BLEEDING HEART | ONC 2024

01 - HER

Red. Pure.

Red. Pure.

Light red—oh, the innocence.

Red. Pure.

I count the hearts as they pass me, not paying much mind to their owners, their shells; the humans containing them, keeping them safe. I don't care what gender they are, where they come from, whether they wear rich fabrics or rags.

All I need to know is what is inside their ribcages.

"Oh." I shudder, a whiff of something new, something bad entering my nostrils. "Oh, dark red," I say to myself, focusing on a new person's face while ignoring all the others.

This one I'd have to remember, in case its heart darkened further.

I refocused, attuning to the atmosphere around me. The bustling marketplace, the calls of merchants selling their wares, the foot-traffic forcing me to keep to the shadows of the colorful stalls.

The dark heart is close to me, and I draw my attention to it. To him; a man of moderate size, with a plump but not unpleasant face.

He walks by me without noticing me, hauling a heavy bag loaded with blacksmithing supplies.

Good—I don't want him to see me in this state, my curvy figure covered up, my face drenched in shadows.

I normally hide my identity while I'm on the prowl for impure hearts. Today I'm not as well hidden as I should be, but I wasn't expecting this.

A heart that may turn bad without a moment's notice? A rarity. I habitually have more of a warning.

He's fast; I barely keep up with him as he strides down the busy main avenue of Tavalon. It's a crowded one, leading all the way to the castle doors, but I doubt he's heading there. Royal blacksmiths are more inconspicuous, and rarely step outside the sturdy stone gates for anything.

Plus, knowing King Taro of Tavalon, he already has a handsome retinue of strapping young men to serve him and his weaponry needs.

No, this one works for the common folk. The way he walks with mild confidence, head held high, shows he knows his way around. He's not wincing or complaining, clearly used to heaving that large bag with him.

Maybe he works in a nearby shop or is from out of town. I'd say he's too young to possess the skill to own and manage a store. An apprentice, perhaps?

"Good morning, Druvena," calls the baker's assistant as I weave by the windows of Totally Tarts, the best local bakery in the area. I reel in my drool at the sight of fruity pies, all gushing with scarlet juice.

"Hailey," I nod politely, too hurried to stop and take a sample of whatever she whipped up this morning.

I often swing inside and take a whiff of the delicious scents, maybe take a few treats to go, but not today.

Today, I'm hunting a dark heart. Today, I'm seducing a dark heart. It's the only way to keep track of him without stalking.

I wave at Hailey as I urge my feet to pick up the pace. In this dress—long, frilly, cumbersome, matching the local style—it's hard to navigate the dusty pathway between shops, to avoid the multitude of citizens as they go about their business.

My boots are worn with age and use, and I know I need to replace them; but if anyone catches me sporting something too new, they'll ask questions. They'll think I have money and have an interest in me.

It's best for someone like me to remain in the shadows. Most know me from afar, without being aware of my name, my purpose, or where I live. Some have seen me frequenting taverns, filling up on mead. Others might have spotted me dashing out of the city on the back of a dark mare.