Author's Note: Alright, here we go again! You guys are going to start getting cranky when I get busy and can't update as often! Anyway, short and uneventful chapter here, but important for plot clues, learning who the hell Jessob is, and getting a better idea of Katja's angry internal dialogue. You're going to start noticing that certain parts of her personality are contradictory to one another- that's for a very good reason... Anyway, hopefully the cliffhanger I left is good (meaning it annoys the hell out of my readers!) and keeps you coming back. And in regards to last chapter's angst moment... what can I say? She loves her mother, even if she can't forgive her lies. Kind of like real life, except this will all make sense in the end. Now, my alternate personality is screaming at me to quit talking and let you read. So. Enjoy!

Three weeks. Three horrible weeks. Three long, miserable, excruciatingly painful, psychologically taxing, bloody friggin' weeks.

That is how long I've been with this stupid caravan.

The twins won't leave me the hell alone, and it's starting to tick me off. I don't even walk around the camp anymore unless I'm wearing my brass knuckles, and even then they're not always put off. It's annoying that they're always wanting to know if I need something- anything at all, Jorge emphasizes- and standing too close to me. Aimee doesn't appreciate me walking around with my knuckles all the time either, she says I'm "scaring away customers." Ha! More like I'm trying to defend myself and she's being a total nutcase by asking everyone if they've heard news of her "beloved hero."

Three weeks of this. I have had enough. Sure, they're odd, but this is ridiculous. I could deal with Aimee and the twins if one or the others could be subtle about their insanity, but no. They just act crazy. And if Jorge tries to get too close to me again, I swear to Ashera I will knock his teeth out! Ignorant pervert.

"Katja-"

"What the hell do you want now?" I growl, and turn around to face-

Daniel. Oh hell. I hate myself right now, I really, really do. Still hate Jorge more, though.

"Sorry Daniel, I thought it was Jorge trying to sneak up behind me again. What is it that you need?"

"Well, we're almost to Nevassa-" Yes! Finally! No more perverted Jorge and crazy Aimee!

"-and I was wondering what kind of weapon you use. Other than your knuckles, I mean."

Weapon? Right- Daniel makes things. Makes sense, because his brother likes to destroy things, such as my patience, and Goddess knows I have very little of that in the first place. Also a good thing, Daniel makes sharp and dangerous things. Hmm… maybe this caravan isn't as bad as I thought.

Nope. It is. Daniel is cool though.

"Uh, well, I use… blades, I guess," I say cautiously. I don't want to give away my… profession… in case word gets out and my reputation gets destroyed. Well, reputation with what I call The Network. The marks have no idea that I even exist, let alone have a reputation.

"Blades, huh? That's good- what kind of sword do you want?"

"Well, um… I really don't use swords…"

Daniel looks at me, confused. Then it dawns on him that maybe, just maybe-

"You use knives, don't you?"

"Well, technically speaking I just use weapons, but yeah. Knives are my specialty. And axes are slow. That's about the only thing I won't use if I don't have to. But, if you don't want to make a knife, I can use a sword well enough." I really don't want Daniel to go through too much trouble to make me a weapon. And knives can be hard to craft if they're meant to be thrown, because if they're even a little unbalanced, they're accuracy goes down. Like, way down. As in unpredictable and dangerous to anyone within three meters on either side of the target.

"No problem, I'll make you a knife. I'm also going to assume that you put more emphasis on speed than strength when you fight, is that correct?"

Damn, this kid is good.

"Yeah, I do. Thanks… and it'll work to be thrown?"

Ah, the kicker. I'm not interested if I can't throw it, because even though I'm fast, if some idiot with a strong arm or stupidly good weapon hits me, I'm not toast, I'm burnt to embers.

I look at him with great interest, not letting it show in my face. If he can pull this off, I'll be set for life! Or until the knife breaks. Whichever comes first. So really, not set for life, but who cares!

"Yeah, I can make it a throwing weapon. Well, thanks for talking to me! I'll see what I can make for you!"

And he runs off. I don't even get a chance to tell him thanks or that he doesn't need to thank me for letting him make something for me. Or talking to him, for that matter. He's intelligent, unlike some similar looking people in this caravan. Like, for a "random example," his brother.

I look around at the scenery. There isn't really a whole lot to look at here, but that's fine. There will be once we get to Nevassa. I've always loved Daein, even though it went weird in the Mad King's War…

Hold on. Did I say when we get to Nevassa? I meant to say I didn't I? I can't consider myself part of this group. I can't keep feeling things for people, except hate or mutual respect, if I want to make it back to Jessob.

