker face no one could read.

“I’m Jack, and I’m the reason your story just got interesting.” A smirk crossed his face. He paused for just a moment, then sent a sharp wink my way before biting into his crisp apple.

Typically, after greeting the new children that way, I was avoided like the plague by the other kids, but not by Jack. He answered all my questions, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. He did so with a smile on his face and the same enthusiasm I displayed. After that, we were best friends. No one could split us up.

When we eventually aged out of our orphanage, we joined the assassins guild, not for glory but for survival. Together, we learned how to protect ourselves, how to live off the bare minimum, and to trust no one. Growing up poor and as orphans, most of this was easy and stuff we already knew. This is probably why Master Sebastian took a liking to us so much and took the time to hone our practice. We were unstoppable together, an undefeated duo that could have made millions in the number of jobs we could pick up. That is, of course, until Jack disappeared in the night.

I spent six months traveling throughout the country looking for him. I spent time in the desert, mountains, and even local islands. After interrogating every known assassin and master, there was still no sign of him. No one knew who he was, let alone where he was. Reluctantly, I returned to the assassin guild, but I vowed never to give up.

No matter how much time went by, I still felt the hole in my chest, the missing piece to me. I have my blades, my title, and I have earned my place at the guild. But without Jack by my side, none of this is real. I feel hollow, especially today. I yearn for my friend— my brother.

I decided to head down to the river; the icy waters always seem to pull me back to reality. I brushed through the trees, the silence swallowing every sound my footsteps made. As I grew near to the rapid stream, the hair on my neck stood up. My hand flew to my dagger, steadily hovering it, ready to defend. I survey my surroundings, my eyes trailing high and low. When I decided there was no threat, I chalked it up to today; my nerves had gotten the best of me. The ground is cold and wet. As I sit on the bank to take off my shoes, my hand grazes over the moss— It’s soft and fluffy, and there’s an earthy scent that coats the shore. My toes curl as they hit the frigid water, sending chills throughout my body.

For the past week, I have been a menace, and not in my typical sarcastic way but with cold eyes and sharp words. Snarling at children walking the street, feuding with the ladies at the market over their prices, even though they were fair, I have been what they call _unapproachable. _And so what? I’ve worked hard, protecting my customers, tying up loose ends to _their _problems; these are the same people who walk our streets. I took care of them. They could suck it up and ignore my issues; I deserve some time to myself.

So I lay here, feet in the flowing water, head laid on a pillow of moss. I watch the clouds pass by and remember the memories I still hold dear. Summers playing in this very field, winters in bed sick together, while Ms. Folley fed us soup with a fire roaring behind her. Tears form and pile in the corners of my eyes, in an instant, they break their tension and roll down my cheek. I miss those days— I miss him.

A rustle in the bushes triggered me to sit upright. Within a breath, I am on my feet. My hand hovers over my daggers, preparing for whatever danger may be lurking. The wind blows, and I watch as the branches dance to its rhythm. I swirled around, a reaction to another crinkle coming from the bush behind, and this time, I had my daggers drawn. Still, no culprit came forward. I crept forward, carefully taking each step to avoid the twigs on the forest floor. Approaching the bushes, I plant my feet firmly on the forest floor, establishing my balance. Just as I leaned in to expose what hid behind the foliage, out popped a raccoon. Although it was utterly repulsive, beady eyes and matted fur, there was no actual threat. Laughing low, releasing the tension, I shake my head in defeat.

“Come on, Samantha, pull it—“ I drop to the ground while a dagger flies above my head, landing in the tree in front of me.

Within a moment, I rush back to my feet, stooping low yet ready for the threat in front of me. A figure stood ahead of me, head hanging low, two daggers laid in each hand. The person standing in front of me was tall and muscular. A dark hood swooped down over their face, blocking any features that would help me put a name to them. They stood tall despite their bowed head, their feet planted firmly on the ground.

“Who are you?” Rage shaking my body, I pull out another dagger, matching his stance.

He steps forward, but I do not flinch. This is my forest, my river. This is my home, and whoever the fuck this is is about to figure that out.

“I’m the reason your story just got interesting.” Another dagger went flying, and I ducked out of the way, but not before the sharp blade glided across my ear, leaving behind a trickling flow of blood.

Ready to defend, cocking my arm back, knife in hand, I look up to see my target, and I stop. My bones went rigid, frozen in space, looking at the face that stood before me.

He was taller and more muscular, yet he still wore his rounded cheeks with pride. His shaggy, unkept gold hair peeked out from under his hood, and his grey eyes stared back at me. Unlike mine, this did not show any sign of excitement. They were stone, unreadable.

“Jack,” my voice shook, and my arms dropped.

Five years, five years I’ve been looking for him. For five years, I have _grieved _him. But here he stood. Alive. Strong. _Alive. _

Taking advantage of my disbelief. Running like a fox, he swooped around me, kicking his feet beneath my legs. Instantly, they gave out, and I toppled to the floor. He sat on top of me, his large legs straddling my hips. I don’t fight back. Blood pools behind my head from he split skin on my ear. It stings, but not nearly as much as the sting of relief. I stare into his eyes, and he’s here. This is real. _Alive._

“You’re alive,” I state plainly.

He gives off a smirk, his thumb caressing the side of my jaw. The warmth of relief filled my body. It’s something I never thought I would feel again.

.

“I’m sorry, Sam.” In a single movement, he pulls out another dagger from his waist belt. Within a moment, my relief is taken from me.

“I trust you,” escapes my mouth while he points the knife to my throat. The wind blows, and for a second, you can see his eyes waver, his hand shakes— and then it’s gone.

“That was always your most deadly flaw.”

Just then, the blade pushes past my skin, and my blood runs freely.