Faint voices roused Felicia from her unnatural sleep. She opened her eyes, finding it difficult to register whether or not she was asleep or awake or much of anything for that matter. Her eyes saw only darkness, but the voices she’d been hearing soon grew in clarity as well as volume. She felt her heart begin to race as she soon realized it was horrified screaming she was hearing—soon followed by the heavy thud of a body. She went to cover her head, fearful that whatever was causing the man to scream would descend upon her as well. 

She released an exasperated yelp, realizing that hands were tied. No sooner had she started to panic than the rope grew taught and snapped—ripped off by some invisible force. 

“Get up,” an irritated voice demanded, “I've saved you. All is well. Come come, get up, grab your things. You need to get to the graveyard before their friends arrive.”

Felicia recognized this voice. She’d heard it early that morning. Was this the male counterpart to the woman’s voice she’d been hearing all those nights? She felt faint movement behind her and then heard shuffling. It must have been the masked man. Had he been captured, too?

“What’s going on?” she stammered, staggering to her feet. Her question was lost in all the chaos however. Someone somewhere was still screaming in pain and the sound of metal against wood as Jira retrieved his belongings at incredibly breakneck speed swamped her timid voice. Her eyes began to adjust and she spotted the table riddled with her own belongings just as the masked man disappeared up the stares—followed by Cain, unbeknownst to her. 

“H-hey!” she frowned, “W-wait!”

She quickly grabbed her things off the table. Sweeping the room, however, her eyes fell upon the injured man who was now groaning and beginning to lose consciousness. She bit her lip—not only was the man ‘in possession’ of her precious sword, but he also seemed to be in a great deal of pain… and at great risk of bleeding out. She glanced back to where the masked man had disappeared…. She knew where the graveyard was. She’d catch up. [i]I’ll make it quick,[/i] she promised herself. 

“Hold still,” she whispered to the man—who was pretty much out already. Setting her feet squarely on either side of the thief’s injured leg, she gripped the sword and yanked it out. Blood quickly started to rise out of the gaping hole left behind. She allowed her sword to clatter to the ground as she set to work, tearing a long strip of fabric from the man’s shirt. 

If what the voice said was true and his friends would be there soon, this ought to hold him over until they got there and gave him more aid. She tied the fabric tightly around his leg, wiping her blood covered hands off on a clean part of the man’s pant leg before returning her bloodied sword to its hilt. She ran up the stairs and burst out the side of the building just before the tricksy pot salesman was about to push it open. She crashed into his shoulder, turning on her heel as she spun in an effort to maintain her momentum. “Excuse m--!” she gasped reflexively, but she choked on her words.

For the briefest moment the pair locked eyes and recognition was painted onto both of their faces in varying degrees. His eyes shifted from confusion to fury whilst hers shifted from an apologetic wince to a surprised look of fright. “Bye!” she whispered-- an attempt at being cocky and daring gone horribly wrong in the face of immanent danger. She ran full throttle into the crowd, ducking and diving between, over, and around members of the crowd until she was almost at the well. Catching her breath, she looked around for the masked man, but, not knowing he’d gone the other way out of shame, she saw no one. He couldn’t have made it to the graveyard already, could he? 

Felicia lingered there, sweeping her eyes over the crowd for either the masked man or the angry pot salesman. She somehow doubted he could have followed her. Even if he could, he was likely in the middle of finding out how she’d escaped—thus he’d be quite preoccupied with the mess in the basement caused by…. She blinked. Just who had done that anyway? If it wasn’t the masked salesman… then who? The voice? She frowned and her forehead creased with concern. 

How could a voice possibly do so much damage?