"You kids have balls."
Alice blinked at the voice. Her hands were still clutching the blood-slicked shaft of her scythe.
"...What the hell just—?"
She looked across the bloody field.
Leon stayed silent; his smirk faded. He wasn't surprised or anything.
"..."
Leon shifted his gaze upward.
Following his line of sight, Alice spotted her too.
A lone figure seated on a dried, crooked tree branch jutting from the ice-cliff wall like a bone.
The branch itself looked brittle, ready to snap under a feather's weight, yet the woman resting there sat with perfect balance.
Her legs crossed loosely over each other, one arm draped over her knee. The faint shine of a blade rested across her waist, catching the light of the ice.
Strands of pale silver hair spilt from beneath her black hood, brushing her shoulders. Even from this distance, those crimson eyes of hers cut through Leon and Alice like a sharp blade.
Leon put back his sword. He recognized the person.
