Kinn Yaraway walked the road at dusk, axe slung across his back, every step pointed toward the stronghold his blood had built and lost. He had measured this journey in years, not miles. A few more pieces, and the old man at the end of the road would never see him coming. Then he saw the bones. They sat heaped in the dirt, wet and red, pierced through with bright-fletched arrows like a signpost. The bounty hunter from the last town had passed this way. She was marking her trail. She wanted him to know. Kinn left the road. He found a stone cottage swallowed in moss, its shutters split, its door hanging crooked. He slipped inside and waited in the dark. Hooves came soon after, slow and careful. A shadow moved past the broken window — a winged shape, scaled and wolfish, sniffing the air for him. Her tracker. The beast turned toward the doorway. Kinn stepped out behind it and buried the axe before it could cry out. He dragged the body inside, wiped the blade, and pulled the hunter's own cloak from its saddle. By morning he walked the road again, wearing her colors, one piece closer — and one enemy now certain he was dead.

The red silk coat sat heavy on Kinn's shoulders by midday. Gold thread snaked across the sleeves in hunting knots. The lining was torn, the weave full of pine needles and dried blood. He pulled the hood low and kept walking. The hunter was dead, but her silence would not stay quiet for long. He smelled the smoke before he saw the rider. A small fire burned at a crossroads, and a curl of paper was nailed to a post above it. Kinn slid behind a tree and watched. A courier stood by the flames, comparing a worn poster to a carved dark wood chest at his feet. The poster showed a bearded face under a wide hat — not Kinn's. A name was scrawled below it in fresh ink. The hunter's name. Whoever hired her was already asking where she had gone. Kinn stepped out wearing her coat. He kept his head down and his voice rough. The courier turned, saw the red silk, and relaxed for half a breath. That was enough. The axe came off Kinn's back and the man dropped without a sound. Kinn dragged him into the brush and crouched by the chest. Inside lay sealed orders, a purse, and a second poster — blank, waiting for a face. "You're not her." The voice was quiet behind him. Kinn turned slow, axe low. A woman in dark and gold armor stood at the tree line, a pale blade held easy at her side. Long black hair. Tired eyes. Ravenna Blackthorne studied the coat, then the body, then him. "I tracked him three days," she said. "He was carrying something I need. I don't know what you are. That's the honest answer." Kinn measured the distance between them. She measured it back. Then she lowered the blade an inch. "Take the coat off and burn it. They'll send more, and the next one will know her shoulders weren't that wide." She crouched by the chest and lifted the sealed orders. "Walk with me until the crossroads. After that, we never met." Kinn nodded once. The coat came off his shoulders and into the fire. The silk curled black, the gold knots melting, and one more piece fell into place.