It was quiet in the early morning hours, pulling time from the rising sun.

Harper noticed the fragrant stench from the gutter, the cold steel smell of the earth after ran, and the sound of distant traffic as she walked. The wound in her leg twanged every other step, and the wounds on her arms had yet to heal.

“Its kind of silly to be out this late, don’t you think.”

Harper's mouth, the lips frigid and stiff curled on one side into a smile.“Good morning Gareth.”

Blood dripped from the knife in her hand in huge garrulous drops onto the earth.

“Where are you going?”

She shook the blade to dislodge a splatter of drops with a minute cacophony and bent to wash the blade beneath one of the faucets of a nearby house.

“Home.”

He was silent, watching her at her task. She didn’t look at him, though she could see his feet standing just inches from the pooling water that blushed a telling pink.

“So. who was it this morning? hmm? do tell, i'm so interested." His false cheer made the morning just that much colder.

Harper shrugged and worked a bit of gore off the fingerguard of her blade, minding the edge.

"Or better yet, I thought they found your knife.” He sidled closer consipiritorally.

Harper stood straight. “I have a few. And I didn’t kill this morning.”

“The blood?”

“A cat.”

“You killed a cat? Wow.”

Harper stared into his eyes, ones that were the same mud brown as her own. “I don’t like cats.” She began to walk away again, away from the sun that was creeping over the top of this hill at her back.

“Obviously. But did it help?”

Her reply was too quick to be true. “Yes.”