Lights flickered as Grusha gently awoke from her sleep, her senses absorbed all of the data at once. A short sniff revealed smoke, multiple fires were lit. Muscles tensed as she tried to make sense from this information. She could taste the presence of humans surrounding her, but it was faint as if she were in some sort of enclosure. Sight was blurred, and hearing was slightly impaired, she could feel her body hard at work to repair those organs.

A door creaked, she shot straight up. Aiming her head at the source of the sound, she tried to squint at what was there. It was a burly man stepping inside quietly, he stopped in his tracks when he noticed her staring at him. She could not tell what, but he appeared to be reaching for something as he stepped closer. Alarmed pounced out of the sheets on top of this intruder.

Her instincts softened. There was nothing but confusion in her mind. This man offered no resistance to her aggression, and he felt light like a feather. If this were another hunter, he was grossly ill-equipped to handle her. Clarity was brought back to her sight, the body sufficiently fixed her eyes to see better. She was not staring down on a hunter, this was someone entirely else.

A native of the far north she assumed, basing such assumptions off of his skin and facial complexions. Promising spry youth detailed his facial features, no a wrinkle to offer on his well formed body. Warm amber eyes showed a weakness that almost felt like a strength she could draw from, she felt like diving into. Silver hair made him seem wiser than what his youthful complexion offered, the contrasts of maturity and youth molded together made him seem charming.

Grusha did not know what to do. He was not her mission, but he surely must know who she is. She lifted her fists and growled, threatening him to do something so as to offer herself an excuse for whatever happens, but he remained still and unfazed. A teapot started to whistle from a furnace in the room.

This was the first time she actually looked around at where she was, it was not a sort of confinement she expected to be in. It was, in a word, cozy. Behind her was the bed she jumped out of, several animal hides were on it from moose and bears. To her side a chair was knocked over, apparently that was what her captor reached for. The teapot was whistling loudly where the fireplace burned in the far end of the room, its crackling flames providing the area with warmth.

Her quarry rustled beneath her, this prompted a reaction from her. There was no aggression in his part, he slid her off him smoothly. Normally she would have killed him without hesitation, but she was experiencing doubt. Something she had not felt for a long time. The calm demeanor and unfazed attitude was not something she had expected, only one had ever treated like another person. The silver-haired man pulled the kettle out of the fire and rested it on a small table, and flipping over a wooden cup, he poured the hot water into the container.

“I thought you might be a tea person, or that at least you would not hate it. Safer bet than preparing coffee.” He said casually.

Grusha was at a loss for words, her eyes trailed to the ground. Silence.

The wooden cup was offered to her, but she ignored it. There was no need to accept another person’s pity. She sniffed a couple of times. No. Pity was not what drove him to offer empathy, there was something to it. What it was, her senses could not distinguish it. He further pressured the cup up her face by swirling it in front of it, this prompted an annoyed reaction. Hand slicing through the air, she swatted the drink far away from her.

He stared at the knocked down cup. “My apologies, I only wished to give you refreshments. You’ve been knocked out for well over a week.”

There was no need for him to tell her that, she already knew. The internal clock was fine tuned to perfection, she could be out cold for years and still know how much time had passed down to the millisecond. Not that he would have known, nor would she share that information. It would only mean doom for him and his people. The amber gaze rested on her, she could feel the burn of those eyes piercing her.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” He offered.

Silence.

“Any family or friends whom I can contact? I am sure someone is looking for you.”

That much was true, there were people looking for her. They were anything but friends or family, acquaintances at best, but more likely than not are mortal enemies.The head-platter ones are the most recent additions to her lengthy list. Again, she was not going to divulge this information with someone as mortal as he, not even if he were a fellow demi.

“Do you know how to speak? I know you said some things in English.”

She thought momentarily, deciding this was information free to give. “Yes.”

“I see.” He said. “How about your name, can I know at least that.”

Silence. This too was information that was mortal to know.

“Do I need to give you more time to rest?”

She stood and crawled back into the sheets on the bed, speaking louder with actions than words.

His voice trailed off as he stood up, followed by the creak of the door. “I understand. Call if there is anything we can do to help.” The clapped as it closed.

Whispers, hushing and excited chatter outside, she could hear the conversation despite them walking several meters further away. Every word was crisp and clear.

Curiosity was the main talk. “What’s her name? Who is she? Where did she come from?” The usual thing anybody would want to know.

His gentle voice hushed them all kindly. “Let her rest. Be kind when she comes out, don’t overwhelm her. She is very tired and we should respect her privacy.”There were disappointed moans, but silent agreement.

They tasted sincere for Grusha. This was all new to her, someone who was not afraid of her. Bitter thoughts boiled up, ideas of how they would abandon her as soon as they discovered her true nature. Her hair strands started to tighten, forming long quivers from her emotions running wild. Nothing but destruction was what she wanted to do. The mission was what the most important thing to do, it was her calling, her purpose of existence. She was good at destroying, and nothing brought her more satisfaction than destroying the things that ruined her very being. All she wanted was to go back home.

Home.

Something she had never given much consideration before, now that she gave it some thought, the enclave she resided in before never truly was a home. It was no different than commuting from work, if she were to identify it as something. It was then she realized she was not wearing her usual garments. She was dressed in furs that were admittedly cozy, the furry sheets and fireplace made the space feel homely. Even though the term ‘homely’ was foreign to her, this was what she felt like that it should be.

Hours went by, morning became midday, midday to afternoon, afternoon to early evening. Food was offered during midday and evening, but she refused to acknowledge their presence in the room and their hospitality. The next morning they did the same, and repeated for midday. Evening was different, however.

A knock on the door. “I heard we have a stubborn guest this evening.”

Silence.

“I see. How about this. You owe me,” She tensed angrily when he said that, “so the least you could do is eat what we offer. If it is not to your liking, we could accommodate your tastes making something much more appetizing. But you’ll have to show us what you like, so get out and make what you like.”

Her hair quivered once again, tensing tightly from the anger. There was a life-debt and he claimed that life-debt, there was only one thing she would do to those who claimed that debt from her. Ripping a long quill of her head, she held it like a long dagger. She could not believe how careless she had become to let herself stoop so low as now, before there were standards she abided by and they were successfully upheld.

Stepping out of the bed for the first time in two days, she crawled to the door on her three limbs. Slowly opening the door, she eyed menacingly up to her patron. In a blindingly swift strike, she struck the ground next to his feet. Stabbing the slab of meat on a plate that was left at the doorstep, she crawled creepily backwards and slithered back into the bed. There was deep breath exhaled from outside, she could hear his blood pumping loudly.

Good. You’ll rue the day for ever claiming that life-debt.

A mischievous smile grew, evil ideas of torment riddled her every thought.