“What is this?” Louis had wandered of to meet up with me later. I had wandered into a desolate village except for one person. I knew them too. They didn’t know me. At least that’s what it looked like.

“Just one bigger telling another where to find the bread,” he walked past me, his should bumping Mine.

“I know you, how.” I slipped a dagger from my sleeve and stood there, my face peering behind my shoulder.

“I told you, I don’t know. Just one beg—“ I cut him off my slamming myself into his stomach. I pressed my blade to his throat. Blood began to slowly trickle from his neck.

“Marlo,” he croaked.

“Fresco,” I dug the knife into his throat and ran off.

His last word was my name. I grinned and walked off.