"Have you heard?"
A middle-aged woman whispered, craning her neck to glance over her shoulders while expertly gutting a fish. She occasionally swatted away the flies that tried to perch on her fish. Her neighbor, a condiments seller, looked at her suspiciously, her left brow raised.
"Well whatever it is, it must be quite the news to have you whispering and acting like a thieving rat!"
Her neighbor whisper-shouted back. She wiped down a corner of her display tray careful not to touch the Yukon spice on it. That would spell trouble indeed.
There were so many things people didn't know about Yukon apart from its strange abilities and high demand from the nobles. But that was talk for another day.
"It's all the Greylocks talk about, how could you not know, Miwana?" She queried, wrinkling her nose at her. Whether it was disgust, disdain or perhaps the mix of the putrid smell of rotten fishes, salty sea air and the sickeningly sweet smell of spices, Miwana did not know—but she felt offended immediately. Her ears burned and her eyes narrowed. She hated that about Gazelna—that awful facial gesture she had to put up with since their days in the market together.
"Well are you going to tell me or not, or else just shut up Gazelna!"
The surrounding sellers momentarily threw sharp, curious looks at the duo.
Miwana pursed her lips as though she could swallow back her outburst. Gazelna giggled like a young lass, shaking her head. A few strands of her hair escaped the scarf on her head. She tried putting them back but Miwana smacked her hand away.
"Don't spread those fish guts all over your hair now, you silly goose!" Miwana gently patted down the cocoa brown strands before returning them inside the scarf.
"You're such a dear, Mew-mew."
"Don't call me that," Miwana pouted.
"Alright, alright, " Gazelna chuckled.
"Anyway, word has it that..." Her voice dropped to a whisper again, eyes solemn and lacking their usual mirth , "...slave traders raided the Parade Grounds last night." Miwana's breath hitched, her hand flying to her chest.
"Itcan't be...They wouldn't dare, on a two moon night?" her eyes widened.
"Oh they dared. They even..." She picked her fish knife and drew an imaginary slit over her throat meaningfully. A few traders around them reacted to this, visible shudders running through their spines. Some slowed down in their tasks as though it would make them hear better.
"No one has heard from any survivors..." She paused then added, " if there are any"
"Have the patrolmen done anything yet?"
"They can't do much. They lost their leader in the chaos as well. Even Madame Luseaux lost one of her girls"
The whispers intensified. Even Miwana looked shocked. If Madame Luseaux, a descendant of pure nobles could fall to such a state, then it might be truly over for the others. Miwana stared at her spice tray. The red and yellow colors of spices stared back at her, as though it were taunting her. Suddenly, it all felt meaningless. Could they continue to live as though nothing happened? It could be anyone tomorrow...Madame, the Patrol leader not to mention lives of traders like hers.
Tiny Wilovayde has had its issues back in the day, but never has something so audacious happened.
"Two cups of Yukon, please ," the customer in front of her snapped her out of her thoughts.
"Of course Miss, right away." Miwana scooped the spice into a pouch with inscription needlework on it.
"You do know how to be careful with it, don't you miss? You mustn't tou..." Miwana asked and proceeded to explain. But the young lass had already dashed out in a hurry dropping some coins on her tray. Miwana shook her head. "Youngsters these days, always in a hurry."
The young lass skipped quickly, almost running. She brushed past bodies and avoided muddy puddles. She ducked behind a building, almost as though avoiding something. Drawing her hat even lower, she wove through the back of buildings. Often needing to scale over mini wooden fences at intervals. The hem of her simple black gown got wet with mud and the delicate lace tore in several spots. But it wasn't the time to care for such trivialities.
She finally came to a stop at the back entrance of a building. Hurriedly plunging a key into the keyhole, she swung the door open and quickly let herself in.
She let out a deep sigh as soon as she shut the door. Sinking to the floor in exasperation, as her racing heart steadied gradually.
She wiped the mud off of her legs and shoes. Then she hid the pouch underneath the layers of skirts she wore.
She drifted off minutes later, fast asleep. Her memories of last night replaying.
"Klaryna! Klaryna!"
"Come on get up, hurry!"
Yvonne dragged her friend amidst the shouts and screams reverberating the Grounds.
They both ran with all their might, their hair coming undone as the pins that held them fell to the bloodied stones that decorated the once bright Parade Grounds.
"Let's go this way! It's faster!" Yvonne felt the strong urge to refuse but she didn't have the time to ponder directions.
An arm flopped right in the front of her skirt, it's owner wailing in horror a foot away.
Yvonne felt bile rising as she stared at the twitching hand that now lay by her feet.
Klaryna pulled her away, smacking remnants of the flesh off of her skirt.
They crouched down and waddled through the human-sized pipe behind an alley.
Klaryna fell behind. Yvonne dragged her along this time. Her legs moving faster than she thought normal.
She felt a sharp, painful thud at the back of her head. She didn't have time to turn before crumpling to the cold stone floors of the street. Her eyes drooped shut against her will.
"Well, you sure wasted our time." A masked figure suddenly appeared behind Klaryna. Three more followed behind.
"I didn't have time to..." A crisp slap resounded. Klaryna shrieked.
"Shut your trap, you vile wench! I don't pay you for excuses!" Klaryna drew back fearfully. The rancid stench of ale wafted to her nose.
"Here, you go. That should cover for the Yukon as well. Have it delivered in three days." Klaryna caught the pouch. It jingled upon landing. It sounded promising.
Yvonne suddenly sat up. Her back so straight it seemed as though she were reclining on an invisible chair.
Then her eyes opened, one first then the other as if she didn't know how to use them.
A wide unnatural smile bloomed across her face as she raised a hand in Klaryna's direction.
The group of four and Klaryna stared in disbelief as a voice that sounded far too inhuman groaned.
Then in the chorus of two voices, she groaned loudly, "Et tu Brute ?"
Klaryna's breath hitched. She drew back, clutching the coin purse tighter. One of the four grabbed a club shaped stick drawing closer to Yvonne.
She slumped back to the ground. Her face pale and drained. For three heartbeats, everyone was quiet.
"What a strange oddball." One of them mused breaking the silence
Klaryna on the other hand was terribly frightened. A sigh startled her.
It was from Yvonne.
"Klaryna...Klaryna...Klaryna" Yvonne moaned continuously. She crawled ever so slowly as she croaked out the name.
Then—at lightning speed, lunged towards Klaryna. Her eyes red with fury and a twisted expression. She knocked a screeching Klaryna to the ground, wrestling for control.
"Et tu Brute?"
"Et tu Brute ?"
She clasped a hand around her throat as the four tried to pry the girl off of Klaryna. She squeezed with unnatural strength leaving Klaryna wheezing and gasping for breath.
Klaryna awoke with a violent start. Breathing heavily and quickly. Her neckerchief was wet with cold sweat. She drew her knees to her chest, huddling by the corner.
She remembered erasing all traces of her appearance at the Grounds. She still couldn't help but feel that someone saw her.
Yvonne's words haunted her greatly too.
"What did 'et tu Brute' mean?" She wondered.
The floors beneath her pulsed with golden speckles of light, and she heard it again
"Et tu Brute ?"
Her breath stilled, her eyes red with fear.
Chilling Fright.