Two young women wandered through the dense forests of ancient Greece. Katizi, no older than twenty-two, had short black hair, pale skin, and dark eyes beneath a deep green cloak. Molava, tall, broad-shouldered, with curly red hair and a masculine presence. They walked close together, voices low.
"She has no freedom. That's the real problem with her."
said Molava.
"Miera reacts to everything around her. Don't tell me you're expecting manners from someone like that. You're the last person to talk."
replied Katizi.
"Oh? And you're the princess of Fondeur now?"
Molava shot back.
"I'm just saying—she's probably gone off to hunt. Far, far away."
Katizi answered.
"Next time, I'm going with her."
"There's no need. She knows what she's doing. It's not the first time she disappears for a while."
Katizi reassured.
"We're not talking hours. It's been days."Molava insisted.
"We have to trust her. One day, she'll find her path. And she'll follow it."Katizi replied.
"It's not Miera I'm worried about. It's the people she hasn't met yet."Molava muttered.
"You're underestimating her. What scares you is the thought she might never come back."
"You're right. But what scares me more is not being able to make you see the truth. That old woman… she's one of them. A witch. She twists people."Molava confessed.
"Don't speak about Ekatulia like that. You hate her because of who she is. You don't understand."Katizi warned.
"No—I do. One day, they'll burn the both of you. Together."Molava said coldly.
"Then worry about Miera. And keep out of what doesn't concern you."Katizi snapped.
They kept walking in silence after that.They reached a bend in the forest where the trees parted near the road. A royal carriage passed, flanked by armed guards. The two women waited in the shadows. Then a man came stumbling down the hill with a dagger raised, eyes burning. He lunged at the carriage.
A guard caught him with a blade. Another kicked him hard in the chest. The man crumpled to the dirt, bleeding. The guards moved in to finish him—until a call came from the road. The entire unit turned and sprinted after the carriage, protecting whoever rode inside.The women stepped closer. One of them knelt beside the wounded attacker and tilted her head with a sly smile.
"Help me lift him."said Katizi.
"I don't trust him."Molava replied, but helped anyway.
Together, they dragged him into the woods.
Later, the man lay unconscious inside a moss-covered hut, wounds being cleaned by an old woman. The two women stood apart, voices sharp.
"You're unbelievably stupid."Molava began.
"Watch your tongue. I'll cut it out."Katizi warned.
"No—I'm the idiot, for helping you drag him here.Molava scoffed.
"He needed help. We couldn't just leave him."
"We? We don't help people. And you? I know you. Whatever game you're playing—you screwed it up. They'll come looking for him. We'll all be dead."
"If you ever stopped talking, maybe you'd be right."Katizi said bitterly.
"Look around. We've survived this long by staying invisible. Now we've drawn attention." Molava said.
"Then go. Take your own path. You're always calling us impure. Spoken like a murderer who stalks the woods. You're no better than me. And certainly not better than Ekatulia." Katizi snapped.
"…You're right. I should leave."Molava whispered, turning away.
She walked off into the forest. Katizi stayed behind glanced toward the old woman, who still tended the wounded stranger. Her face twisted into a cruel, satisfied smile—like everything was falling perfectly into place.