From this vantage, she could clearly see the two at the altar. Their tangled breaths were louder now, one thrusting, the other letting out the occasional moan. Anji grimaced and studied them with a horrified fascination until the Hawk patted the stone below. Anji offered her hands, but the Hawk shook her head and pointed at the window. Frowning, Anji turned and peered through the opening. Minding the glass, she dropped to the rocky ground outside, her feet stinging with the impact. She looked around just as the Hawk landed behind her, already slinking into the darkness. Anji followed, thighs burning with the effort of staying crouched.

The moon cast a shallow light on the grass growing tall and thick along the long-forgotten path. Anji snuck along after the Hawk. A thousand questions burst into her head, not the least of which was how the Hawk had actually found her, but she kept her mouth shut. They could talk once they’d left this place behind.

The Hawk held up a fist as they came even with the cathedral’s front corner.

A trio of horses, heads buried in the grass, stood at the cathedral entrance. Anji’s stomach flipped. The blue bag was still dangling off the saddle of the Goat’s horse. She made for it, but the Hawk yanked her back.

“Wait here.”

Anji clenched her unmaimed hand into a fist, but stayed put as the Hawk parted the grass and padded toward the horses, then began untying the reins from two.

Something silver flashed through the air and stuck quivering in the earth at the Hawk’s feet. A shadow emerged from the cathedral’s opposite side.

“Leave it, Kit,” came the Ox’s voice from behind her mask.

Anji edged back behind the corner, hoping the stout woman hadn’t seen her, that the doors wouldn’t crash open, emitting the others. She listened for any sign that the two in the cathedral had heard, but so far there was no commotion, no additional voices. Anji couldn’t even hear the sound of their panting any longer.

“Did you not hear me?” the Ox said, now stepping around the remaining horse. She slid another knife from her belt. “Kit, please. Just leave.”

Kit?

“She’s coming with me, Ox,” said the Hawk. Anji inched forward, careful not to let her head come into view.

“Don’t make me do this,” the Ox said, voice hitching. Was she crying? The stalwart woman who had held Anji down and watched with a wooden face while her fingers had been cut off?

“You don’t have to do anything,” said the Hawk. She rolled the reigns in one hand, and began to back away.

“Kit, stop,” hissed the Ox, her boots crunching on the gravel and broken glass as she closed in on the Hawk.