![[Image: 1oGglrA.jpg]](http://imgur.com/1oGglrA.jpg)
It was strange, seeing the place again. Surreal even.
The small manse lay huddled against the cliff face, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. To her of course, it wasn’t. The house was like a ghost, a spectre. Some remnant of the past that somehow persisted into the present.
She clutches her burden under one arm, and steps out into the lake, boots finding purchase on cobblestone a few inches beneath the surface. There was a dry path, of course, but this felt appropriate. A small current brushes against her, propelled by the small waterfall bordering the house.
She steps back onto land, her boots leaving wet tracks as she heads to the gate. A low wall protected by a row of rusting cannon, a garden overgrown with weeds, a fish pond long since dry. Even though she expected this, some small part of her still grieved that time had taken such a toll on the place.
The door is chained and locked, loops of iron binding the doors. The wooden sign nailed nearby says ‘NO ENTRY’, but the broken windows show that it was ignored by at least one person. She takes the heavy object from under her arm, a squat pair of bolt cutters. She places the sharp beak of the device over the hasp of the lock, and hesitates.
Laughter, drinking.
Friendly faces and warm fires.
Harsh words, and harsher partings.
Did she truly wish to go through such things again? Did she even deserve to?
The miqo’te takes a deep breath, adjusting the carved mask that covers her face.
No.
She didn’t. Her muscles bulge for a moment, and the lock falls to the ground.
But others, others did.
She wouldn’t fail again.
![[Image: yr2A1Eo.png]](http://i.imgur.com/yr2A1Eo.png)
