The time ticked away slow as honey. Karina's sobs faded into sniffles and tearstains. Vasilisa and Archie continued their conversation.

"Vassie, I need to go out and hunt tonight." Archibald Hedge stood tall and proud. "The season's coming in stronger."

"Of course." Karina wondered at how her mother could sound so cheerful yet so dismal at once. The woman brushed a lock of reddish hair behind her ear--the color was less vivid than Karina had remembered it--and placed her hands on her hips. "I have to help out with a birth tonight since little Gertrude's coming rather late and Olga wants the child to come before it starts getting too hot outside, so she can breathe. Should I leave Karina with the Pinkertons or bring her along? I figured I should ask."

"The Pinkertons?" Archibald looked uneasy. Karina grimaced at his stricken expression; what would he say if he knew his daughter was travelling alone with a Pinkerton? Would he be disgusted by his daughter's lack of morals in being alone with a man at her age--especially one of that family? Especially if it was Hans?

Even if she didn't truly have a choice?

"Vasilisa, do you trust Russel?" Kaina glanced back at her mother, who looked like a grass swaying in the wind. Her face held a picture of inner torment--brown eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed, hands gripping the countertop till her knuckles turned white, swaying from side to side. "Especially after what he did to Mara?"

Who?

Vasilisa shook her head and opened her eyes. "Why should we blame his children for a mistake they didn't commit, for blood they didn't choose? No. Let Karina go to the Pinkertons if she wants to."

"They're best friends," her father muttered. "What if--"

"When they're older?" Vasilisa laughed, her tone lighthearted. Karina glared at her mother. Hans was a bastard, although Vasilisa couldn't have known it when the fellow was so young. "Possibly. But let them be friends for now, Archie." She walked over to him and pecked him on the lips. "Love is a fickle friend when you're that young. I wouldn't wager anything on it."

"Vassie..."

"What is it?" Vasilisa stroked his cheek. Archibald looked sad and mournful. At last, he sighed and sat down on a blanket-robed chair.

"What he did to Mara--what he did to us--I can't trust it. And children learn from their parents. So..."

Karina wanted to scream at the vagueness of the situation. Who was Mara? And what by her bloody Ancestors had Russel Pinkerton done to her?

"We have to believe in him," Vasilisa said, slipping her hand into his and kneeling beside the chair. "Because people can change."

"What do you think would happen if we didn't listen to Russel?" He was a coiled spring of anger, his muscles rigid and packed with fierce energy. "What would happen if we just--ran away? Left Moracia and never came back?"

Vasilisa laughed bitterly. Oh, how Karina loathed that laugh! It was filled with contempt and wretched sadness. "What would that get us? We'd have nothing, nothing at all."

"We'd have each other." He squeezed his wife's hand. "Wouldn't that be enough?"

Vasilisa's words tripped over her tongue. "I--I--Walls have ears, Archie." She stood up, started walking back towards the counter. "How late do you expect you'll be out?"

Archibald looked up at her, his dark eyes a mixture of sadness and anger. "Late enough," he said shortly, and then he grabbed his arrows and bow and walked away, slamming the door behind him.

Vasilisa sighed and rubbed her forehead, once again picking up her knife to cut the herbs. Karina wondered at how her mother could make every movement so precise and direct yet so delicate. Even the way she wiped sweat from her forehead and dumped herbs into the large pot over the fire was graceful. Karina found herself trying to mimic her mothers movements, walking behind her in an attempt to match the way she walked and swayed. She felt almost like a little girl again.

Childhood was a beautiful feeling, but it was fleeting. 

Her strides didn't match her mother's; instead, they extended longer, reaching farther forward than Vasilisa's usually did. And Vasilisa had a way of moving that made everything seem both fragile and important all at once, careful and reverent at the same time. Even the way she would stand was inspirational. Even the way she stood was unattainable to Karina, who looked like a girl playing pretend in a childish mindset.

But she wasn't a child anymore. She'd had that right taken from her.

Karina's arms, which had floated out to the sides in an attempt to be like Vasilisa, dropped like stones in water. Her open fingers clenched and her eyes stung. She could feel her cheeks burn as though there was a fire kept inside them, could feel her heartbeat pound in her head.  