Jessob, I hope you're okay.

I still remember when I met him. He was trying to pick my pocket, the brat. I caught him and took him into an alley, then demanded he tell me his name and where his parents were. He just stared at me, tears running down his face. I took him with me to the inn where I was staying temporarily, and left him up in the room. When I came back, there were papers everywhere and charcoal was piled next to him. He held up a piece of paper that said, "My name is Jessob. I have no parints or homm. help mee?" I took care of him after that. We came up with signs for each letter of the alphabet and some individual words that he couldn't spell or that we used a lot. I practiced using them too, because we could use them to communicate in a crowd or when we needed to be silent. I think we both needed each other- he needed me to take care of him, and I needed someone to keep me human. It's hard to keep that in perspective, the fact that you're human, when you don't have someone to love. He's the only person I love aside from my mother, and she's dead. I can't afford to care anymore. Caring is dangerous. It kills.

I really do hope that Jessob is okay. Not sure how he's been entertaining himself- probably random pickpocketing- but the rest should have been okay for him to do on his own for as long as I was gone. Besides, usually someone would see the "poor little orphan boy" and he'd go live with them while I would be gone. When I came back, he'd take all the valuables he could carry and we'd disappear, leaving them broke and bewildered. Hilarious, really.

Then again, maybe we shouldn't have laughed so hard. After all, they did take care of him…

"My Goddess, Daniel, it's beautiful!"

Sadly, that's not me. I wish it was, because I've been getting excited thinking about my knife, but it's not. Daniel made a necklace for Aimee to sell in her bargain section, which, when I think about it, has absolutely zero bargains in it. Everything is stupidly expensive, and people pay double what Aimee did to get the goods in the first place. Makes me give her a small amount of respect for pulling it off, but there's no way she could be a stationary shop vendor- even the stupidest sucker catches on eventually, and the worse you rip them off, the sooner you get caught. I'm not making this up either.

"And here you go!"

I kick myself mentally for being startled by somebody who's standing right in front of me before realizing that Daniel is holding out something wrapped in cloth. I take it from him and smile, praying that he didn't make me a bronze knife or something like-

"Oh…" I breathe, stunned. This isn't even a knife, it's a wickedly curved dagger, and it is still a throwing weapon. I can tell just by holding it in my hands that it's perfectly weighted for me, and only me. My own personal weapon, made just for me, to fit my strengths and my style. Not only that, but it's gorgeous. The blade is silver and the handle is ebony with silver inlay and an emerald set in the end of it.

"Daniel, how did you find time to make this? It must have taken hours… and I can't even pay you for it."

"Don't worry about paying for it. I figured I should do something for you, you looked miserable for the last few days and it's kind of an apology for Jorge." He smiles, then says, "I think the emerald goes nicely with your eyes."

Oh Goddess- don't blush don't blush don't blush don't-

"Are you okay?"

Damn it!

"Yeah, I… I'm good. Thank you so much, and… apology accepted."

A few hours after saying my goodbyes- some happy, a few not so much- I find myself wandering the streets of Nevassa. The capital of Daein, the home of the Dawn Brigade, the center of Queen Micaiah's kingdom… or maybe it would be a queendom if she passes the throne down through the female line, who knows. More importantly, who cares? As far as I'm concerned, Nevassa is just a city, albeit one that I have to come back to time and again.

I continue wandering, knowing that I'll find Jessob eventually. After all, he never could resist the opportunity to try and pick my pocket. Again.

And that's when I see the posters.

Author's Note (again): Okay, so maybe posters were a lame way to finish this chapter off, but what can I say? I'm lame. Also, you may have noticed a slight increase in the number of curses I'm using in this fic. It will continue like this until I can get Katja into a more stable place in her life- yes, that sounds a bit therapist-ish to me too- but I will be avoiding certain words because I rated this T and don't know if the "F" or "B" words are acceptable in a T rated fic. Actually, I'm not sure that they're accepted at all on this site. Besides, other than the technically correct use of the word "bastard"- please don't hit the report abuse button! I'll be good, I swear!- they aren't really Katja's style. In case you don't know, that word is actually a term for an illegitimate child. So in real life, I am one! And yes, this term does apply to illegitimate female children as well as male ones. Oh, and by the way, if you are sad or frustrated by this author's note... it wasn't a coincidence that my bracket comment followed by a colon makes a sad face.