The lone figure trudged wearily along the dusty road, each step a laborious effort that sent aching protests through fatigued limbs. Their too-small wooden shoes chafed against cramped toes, scraping away layers of blistered skin with every uneven stride. Still, the figure pressed forward, back held perfectly straight in a stubborn denial of their own languor.

  A gusting wind swelled against the figure's diminutive body, tugging at the traveller's oversized brown cloak and peeling it away like a curtain. Beneath the tattered fabric, a slender form was revealed—a woman clad in a patchwork of mismatched gambeson armours, each piece painstakingly altered to be more form-fitting and creating a great oversized dress to her knees. Not an inch of skin was left exposed; from neck to foot, she was shielded against the elements. Even her hands, gloved in supple leather, remained hidden.

  The woman's armour bizarrely bulged at the hip like there were some thickly coiled ropes stuffed underneath. At the waist, she wore a belt, and synched tight to it was a small black rectangular box. Like everything else she carried, this, too, was stolen. It had been some time since she first acquired it, long enough for the memory to blur, but she vaguely recalled its original owner had called it a briefcase.

  The woman's cloak hood was strapped tightly beneath her chin in a desperate attempt to keep the wind from wrenching it away. A brown porcelain mask shaped like a doe's head was pressed firmly against her face as if by some unseen force. The blank, beady eyes of the doe left seemingly no room for the character underneath to peer through, yet still, she walked with firm conviction.

  Beyond the doe mask veiling her features, two more porcelain headpieces adorned her shoulders like pauldrons—one sculpted in the likeness of a mantis, the other a sloth. Each mask, just like the doe, held firmly to the woman's body despite no visible mechanism existing to do so.

  Just as the first threats of rain darkened the sky, the woman's wobbly legs carried her to the edge of a village. The mucky dirt road leading in was flanked by crooked houses of damp, swollen wood, their questionable stability waning with the whining wind.

  It was a small, forgotten hamlet—she doubted it had more than a dozen homes in total. It was an isolated place filled with isolated people. She was most likely the first visitor to pass through for a long time since, and would likely be the only visitor for a long time hence. That suited her just fine. Lost and alone was the ideal; it made her even harder to track.

  Peering down the hamlet's sole thoroughfare gave her a comprehensive view of all its offerings. There was little in the way of artistry in the village, but there had been something that caught her particular interest.

  A little way down the street, there appeared to be a building set aflame. Sweltering tongues of fire lashed outward, devouring the fragile wooden structure in raging destruction. The weakened beams groaned and splintered, crumbling beneath the relentless assault of the caustic chemical curtain.

  The inferno loomed over the town, casting an ominous orange glow that bled into the streets. The roaring bursts of hellfire shattered the village's quiet with the torrential terror of environmental immolation. The blazing symphony was so deafening; its cacophony of crackling wood and booming eruptions nearly drowned out the tortured symphony of shrieks rising from within.

  Despite how insignificant the town was, it surprisingly still sported two guards at its entrance, and they seemed entirely unbothered by the incredible firestorm playing out behind them. Instead, the two guards were off to the side sharing swigs of a foul-smelling canteen when they noticed the approaching stranger. The guards' gazes immediately steeled, a growl building in one's throat, and the doe got its hackles up.

  Once the guard's eyes noticed the stranger's three blank porcelain masks, his aggression instantly drained. The two whispered something between each other, and one jogged off deeper into town. The other removed his tabard and moved forward to intercept her.

  "Uuuh, good day… um, fellow traveller? What brings you to this—our—little home."

  The stilted but otherwise lackadaisical greeting caught the woman somewhat off guard, and she quickly glanced at the concerning fire down the road.

  When the guard noticed her wandering eyes, his hands subtly maneuvered to his weapon. Not subtly enough, the doe hurriedly broke her curious gaze and refocused back on the guard. "Just travelling through, sir. I was hoping to find a place to spend the night before continuing on." Her voice came out as a strained rasp that made each word sound as a loud whisper.

