“You’re still here,” I said to the machine when I saw it for the second time. It was imposing, sure, but I knew it, I knew what it was, and it didn’t hold any real mystery for me anymore. I didn’t need to fear a thing like that. It had already done its damage to me. “Just checking in, old buddy.” And when the mist began to flow from it, when the orb began to spin, and I stepped back in memory of when I used to be scared: “Yeah, I remember you too, bastard.”

-The memories of Karla Enok

The old watchtower

loudly from the dust. The cat on her bed let out a hiss of protest at the loud noise of Kamila returning the book to its place, and Kamila sighed in response. She walked over to the bed and reached out toward the cat, who rubbed its forehead against her palm. She scratched its ears and smiled down at it. “You got a name?” she said.

The cat, being a cat, did not tell Kamila its name.

“Yeah, I thought as much. I’ll call you Chaika. I feel like someone I used to know had a cat named Chaika. A long time ago…”

Outside, the sun was beginning to set. It was about time Kamila got some practice with her new blade. Wallshaker – that was a good name. with her hand resting on the hilt, she made her way to the door and outside.

In front of her lone-standing tower there was a quiet field of flowers, still bright in the face of the approaching cold. Kamila knew that soon they would wilt like the others, their bright color would be obscured by frost and then would fade into the earth again, not to emerge for many days. But still she deftly avoided tramping on any of them, careful to treat the plant-life with respect while she prepared to draw her sword.

The forms were long-practiced and smooth. Though Kamila’s body was unfamiliar with the movements, and stiff, and she felt her joints crack from the exertion as she set her feet just so and her knees just so and readied her off hand for the blade’s hilt… Her mind was sharp and she knew what to do. She shifted into place perfectly and let her scabbard ring out like the opening note of a song as she drew the blade forth. Wallshaker hummed in her hands when she settled into the neutral stance. Right foot up. Twist right, pass blade right. Flat parallel to ground, point forward. Thrust: straighten arm, twist left, lunge with right foot forward, let left leg straighten behind. Strike like a viper. Recover: bend right elbow and grab hilt with both hands, sword up in block position, left knee bent ready to brace.

The theatrical artist in her wished to turn on her heel, a pirouette into a strike, but the warrior knew better. Instead Kamila took a wide step forward, swinging diagonally from the upper right to lower left of her frame of target. The heft of the sword already felt natural as she wove through the form. Down-strike, step, sway back. Thrust-up, step, block. Down-strike, step, sway back. Thrust-up, step, block. She was a cat stalking her prey, cornered, staring it down while she approached. It would search for an opening and, desperate, it would take the first chance it got, but it would not be enough. Side-thrust, twist, pin the enemy to the nearest post or wall. Twist the arm and pull the wrist back while tilted up so that the sword would come out easier, would slide past any bone more cleanly. Swing the sword away from yourself to remove the gore, then raise it to block again and turn to the next one.

The sky grew darker and the air colder and still Kamila stepped through her forms, joyous in her dancer-like grace. She leapt and thrust and swiped about the field through form after form, until she had exhausted a tenth of all the forms she knew and came to a stop, breathing heavily. The body caught up with the mind and she fell on the ground, wiping the sweat from her brow so it wouldn’t run into her eyes and wishing she’d brought a jug of water out into the field with her.

After a time, she stood up, thinking to go to the market for a drink.

An insect, passing by, alighted on the back of her neck and bit her. It drank deep, for about half a second.

Kamila caught it in her hand, crushed it. Without so much as a scream of pain, without even the rudimentary memory of an unsentient thing dispersing into Kamila’s mind, the tiny creature fell to the ground and disappeared among the blades of grass.

She scowled in the direction of the marketplace and went back inside.