Because Vasilisa was dead.

This woman, whom she had spent her childhood trusting and loving, was dead. Murdered. And Karina needed to--needed to--

She needed to do something. 

Kill Duras. 

Kill Olga. 

Kill Helga. 

No--not just them.

The entire village.

Maybe it was because she was so angry she couldn't think straight. Maybe it was because this was a dream that seemed to be turning more and more real every second, a dream that she couldn't have but she wanted more than anything. Maybe it was because she wasn't a little girl anymore.

Maybe it was because she felt like she needed to run away.

Karina turned to Nyx, who was still standing in the corner with a small smile twitching against his lips and nearly brightening his miserable expression. "Nyx," she began, feeling like a child confessing to stealing a sweet, "why did you bring me here?"

"To know yourself you must know who you have been."

"That's...cryptic." She pressed her fingers against her skirts and peered closely at him.

"And that's a fact." She walked closer to him as his voice dropped lower. "This is to show you your dreams and your true self. The way you were before those fires were lit." His lips tugged into a smile. "This is to save yourself and everyone you might destroy."

****

Karina Hedge of five years was a foreign concept to Karina Hedge of sixteen years.

Of course, they were the same person. They had the same sharp chins, the same long, auburn locks, the same way of tilting their head a bit to the left when they were skeptical of something and the same habit of toying with their fingers when they were nervous.

But the younger version didn't have shadows under her eyes. The younger version had never cried herself to sleep, had never felt sadness cut her to the core. Hadn't been damaged beyond repair.

They weren't the same person.

Karina the younger spun around and carefully balanced on her feet when she was walking, a constant smile on her face. The dim light from the lilac sky shone against her skin, making her look almost holy. The five year old possessed the inner charm that only an innocent could possess, it seemed.

"She's so young," Karina whispered to Nyx as they watched the girl walk with Vasilisa. "I...I mean me. I'm so young." Her voice sounded fragile, like a structure that could collapse at any second. "So innocent."

"You're shocked."

"No..." Karina heard the girl laugh. It echoed all around the village, bouncing against the huts. "Yes, actually."

"You don't think you could ever be so good."

"I--" Karina stopped walking. "Why do you say that." The words were softer than Nyx's feather, nearly lost to the slight breeze, but he heard them. He placed his cold hand on her shoulder.

"Everyone has good in them. Everyone has bad in them. Humans are made from shades of grey." He looked her dead in the eye. "Don't paint yourself as a villain, but don't paint the villagers as such either."

"They killed them! And I--"

"Don't paint your parents as the only heroes, either."

"What?" She shoved his hand off her shoulder, marching away towards her younger self and her mother. Did he only bring her to the past to taunt her? To watch her face change as he insulted the only people who had ever truly cared for her? She should--she should--

No, she would.

As quickly as she had walked away from him she now walked towards him. Her muscles were taut with anger, her step rigid and determined. She met his gaze coolly, raised her hand and--

Smack!

His cheek turned pale with the imprint of her hand for a bare second before fading back to its dark color. Her hand stung at the impact but it felt good. Like she was in power, in control.

Nyx met her furious gaze with guarded eyes. "You don't understand."

She said nothing.

"I'm sorry for the truth, Karina."

Silence.

She walked away, back towards the past. Back towards a girl she no longer was, back towards a mother she no longer had.

"Karina."

He was calling after her. The thought registered in a hot burst of anger. For a mere moment she wanted to go back, to press her hands around his throat. To scream until her throat went hoarse. A part of her almost did, too.

But she did what she did best.

She did nothing.

Hi, everyone! First off, questions about the chapter. What could be improved? What did you think of Archie and Vasilisa? Who do you think Mara is and how do you think she might tie in?? I'm very curious to hear what you all think! :D

Second of all...wow. Thank you all so much for your support! Not only has Night Witch reached 4.1K reads (which is kind of insane), it has also reached its highest rank EVER--116!! I swear I nearly dropped my mobile when I saw it. Thank you all so much!

See you all next week! Bye!

Edited 9/2/16 with typo correction from @Lesha872