  The guard laughed awkwardly. "Sorry, we're all full. You won't be able to find any rooms available here." The doe glanced back over to the burning building with worry, then to the crumpled tabard that the guard had removed. The green cloth was too bunched up to make out its crest.

  The guard laughed again, a nervous tick. "There's another town not too far down the road that you could try?"

  The doe thought about it, but she was far too tired. The woman shook her head, "I won't take much space. It would just be for one day and night."

  The guard failed to suppress his scowl. He was clearly playing with another rejection in his head when the second guard returned and whispered something into his ear.

  The first guard sighed and stepped aside. "Alright, you can try and see if anyone can spare you, but like I said, we're full up. You'd be better-taken care of in another town."

  The woman ignored him and entered the village.

  As she approached, the woman could not overlook the incredible conflagration eating away at the one building. Through a smoke-clouded window, barely visible against the blaze, she noticed the helpless char of mangled flesh. Their staining silhouette was captured in a desperate clawing motion as the corpse reached out for the indifferent bystanders in an ignored freeze frame of their hopeless plea for salvation.

  The clouds finally gave way, releasing a torrent of empathetic rain, but the downpour was a feeble rescuer. Raindrops sizzled uselessly against the inferno, evaporating before they could even hope to quell the flames.

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  The doe stirred—an anxious urge to flee. The woman clenched her jaw, forcing herself to ignore the foreign fear that gnawed at her face. She scanned her surroundings instead. The few townspeople who were out and about appeared entirely apathetic to the plight of the melting family, far more wary of her than it. The only few who were actually engaging with the wild pyre were the few neighbours frantically trying to save their own homes from its spread.

  She also idly noticed that there were a few other structures with marks of past fires, but they had all since been doused. Save for the one obvious exception.

  For now, especially with the bothersome rain deciding to have joined, the woman simply wanted a place to rest with a roof over her head, and it was clear those in the fire would not be of assistance in that regard—nor would playing hero endear her to the town. Without another glance at the burning house, she moved on.

  The woman continued down the street and ignored the sting in her eyes from the caustic smoke while she searched for available lodging. The doe remained wary of the occasional glares cast by the locals, keenly aware of how oddly armed the local population appeared to be.

  Thankfully, none of their ire lingered long enough to pose a real threat. Most shot a single directed scowl, then quickly corrected and returned to their strangely aimless routines—most, but not all.

  A pair of children skulked through the nearby alleys, not-so-subtly spying on the unfamiliar traveller. Even the doe sensed little danger in their curiosity. The woman ignored them and set her sights on a building larger than the rest, its worn wooden sign swaying in the wind. It appeared to be the local tavern—and, with any luck, it would be an inn as well.

  She entered the tavern, finally escaping the growing storm and allowing her oversized cloak to fully rewrap around her, adding some much-needed bulk to her stature. She patted herself off from any collected soot and rain and inspected the new location.

  The inside of the tavern was as one would expect from such a quaint town. Shoddy craftsmanship left wobbly chairs and lopsided tables strewn across warped floors, though it was perhaps a little more rundown than she would have imagined. There was the sporadic visual scarring of weapon wounds dug into the woodwork and, of course, the overambitious smog that crept in from outside: she ignored it.

  The establishment was shockingly full, with nearly thirty patrons at her quick count, likely regulars who spent as much time at the bottom of a mug as they did with their families. She thought they might be the local militia as they ubiquitously wore armour with readied hands propped on their weapons.

  Wary eyes snapped toward her as she properly stepped inside, their gazes heavy with suspicion. She was an intruder—a foreign infection whose presence was the harbinger of change, an unpredictability that would jostle the pleasantly monotonous routine that was their lives.

  She simply ignored the judging stares, long accustomed to the weight of silent disapproval. The oppressive atmosphere was nothing new.

  Approaching the bar, she set her sights on the lone bartender, who stood idly polishing a tall glass with a red-stained cloth. The cloth was clearly far too filthy to serve its purpose, yet the bartender worked with undue concentration. He was short by most standards but still loomed nearly two heads taller than her.

