Night Witch

Chapter 20

Hans was silent.

It was an odd thing. Even when he was cruel to her or upset with her, even when she had been a village slave-- he was still talkative. But now he had his lips pressed together, only acknowledging her presence through a pleading glance cast her way every so often.

She decided, after a very brief amount of time, that she didn't like it.

It was too strange to not hear Hans's voice. She could still feel his presence, hear the way dead branches snapped under his feet. His distinct scent of leather, sweat, and pine travelled with her. But he didn't talk, didn't stomp about or gesticulate wildly. Didn't do anything emotional or dramatic or anything remotely Hans.

That's a...good thing.

She pressed her fingers together and did her best to ignore the voice.

"I see you took my advice about the silence."

He rubbed his neck, stared at the ground.

"I wish you hadn't."

He didn't respond.

"I don't understand why you don't want me to do it."

His lips pressed together, as though words wished to escape his mouth.

"Hans, tell me! I can try and forgive your past, but this future thing isn't working!"

"'Rina, I... it's complicated." He looked at her pleadingly. She stared at him coldly.

Why...should you believe him anymore?

"You said you would try and you aren't. I am done with broken promises and lies. Done. If you're not going to help me, just leave. Go! I--"

"Karina, you may think you know everything, but you don't! Just drop it, okay?"

Drop him...

"What in Hel? I know I don't know everything! I spent my days churning butter, not getting a formal education like some people!"

"You're seriously bringing up the past again? Karina, you said we were done, that we were fine!"

You...shouldn't be. Look at what he's done...the pig!

"So long as you changed the future. But you're still acting like a pig...just a different kind of pig."

Yes...indeed.

"Hold on! I was taking a note from your book, little Miss Silent-for-eight-whole-years! At least I communicated what I felt back then! But you--"

"What, was neglected and hurt by everyone around me? Including you?" Her skin was fire, burning emotion that colored her cheeks and sealed her wounds.

Hans shook his head. "Ancestors, Karina, you'd think that I was trying to hurt you! I--"

He...is trying to hurt you.

"Are you?"

"Not trying. But it's more complicated than that." He sighed. "Is there a way for Night and Day to coexist?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think it's possible for two completely different powers to work together?"

Words tripped over her tongue, too quick to understand. "I don't really know much about the powers of the Light and the Dark."

Hans smiled grimly. "There's a story."

"Is it real?"

He sighed. "Is anything?"

He...is not.

"Are you?"

"Are you, Karina?"

"I'm trying to be."

"Well, so am I!" There was a pause. "The story."

"Give me a minute." Hans shoved his hands in his pockets and closed his eyes, as if trying to recollect his thoughts. Karina noticed the way his brow wrinkled like the folds in a sheet, the way his lips pressed together until the color faded from them.

His eyes opened, and the muscles in his face relaxed. "Give me a beat like the way they did stories in Moracia. To drums."

Karina's jaw clenched. "I'm not doing anything that finds its origins in Moracia. Stories are stories, no matter how you tell them." She nudged his arm. "Go."

Good....girl.

"Once upon a time, there was only darkness. Night ruled over all the worlds with an iron fist--"

"The Night? Evil?" The last word was barely audible, but it felt louder than anything else. "Like my mother."

"She wasn't--"

"She tried to kill someone."

"And? Moracia is filled with murderers and liars. Including me, including you. Vasilisa just fit into that mold."

"But she wasn't--" The words broke off. Supposed to.

Because Vasilisa had seen her through those eight years of torture. Because Vasilisa had guided her from above, the way Ancestors were supposed to. Because she had lived by her mother's doll, her mother's words, trusting that Vasilisa was always right. That Vasilisa always knew best. That--

Everything shattered.

Her senses were a whirlwind, tears and wet and thorns that dug into her knees as she crumpled to the ground. And there was dirt, and rough, and chilly, and slick buttons that passed under her fingertips. And soft, and sharp, leather and sweat, and a hint of frosty blue as she looked up and saw what was maybe sky--she didn't even know anymore--and she looked down a little bit and she saw golden hay. And heard the sound of her own gasping breaths.

Vasilisa couldn't be an entire lie.

She just couldn't.

But she couldn't be an entire truth, either. An entirety of the mother she had known and loved just couldn't exist. Such perfection couldn't really exist. There had to be more to her mother.

But Vasilisa was not entirely good or bad. Good could do bad things, and bad could do good things. And that meant that nothing could go entirely either way. The struggle was figuring out what was what, and to what degree of good or bad it was.

She saw blue, the kind of blue that was too light to be like the dark jewels the Traders brought around, but too dark for the rushing of a stream. The kind of blue that was only Hans, and nobody else.

Don't...trust it.

But she had to. But she did.

Everything seemed clearer now, despite the blurriness of her sight and her twisted thoughts. She fell into Hans, holding fistfuls of the soft cloth of his shirt. "Please," she whispered, "don't let go."

She didn't hear a response.

Hey, everyone! I'm sorry if this felt a bit filler-esque; I can say wholeheartedly that it's not. What did you think of Hans here? What do you think is going on with him? And the voice in Karina's head...any thoughts on that? Please tell me in a comment! If you enjoyed this, please press that little gold star in the corner and tell me why! If you didn't, please explain and I'll do my best to improve. Thanks for reading, and see you all next week!