During the first week after the Order of Saint Traft occupied the Wittal Parish Thalia had established a sort of training ground behind it, not unlike Elgaud's own training grounds. Minus the burning of innocents, of course. It was smaller by comparison, though. There was only so much space with the surrounding trees, but it served its purpose well enough, even if Thalia was unable to spend as much time there as she would have liked. Across from Thalis stood Ernst, a cathar-initiate in his early thirties who had been a Nephalian merchant until recently, when a passing angel "purified" his home with fire, his wife and child still inside.

Ernst charged at Thalia, thrusting his sword towards her, and Thalia sidestepped. She raised her own blade, thinner than Ernst's, and slightly longer, and deflected his attack. Ernst stumbled past Thalia. Before he could catch his balance, Thalia tapped the edge of her sword against his side.

"You're dead," Thalia said. She tried to remember that he was still new to this, but if he dropped his guard like that in a real fight he would receive something far worse than a tap on the side. "I'm faster than you, Ernst," Thalia raised her sword and Ernst mimicked her, "You'll need to wait for an opening to press your attack." Ernst nodded, and this time it was Thalia who lunged forward, dropping low and thrusting her sword towards Ernst's chest. There was a clang of metal as Ernst's sword met her own, sending vibrations up her arms. The pair traded blows, and Ernst's motions were less erratic than they had been before. Thalia still had little difficulty deflecting his clumsy swipes, but progress was progress.

On the few days that Thalia did spend on the training grounds, her time was rarely spent with the initiates. There were other soldiers who had taken on the mantle of "teacher". Thalia, more often than not, spent her time there with Grete. Since the division of Avacyn's church, the cathars had been tense. Avacyn wasn't one for hearing people out nowadays; to stray from her Church to sin. Of course lately there hadn't been much that wasn't "sin" in the eyes of Avacyn and her Lunarch Council. Thankfully she had managed to bring Odric and Grete into the Order as well. But Odric was on patrol, and Grete had gone with him. Odric hadn't been the same since the escape from Thraben. With her usual sparring partners gone, Thalia was left with the initiates.

"Dead," she said again when her blade tapped against Ernst's stomach. But Ernst wasn't paying attention anymore, and Thalia made a note to bring that up with him. Instead his eyes were on the sky. Thalia followed suit just in time to see Sigarda as she soared over them and disappeared into the loft atop the parish's chapel.

"I don't like it," Ernst said, "the angels can't be trusted. She shouldn't be here."

"That's not your call to make, initiate," Thalia replied. "The Flight of Herons has proven to be a reliable ally. Your mistrust of them, Sigarda in particular, is a luxury we can ill afford."

Ernst narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists, grinding his teeth together hard.

"My 'mistrust' is not a thing you can comment on." Ernst sheathed his blade hard, the hilt smashing loudly into the top of the sheathe. "Not until your family is burnt to ashes by one of them." Ernst didn't wait for Thalia to reply, instead he turned on his heels and stormed back into the parish.

Thalia sheathed her blade. She wished the mistrust ended with Ernst, but she knew that was too much to ask for. He was far from being the only member of the Order that questioned the angel's presence. Few were opposed to the occasional envoy, but the ever-watching eyes of Flight Heron's leader made several initiates, and even a few of the knight-cathars, more than a little uncomfortable. Thalia couldn't really blame them, though. Ernst wasn't the only person to have lost everything to Avacyn's crusade, or the Lunarch Council's Inquisition. It didn't help that Sigarda hadn't yet mingled with the soldiers. Fear of the unknown was a necessity for survival. Thalia's assurance that Sigarda was on their side was all that the soldiers had, and she had to wonder when that would stop being enough.

"Thalia," said Gerda from behind her, "that was harsh."

"Gerda," Thalia whipped around to speak with her lieutenant, "I didn't see you." Thalia noticed that Gerda's curly blond hair hugged her head closely, matted in some places by sweat. "I see you've been hard at work with the initiates." She gestured to three young cathars-in-training who were watching the pair from the other side of the field.

"I was about to say the same to you." Gerda raised an eyebrow at her commander, an expression Thalia had learned was representative of disapproval. "Your approach to Ernst's distrust was handled… poorly, to say the least."

"I only told him the truth, Gerda. The Order is small, and we can't afford to be distrusting of one another. I need to know that these soldiers can be relied on.

"They need the same of you, Thalia."

Thalia didn't respond for a moment. She took a deep breath and gestured to the loft atop the chapel. "Do you think this was a mistake?"

"I think," Gerda said slowly, "that it was a mistake to make the decision on your own. Grete, Odric, and I are here to support you, commander. Try not to forget that."

Before Thalia could think of what to say next, Gerda had returned to her three initiates across the field.


