Minah | Kima

A few days later, the caravan arrived—and with it, Kima.

“Your hair is a mess. Let me cut it.”

“Huh?” That was all I could manage after hearing what she’d just said. Sae was off sharing a drink with a few members of the caravan, so it was just Kima and me.

“Being out here in the wilderness is no excuse to let yourself go,” she added bluntly.

This girl… I pegged her as about my age, maybe a little younger, but her attitude was completely different from Itzel’s. I bristled.

“It’s fine. I like my hair like this.”

“Minah, nobody likes their hair like that.”

“Really, it’s fine. I can tie it up—”

Kima cut me off. “It is not a suggestion, Minah. Itzi is too soft with you.”

I sighed. “You sure you know what you’re doing? Have you cut hair before?”

“What do you think? I’ve got a pile of brothers and sisters. I can’t let Nayeli do all the work now, can I?”

Just then, Sae started walking back. “Minah, I hope you still remember Kima.”

I nodded. “Yeah. She just offered to give me a haircut.”

Sae turned to Kima, smiling. “Once you’re done with her, you don’t mind giving me a little trim?”

“Sure,” Kima said with a grin.

Sae’s smile faded slightly as she glanced back toward the caravan. The merchant, Boshek, was securing a tarp over his wagon, his movements practiced and road-weary. He caught Sae’s eye and gave a subtle, almost imperceptible nod.

Sae strode over to him, leaving Kima and me near the cabin’s entrance. I pretended to inspect a loose thread on my tunic, but watched them from the corner of my eye. Their conversation was a low murmur, lost to the wind, but the exchange was clear enough. Sae discreetly passed Boshek a heavy-looking pouch. It didn’t clink like coin; it was a soft, dense weight. Payment.

As Boshek tucked the pouch away, a gust of wind carried a fragment of his voice to me, just a few clear words.

“…no promises, Sae. The Choir covers its tracks well.”

Sae’s reply was too quiet to hear, but my heart stopped. In the space between the rustling leaves, I thought I heard her say two names that I hadn’t dared to speak aloud in months: Hani... Sera.

A cold hope, sharp and painful, pierced through me. She was looking for them. This whole time, she’d been looking.

Boshek climbed onto his wagon, and with a final nod to Sae, flicked the reins. As Sae walked back toward us, her face was a mask of unreadable calm, as if the transaction had never happened.

“Right then,” she said, her voice back to normal as she looked at Kima. “A haircut.”

With that, we made our way back into the cabin. As Kima’s shears snipped rhythmically beside my ear, my mind wasn’t on my hair. It was on the names Sae had whispered. I let her finish, not really noticing what she was doing.

I didn’t have a mirror, but I could tell she left some of my bangs to cover my scar.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

Kima just nodded in satisfaction. “I’m going to take care of Sae and then get started with dinner.”

Unlike her sister, Kima wasn’t much of a talker. After finishing her chores, she would lock herself in her room and spend the rest of the day with her nose buried in a book. I tried a few times to ask what she was reading, but I only got one-word responses.

I spent my days hunting or practicing with Sae until my muscles screamed. The exhaustion felt different now. Each time Sae knocked me to the dirt, I felt I was one step closer to seeing them again.

We passed the days like that, each of us occupied in our own world. I didn’t notice how much time was passing until one morning, the air that greeted me at the cabin door had a new bite to it, and the leaves on the trees at the edge of the clearing were tipped with gold.