I left the town before sunset.
The sky was already turning dark, and the cold grew worse as the light faded. The road outside the town was quiet. Only a few carts passed by, heading in the opposite direction. No one paid me any attention. I kept my head down and walked at a steady pace.
My legs were tired. I had been walking for hours without rest. The ground was hard, and my boots were old. Each step felt heavier than the last.
I needed a place to sleep.
Sleeping outside in winter was a bad idea. I had done it once before, and I woke up with my body stiff and my fingers numb. If it snowed during the night, I might not wake up at all.
There was a small inn on the side of the road, a little far from the town. A wooden sign hung above the door. The paint was faded, but I could still read the name. The light inside was warm. Through the window, I saw people sitting at tables, eating and talking.
My stomach twisted again.
I stood across the road and watched for a while.
Going inside was risky. Inns had people. People talked. Guards sometimes came to drink. If someone recognized me from the wanted poster, I would be in trouble. But sleeping outside was worse. I was tired of being cold and hungry.
After standing there for a few seconds, I crossed the road.
The bell above the door rang when I pushed it open. Warm air rushed over my face. The smell of soup and roasted meat filled the room. My body relaxed on its own.
The inn was small. There were five tables, most of them already taken. A few travelers sat near the fireplace, warming their hands. The innkeeper stood behind the counter, wiping a cup with a cloth. He was a middle-aged man with tired eyes but a calm face.
He looked up at me.
"A room?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied.
My voice sounded rough. I hadn't spoken much in days.
"Two coppers for the night. One copper if you want soup."
I reached into my pocket and took out three coins. My fingers hesitated for a moment before I placed them on the counter.
The innkeeper nodded and handed me a small wooden key with a number carved into it.
"Upstairs. Last room on the left."
"Thank you."
I took the key and went upstairs. The stairs creaked under my weight. The hallway was narrow and dim. A single candle was fixed to the wall, lighting the path.
The room was small. There was a bed, a chair, and a tiny table. The blanket looked old, but it was clean. That was enough for me.
I locked the door and leaned against it for a moment. My shoulders dropped. Only then did I realize how tense my body had been.
I sat on the bed and took off my gloves. My hands were red from the cold. I rubbed them together to bring back some feeling.
A knock sounded on the door.
I froze.
My heart started beating faster. My hand moved on its own toward the small knife hidden inside my coat. I stared at the door, holding my breath.
"Soup," a voice said from outside. "You paid for it."
I relaxed a little. I walked to the door and opened it slowly. A young girl stood there, holding a wooden bowl. She looked no older than fourteen. Her cheeks were red from the heat of the kitchen.
"Here you go," she said and handed me the bowl.
"Thanks."
She nodded and walked away.
I closed the door and placed the bowl on the table. Steam rose from the soup. The smell was simple but comforting. I picked up the spoon and took a slow sip.
It was hot.
The warmth spread from my mouth to my chest and down to my stomach. I didn't realize how hungry I was until that moment. I ate quietly, one spoon at a time, careful not to burn myself.
When the bowl was empty, I felt a little more alive.
I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. The wood above me was cracked in some places. I wondered how many travelers had slept in this room before me. How many of them had stories they never told anyone.
I closed my eyes.
Sleep didn't come right away.
Every small sound made me tense. Someone laughing downstairs. A chair moving. The wind hitting the window. My mind kept replaying the night of the attack. The flames. The screams. The man in black armor asking for water.
I turned to my side and pulled the blanket closer.
I told myself to calm down. I was safe for now. No one had recognized me. No guards had walked into the inn.
Just as my breathing started to slow, I heard voices from downstairs.
The words were unclear at first. Then one sentence reached my ears.
"…they say the Right Hand passed through this area."
My eyes opened.
I sat up slowly and listened.
The voices were loud enough to reach the stairs. Someone was talking near the counter.
"I heard the description. Tall, wearing a dark cloak. Calm eyes. Dangerous type."
"That's what the wanted posters say. The bounty is high too."
My fingers tightened around the blanket.
They were talking about me.
I stayed still and listened. My heartbeat felt loud in my ears.
"Think he'll come here?"
"Who knows? If I see him, I'm not getting involved. That kind of person brings trouble."
Laughter followed.
I let out a slow breath.
They weren't looking for me. They were just talking. To them, I was a story. A rumor. A dangerous name on a piece of paper.
To me, it was my life.
I stood up and walked to the window. I pulled the curtain aside just enough to look outside. The road was quiet. Snow had started to fall lightly. The white flakes drifted down without a sound.
For a moment, everything looked peaceful.
I wondered how long this peace would last.
I stepped away from the window and sat back on the bed.
I couldn't stay here long.
If the rumors were already spreading to small inns on the road, then someone serious would come sooner or later. A hunter. A hero. Or someone who wanted the bounty.
I lay down again and closed my eyes.
For tonight, I would sleep.
Tomorrow, I would move again.
That was all I could do.