Indigo could breathe again. It used to remind her that everything would be okay. Where there was breath, there was hope. Now, it was a curse, reminding her of what she would have to endure for the rest of her life.

After the breath, she could feel the breeze and the warmth of the sun. Then, her ears took in the rustling around her. Trees dancing in the wind. Grass whispering. She swallowed because there was something warm filling her mouth. It was blood. She writhed for a second, mixing the metallic taste with her air and coughed, her body tossing itself over. Blood splattered onto the grass beneath her and she held herself up, squinting at the brightness of the world. Her elbows were bleeding and her knees were in immense pain. She looked to her right and her eyes scanned their way up the steep hill that she had tumbled down.

She was surprised the fall hadn't killed her, especially with her body smacking against all the trees on the way down. Slowly, she adjusted herself and sat up, leaning her arms against her knees. The men who were chasing her could be heard high up the hill, carefully making their way down. Indigo figured she had given them a good run, but now it was over, sitting beneath an oak tree, bleeding from the mouth and knees. Running was no longer an option.

She would have to embrace the pain – and they would have to face the consequences.

Indigo picked at the damp blood stains on her shirt from the cut she had received from Bent's blade. She watched the three men jog down the hill, avoiding slips, one of them tumbling a bit, making her laugh. Indigo remembered to laugh in the face of fear. She still got scared, no matter how she carried herself. And at this point, death was no longer a fear, it was just a painful inconvenience. Most things were. Just like J'son used to say.

Eventually, her pursuers reached the bottom, resting a moment, Bent standing tall and strong, noticing Indigo slumped over in exhaustion. She noticed them but was also preoccupied by the butterflies mating before her. They were both a light blue, twirling around each other. Her eyes were tired but kept track. They reminded her of J'son and Kila, loving amidst chaos, oblivious to the futility of their dance.

"We figured you died from that fall," Bent said, his voice cutting through her daydream. His beefy leg stepped forward, blocking her gaze. Still, she stared ahead. More blood had built up in her mouth. She must've had a damaged tooth. She swirled the fluid around and spat it out onto his pant leg.

She grinned up at him with bloody teeth. "Not that easy to kill. You're too dense to understand that though."

The veins popping at his temples signaled his annoyance. But he just smiled back and knelt down. He was dressed in dark armor just like the other two men, who Indigo didn't know. Bent, on the other hand, she knew quite well. He was a bounty hunter, infamous for his gnarly ways of catching his prey. He held a small band of mercenaries that aided him in his hunt. The man's face was big, a crooked, damaged nose sticking out which granted him the nickname. He hated the title. But Indigo would never refer to him how he'd wish. His hair was sheared clean off, and he gave her a mean grin.

Looking back was Indigo, perhaps easier to look at to some, but certainly not to most. Her calm, youthful face was eaten by scars. Three streaking across her lips, four ripping through her cheeks and one that crawled down her face through her right eye, a red line that showed itself right through her iris as it finished its journey to the bottom of her right cheekbone. Her hair was dark, chopped off at the shoulders and was often a mess. Her eyes were iced over with blue, giving all before her a first impression of indifference.

"Well," he said, "Looks like it's the end of the line." He feigned disappointment. "Oh. What's the matter? No demonic hellfire to come eat me alive? No poison searing me away from within? Where's all the evil I was promised?" He looked over to his companions and they all laughed. Indigo laughed with him. This man didn't believe the rumors. Indigo was a wanted woman. A blasphemer. A heretic. She was called many names. It was told that she's never lost a battle and kills all she encounters, often with supernatural means. The rumors, unfortunately for them, are correct. But many men were ignorant and too reliant on the protection of the Gods. They had no idea what they were getting into. Soon enough, the world would know that the rumors were truer than anyone had imagined.

Bent snapped a look back at her, a frozen smile on his face as Indigo chuckled, having to stop herself, grabbing hold of the wound in her side, the spasms hurting her.

"Oh, I'm glad you find it funny, too," he said.

Indigo wiped her mouth. "It's a little funny," she said. "I can't wait to see the look on your face turn into panic."

He raised his eyebrow and leaned in close to her, their noses nearly touching. "And why would that happen?" he asked quietly.

She coughed in his face.

Indigo forced a laugh out before he kicked her in the chest and she toppled over, losing air completely. He leaned over and lifted her by the shirt, standing to full height.

"I don't think you understand your situation, girl," he grunted, "You know who I am? I don't give a damn if they want you dead or alive. I do what I want with my prey and I bring them back however I want. And I don't listen to fairy tales. You're flesh and bone just like the rest of us."

His men laughed.

"However," he said, pulling her close. "I do have some honor. I always allow my prey to ask me one favor. If it seems reasonable, and they've given me a good challenge, I'll usually grant it. You've given me a good chase. You're not very honorable in your fighting. But, of course, ask away. We'll see how I feel." He over-exaggerated himself trying to hear her response.

Indigo mumbled something but the breath had still vanished into the pressure in her chest.

Bent lowered her and she wobbly stayed on her feet.