  The woman cleared her throat and spoke to the host. "Hello, I was wondering if you offered rooms to stay here?"

  The bartender flinched, caught off guard by the unexpected voice behind the mask, but his demeaning scowl remained firmly in place. Despite the bartender's apparent distaste for the stranger, he kept his tone civil. "We don't offer any rooms here. If you want to find a place to rest, you'll have to ask and see if any of the locals will be willing to take you in." That comment made one of the obviously eavesdropping audience members stifle a laugh.

  The bartender shot them a silencing glare. The woman kept her face fixed on the bartender, her expression unreadable behind her doe mask, yet somehow, those dead porcelain eyes still exuded an imperceptible begging hope.

  "Would you be willing to—" Her words were cut off by the bite of thick smog burning at the back of her throat. The woman was thrown through a short coughing fit until she cleared her throat, struggling to expel the irritant. She tried again. "Would you be willing to lend me a room for just one night? I can pay."

  The bartender hesitated, his gaze momentarily flickering with discomfort. "I'm sorry, but I'm working here all day. I mean no disrespect, but I'd rather not leave my home alone with a stranger."

  The woman glanced out the tavern window, her gaze catching a fleeting glimpse of the eager day star peeking over the still-burning building. A faint rainbow formed through the rain. A few weary patrons took the moment to shuffle out and escape the awkward atmosphere before she started asking everyone for lodging.

  She turned back to the bartender, his falsely warm smile now grating against her mood, and a wave of resigned irritation washed over her.

  Disappointment sagged her shoulders, and she exhaled a weary sigh. "I understand."

  Turning away, she allowed the lifeless doe mask to face the few remaining patrons who had been listening in on her conversation. "Well," she said, her voice flat, "is anyone else here willing to rent me a room for one day and one night? I just need lodging; no food nor latrine required; I'll be gone by tomorrow morning."

  In truth, she would have quite liked all of those comforts, but for now, a roof and cot were her top priority. If sacrificing those other amenities would increase her chances, she was more than willing to make the trade.

  Despite her barest of requests, the tavern remained silent, the dead stares of the patrons made it clear that none were inclined to welcome her to their homes. Right when she was about to resign herself to knocking door to door, a voice finally broke the stillness. "I have a... barn, just outside of town." His irked voice was gruff and laced with a little uncertain anxiety.

  It was clear that his offer didn't come from any sort of generosity or even pity but rather a forfeit, his noble sacrifice for the town to eschew the woman from bothering any more of its peaceful residents with her presence.

  The man's eyes met the doe mask's blank gaze, his hand tightening around the hilt of his weapon. "What? You got a problem with the barn?"

  The man shot a nervous glance at the bartender. She couldn't see how the bartender responded, nor did she particularly care.

  The woman quickly swallowed down her annoyance. "No sir, a barn would be perfect. Thank you for helping me, sir."

  Her new host then broke off from his silent conversation with the barkeep and met her mask's blank gaze, scoffing at the hollow gratitude she'd offered.

  "If you're staying the night in my barn," he grunted, "you'd better wash yourself in the river first. I wouldn't want my animals subjected to your... stench."

  The woman couldn't believe what she'd just heard. Beneath the doe mask, her face twisted into a scowl of fury, and though her hands were hidden by her cloak's oversized sleeves, she clenched them into tight fists.

  The room's tension immediately ratcheted, the militia poised for action.

  Before doing anything rash, she paused. She wanted to test something first. Slowly, the doe lifted one hand and sniffed the pit of her arm: oh. She supposed it had been a long time since she had bathed.

  Perhaps the unfriendly glares were a little more understandable now.

  She realized, with a mix of surprise and self-consciousness, that it had been a long time since she'd bathed.

  Embarrassed, she cleared her throat and asked for directions to the river.

  She quickly exited the tavern, relieved that the mask hid the flush creeping up her neck and cheeks. There really were benefits to keeping one's face concealed.

  She noticed the burning building had fully collapsed by this point. She ignored it and followed her directions to the river.