Once again, Thalia found herself ascending the stairway that led to the loft. Sigarda's loft, Thalis reminded herself. The tapping of her boots against the stones echoed and bounced off of the walls just as they had two days before, when Sigarda first arrived. But this time Thalia stopped herself at the door. Before now it had always been Sigarda or her emissaries that came to Thalia. She had never gone to them first, and she wasn't sure how best to handle it.

Should I knock? Thalia asked herself. Or do I just open the door and walk in? Knock. Of course I should knock. She didn't want to intrude on Sigarda's privacy like that. Thalia tapped on the door lightly three times. She waited for what felt like hours (a total of thirty awkward seconds in reality) and then opened the door slowly. It glided open without so much as a squeak and Thalia took a moment to pride herself on how well she had oiled the hinges. She became especially thankful of the extra time she spent on that task when she saw Sigarda.

She was sleeping. Thalia wasn't sure why that was so unexpected, but it was. Sigarda sat in the same chair Thalia had found herself in after their last meeting. After the kiss, which Thalia had been trying very hard not to think about. What struck Thalia the most was how different Sigarda looked while she was asleep. She had abandoned her armor, and it was the first time Thalia had seen her, or any angel, unarmed. Instead Sigarda wore a long green tunic that fell to below her waist and split into several tips toward the bottom, as well as brown cloth pants that Thalia assumed were normally worn beneath the angel's chausses. She was barefoot apart from those.

In the time that Thalia had spent as a cathar she had discovered that, once you take a person out of their armor, they had a tendency to look smaller and softer. Sigarda was an exception. Even asleep there was no doubt that she was a hard woman, and Thalia found it difficult to look away from Sigarda's defined arms, toned from the use of her scythe (a weapon Thalia had once thought of as impractical.)

Sigarda's wings hung slack and reached to the floor on either side of her body, framing her like one of the stained glass windows in the lower chapel. But the open book in her lap, the way her head was propped up in her hand, and the slow pace her breaths came at made her seem surprisingly human. Thalia couldn't shake that thought. On each exhale Sigarda cooed softly, almost like a dove, and her feathers ruffled lightly, making a sound like leaves in the wind. Thalia had known from the beginning that humans were not the equals of angels, she still did, but at that moment she had never felt closer to one. Thalia's eyes were drawn back to Sigarda's lips, and she touched her own lightly. Her face flushed with heat. Once again she was thankful that she had oiled those hinges so well.

As the door clicked shut behind her Thalia paused, and then sat down on the top step of the staircase. Hadn't she, not a moment before walking into the loft, decided that she wouldn't intrude on the angel's privacy? Her face flushed even hotter. She sat on that step for a while, waiting for the red heat to leave her cheeks, not worrying about whether or not Sigarda would find her there. After all, the angel tended to favor exiting through her window as opposed to the actual door. In their first meeting, Thalia hadn't given much thought to why she reacted the way she did upon meeting Sigarda. What person wouldn't stand in awe of such a being? Especially after being kissed by one? But Thalia had to wonder how long it would be before her face stopped flushing when she saw Sigarda. How long before Thalia's heart stopped accelerating in her presence? How much time needed to pass before she stopped thinking about the kiss?

Thalia's hands went to her lips again on impulse, and she took as deep breath. Then she took another. And one more after that. She relaxed her body, allowing her shoulders to slump and her knees to lean against each other.

Thalia couldn't keep on like this. She had duties to the order, and Grete and Odric would be returning from her scouting assignment soon. She rose back to her feet and straightened her posture. She took one more deep breath, exhaled slowly, and took one step downwards.

"I was wondering how long it would take for you to stand back up," Sigarda's soft voice rang through Thalia's head like the bells in Thraben Cathedral.

"Lady Sigarda!" Thalia whipped around on her heels, nearly tumbling down the stairs in the process. "I apologize; I didn't know you had woken." How had Thalia not heard the angel behind her? As quiet as Sigarda was, Thalia should have at least heard the screeching of the door's… hinges. Thalia suddenly found herself regretting how well she had oiled those infernal hinges.

"You seem out of sorts, commander," Sigarda cocked her head to the side, "was there something that you wished to discuss?"

"No," Thalia said, not realizing how short her answer sounded until after she said it. "I mean no, my lady."

Sigarda smiled a soft smile, and behind her the setting sun shone through the loft's open archways, and she was suddenly crowned with a crimson halo, her hair nearly woven together with the light. Thalia melted in an instant.

"If you've nothing to discuss, why do I find you outside my door, commander?"

Thalia found herself at a loss for words. It wasn't that she had none to say, but that she couldn't bring herself to say them, her mouth simply wouldn't move. Sigarda laughed, a gentle and tinkling titter.

"Well," she opened her door wider and gestured for Thalia to enter, "you may as well come in." Sigarda turned and walked back towards her chair, leaving the door open for Thalia.

As Thalia entered the loft for the second time that day she had only one thought; never again, for as long as she lived, would she oil the hinges of another door.