Kid paced nervously outside the door Grim disappeared into. Around him, the Thorne soldiers were in formation, blocking the road in every direction. It felt as if he were fenced in, trapped. He could feel eyes on him from the surrounding houses. Guilt and grief waged war inside him, both striving to make him more miserable. He wanted nothing more than an arrow to come flying down the street and end him where he stood. Then, in the next moment, he wanted nothing less.

He didn’t want to die not having said he was sorry. Divines, he sounded like his mother and just as insane. Kid grinned. If he didn’t, he would have cried. And doing that surrounded by men he now had to live with was unthinkable. Kid kept pacing, the quiet of the streets weighing down on him. The Outwalls were never this quiet. Something was happening out there, and everyone knew what it was except him.

He cursed beneath his breath. Lissa. The blood on her lips. What did she think of him? The thought killed him inside. He thought he might vomit, then he did. Kid gagged then choked it back down. The Earl told him not to show fear, to avoid weakness. He would learn. Kid spat on the hard-packed dirt. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t face an angered man without soiling himself. Shame joined the inner conflict.

Kid stopped pacing. He couldn’t just wait here. He might not be able to fix being a coward or what was broken inside him but there was one thing he could try to mend. His eyes lighted on a missing board in one of the neighboring houses. The space was too thin for a man to fit through but might be just big enough for him. Kid didn’t hesitate, he walked to the gap and slid through. The adjacent boards scraped his chest and back but managed to push his way through the narrow gap. So intent were they on watching the streets, Kid doubted the soldiers noticed he was gone.

The hovel looked long abandoned, containing only a broken rain barrel and shattered glass. Kid made sure he stepped around the glass as he walked to the door on the opposite side. He opened the latch and cracked the door open, peeking through. The alley beyond was empty. Kid creeped through the door then walked to the far end of the narrow path that connected to a larger road.

He peeked around the corner of the last house and leapt back into the alley, hoping they hadn’t taken much notice of him. There had to be a hundred Sons marching down the road. They wore their masks and the gleam of steel was evident in their hands. Kid slunk back down the alley, racing to the other side. He peeked around that corner and the road was empty.

He ran down the road, praying another company of Sons wasn’t about to turn the corner. He made it three alleys down the road before a quiet creaking sound sent him diving into the closest alley. A twang followed, and an arrow punched through the wood behind where he had just been standing. Kid stared wide eyed at the impact site a moment before jumping to his feet and getting ready to run out the other side of the alley. He hesitated. The huge group of Sons he’d seen was in that direction.

He looked at the walls on either side of him, looking for a way out. His eyes alighted on a hole dug beneath one of the homes. It looked like a dog had once burrowed beneath the wall. Kid bit his lip. It’d be a tight fit, but he might be small enough. He fell to the ground in front of the hole and burrowed his way through. He got his arms to the other side and clawed at the ground, pulling himself through the tight space. As his face entered the building, the stench of rot assaulted him.

Rotted meat hung from the gnawed bones of what was once a small boy. Of the animal that had done the deed, there was no sign. Kid kicked his feet against the dirt, forcing his way the last few inches through the hole and into the shack. He kept his breath as steady and quiet as possible as he crept to the door. It opened to the street he had been shot from. The rays of light shining through the cracks darkened as a man-sized shape raced by. Kid waited a second. There was only one. He cracked the door open and slipped onto the street.

The man was facing away from him, getting ready to pry the arrow from the wall. “Bastard didn’t tell me I’d have to chase the fucking boy through the city,” he grumbled.

Kid’s first instinct was to run, then he looked at the dagger on his hip. The man would only keep following him. This might be his only chance. He drew the blade and creeped forward. His mark was only a few paces away.

The arrow snapped as it came out of the wall. The Son cursed and threw the broken shaft onto the ground. As he did, Kid charged the last few steps and leapt at the man, fighting the urge to scream. He caught onto the man’s shoulder with one arm and with the other, pushed the dagger into the meat of his neck.

Blood came out in a rush over his hands. The man let out a scream that finished as a wheeze as he fell to his knees. Kid withdrew the dagger and rammed it in again.

The Son fought to turn around, weakly waving his arms but the strength was sapped from his limbs as blood rushed from his throat. Kid was able to easily overpower him, forcing him to the ground until he stopped twitching.

A pool of blood spread around where Kid knelt, hugging the corpse, dagger still lodged in the man’s neck. Kid released a shaky breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob. He pulled himself from the corpse, wrenching the dagger out of its throat. The feel of steel grating over bone made him shudder. Kid looked down at his black and red garb as he rose to his feet, beginning to appreciate the practicality of Thorne colors. He wiped the dagger across the back of the man’s cloak, feeling the links of mail beneath it. If he had aimed anywhere else, he’d likely be the one dead. Kid shuddered.

He turned from corpse and walked from the alley as calmly as his shaking body would allow. Adrenaline still pumped through his veins as he walked the twisting roads. He didn’t see any more Sons on his path and sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Reaper for sparing him.

The prayer caught in his throat as he stopped outside Melna’s door. His hand shook as he raised it to the wood, drops of blood running down his wrist. Even more than when he faced the Son moments ago, he wanted to run. He lowered his hand. Maybe it would have been better if that arrow had gone through his throat. Perhaps a clean death was better than his mess of a life. Kid began to turn from the door as it opened.

Lissa stood inside the frame, the warm glow of firelight radiating behind her from the hearth. She held a pair of buckets. They fell to the ground as her eyes met his. Kid’s eyes immediately drifted to the cut on her lip. He had to force his feet to stay in place.

She looked him up in down, noting the blood lathering his hands and clothes. “Kid, are you okay?”

He swallowed and nodded. “Not my blood,” he managed.

The corners of her lips creased downward. She reached out and took him by his bloody hand. Her flesh stuck to the blood on his skin. “I’m sorry, he whispered. I didn’t mean-”

She cut him off. “I know. It’s okay. You were upset.”

Kid looked to his feet, feeling ill. It was very close to what he had told his mother the first time. He told her what she said. “It won’t happen again.”

Lissa hugged him and he held her. When he released her, she looked down at his black garb. “Did you join the army?”

Kid forced a smile to his lips. “Something like that. I’m going to be staying at the castle from now on.”

Her eyes drifted to his hand as a drop of blood fell to the dirt. “That’s probably for the best. Will I be able to see you there?”

Kid shook his head. “I don’t think so. They don’t let people inside who don’t have official business.” Lissa frowned. He bit his lip. “But if you wanted, I could meet you in the city at the foot of the cliffs?”

The frown disappeared. “That would be perfect.”

“Sunday at nightfall?”

She smiled. “Yes.” Her arms wrapped around him again. “Don’t run from me again.

“I won’t run,” Kid said. “I’m not afraid,” he lied.