"I'm sorry, love, I didn't quite catch that." He put his hand to his ear.

"Kill me," she managed to say.

He looked back to his men. Shrugged. Laughed. Then removed a dagger from his belt.

"I don't see why not," he grinned.

He grabbed her by the hair, yanking her forward, then sliced the cold metal across her neck. Gods, it was unbearable. In an instant, all potential air was no longer accessible and her eyes bulged in panic. She gripped helplessly and pointlessly at her gushing throat. Bent shoved her and the impact on the ground left her spinning.

Squirming, struggling to breathe even though she knew it was useless, Indigo did her best to accept the inevitable. But there was no helping it. No one was ready to die slowly, no matter how much they prepared themselves up for it. They would still cling on desperately to life despite the inevitability of it all. She should have known this by now.

The blood warmed her cold body for a moment, but then, she couldn't feel anything. Everything around her blurred and she tried to ignore the laughing of the men, focusing on the sounds of nature. The trees sounded so peaceful. The breeze didn't chill her but left a consistent pressure upon her body, like a massage. She tilted her head slightly and saw the butterflies had dispersed. They weren't meant for each other.

There was no more pain. No need to breathe.

The next moment was familiar. It was like going to sleep, where the interval between wakefulness and dreaming were invisible to the mind. So, it was for Indigo. Just as quickly as she died, she just as quickly came back to the world, covered in blood, gasping for breath. Hot breath. Lungs still filled with blood. She vomited it all up, the horrified sounds of the mercenaries filling the air with her heaves.

She slowly sat up, turned her sleeve red from cleaning her chin and smiled, watching Bent gripping at his neck stumbling about. Blood poured out from a long cut that had opened up in his neck. His eyes were full of fear, staring at her with sudden realization. The rumors about her were true after all. And she did enjoy the look on his face.

His two companions reeled back and watched him with horror yelping like frightened children. Bent reached for them, stumbled, caught himself on the ground. He gave Indigo one more veiny look, tears filling his eyes. And he, too, slowly gurgled to his demise, dropping slowly to the Earth. Only difference was – Bent didn't get back up again.

The two other men then quickly turned to look at Indigo with wide eyes. They all stared at one another for a moment before Indigo got to her feet, running a finger along the new thin scar across her neck for them to see. The wound had completely closed. The two men drew their swords and gasped.

One of the men stammered, not saying anything.

"I-It's true, then," the other one said, his face pale. "Gods, it's true!"

They weakly threatened her with the ends of their blades. Indigo walked toward them, heart racing.

"Go ahead," she said. Her entire front was wet with blood. It was all she could taste. Instead of giving into the resounding ache in her throat from residual death she tensed herself and gave into the pain. She gave them a crazed grin and she lunged forward.

"Kill me," she shouted, pushing her shoulder into one of the men's swords which pierced her about an inch. The man gasped and pulled it away. "See what happens to you."

These men were clearly mulling it over in their minds. Perhaps it was a trick of some kind, they probably thought. This couldn't possibly be what the stories surrounding her meant. This power wasn't something humans could possess. But eventually, they proved to be sensible men, giving into the truth.

"Okay," said one of them, slowly sheathing his sword, "Okay, we'll go. We'll go." They continued to back away from her, the second man putting away his own weapon.

"Tell everyone you meet!" Indigo shouted after them. "Tell everyone what you witnessed today!!"

Indigo watched them go until they disappeared behind the distant trees. This was the first time anyone who attacked her had gotten away alive and seen the supernatural at work. What this meant for the future, she couldn't say. The Church already knew of what she could do. The tales of her abilities were dampened as to not cause widespread panic of a demon in the midst of humans. But now, it was likely everyone would know the full truth. Indigo made her way over to the oak tree, resting against its trunk, taking in all the air she could, desperately, greedily. She filled her belly up with air again and again, taking in big gulps, eyes closed, relishing in the simple act. It felt so good to breathe.

You can breathe now, she told herself, You're alive... There's air... You're safe. Deep down she knew the horror this truly meant. But for right now, every time she returned to life, it felt good to pretend that meant everything would be okay again.

The stench of blood was more acute now. She ran a finger along the scar that now rested on her neck, tasting the air that entered her lungs. Death by asphyxiation. Her first time. She moved her finger to tenderly touch the gnarled scar beneath her left breast, that time her heart was pierced by metal. The scar just below the back of her skull, when she felt her brain turn to mush from impact. The scar that ran down her eye when she bled out slowly and alone. Scar after scar, Indigo recalled all the different deaths, who she was with, who she was without. Indigo counted. Remembered.

Indigo Scout had now died a total of eleven times. If she wasn't used to it by now, no one would be. With these survivors, maybe now, she could stop being interrupted by death and could stop being lured by the false hope that everything might end for good.

She went through Bent's pockets, taking his fat pouch of money and two of his daggers. She rested for a moment longer before continuing on her way to kill the High-Priest. Strangely, she felt a sense of power. She was a walking, talking, living, breathing weapon that could not be matched. It felt good. She grinned and headed down the path through the woods, full of excitement and sadness. Full of rage and despair.