Qian looked uneasily at the girl.

She sat in the chair with perfect posture, her back straight and her shoulders pushed out. She sat on the edge of her seat, her glassy eyes staring blankly at the wall in front of her. The tea which Qian had offered her sat untouched in its cup.

When Qian realised that FeiFei was sending help to Huang Shi, Qian hadn’t been sure what to expect. She had thought that perhaps, a witch like herself would be sent. Qian had heard of witches with powers other than the ability to communicate with FeiFei. Another thought that had crossed her mind was that FeiFei would send some sort of beast to keep the Wolves away. She had not expected a teenage girl to enter the town.

It was the first time Qian had been able to have a proper look at the girl. She was pale, ghostly pale. Small, and thin, Qian thought she looked like she would blow away with the wind. She wore plain grey clothes but she wore trousers like a man instead of a dress. A blood red cloak was fastened around her neck. Qian had offered to hang it up for her, but she had politely refused.

Even here, in Qian’s own home, she was armed; she had two daggers in her belt and a bow and quiver were propped up against the wall.

Jia. That was her name. The villagers didn’t call her Jia though; they simply called her the Red Riding Hood.

Qian had watched her fight off the Wolves four times. The last of the four times was the previous night. Qian had been in town to see the Red Riding Hood fight with her own eyes. And the Red Riding Hood had certainly lived up to Qian’s expectations. The Red Riding Hood fought with amazing speed. Her arrows seemed to shoot at a never ending flow, striking each of her enemies. Her twin daggers flashed and cut, Jia dodged like she knew the Wolves’ next attack and walked out of the fight unscathed. The Red Riding Hood had killed three of the enemy, injured four and the others had fallen back.

Qian was curious about her. Who was this Jia? And why did FeiFei opt to send her to Huang Shi? Hoping the Red Rider herself would have the answers; Qian invited her to her home the next afternoon.

The Red Riding Hood – Jia – had bowed as she entered Qian’s home in the forest. She quietly sat down, and only made small comments. The two had fallen into an awkward silence; well, awkward for Qian. Jia didn’t seem to notice, or care.

Qian sat in front of Jia, studying the girl carefully. She really only looked about nineteen years of age. Jia continued to stare blankly at the wall and the silence grew heavier.

Qian couldn’t take it any longer.

“Who are you?”
Jia’s gaze switched slowly from the wall to lock onto Qian’s eyes.

“I am Jia. I am one of FeiFei’s warriors,” she said simply.

Confusion crossed Qian’s eyes and her brows furrowed slightly. “FeiFei’s warriors?” she asked.

Jia sighed slightly. “It’s a long story but FeiFei told me I should tell you.” When Jia spoke in a monotone voice.

Qian said nothing.

“Then I’ll start at the beginning,” Jia began, her face clear of emotions.

“I grew up in a fishing village in the east of the country, as a normal human girl. Shortly after my eighteenth birthday I was out fishing with my father, he was a fishmonger.” Qian leaned in slightly, to hear her better. She was slightly unnerved by Jia’s lack of facial expressions. “We went out to fish, and the weather worsened. The seas became choppy and rough before we could get back to the mainland. The boat capsized and we drowned.”

Qian looked confused. “You…drowned?” Qian wasn't sure what unsettled her more: the fact that Jia had drowned or the casual way in whcih she said it.

“After what seemed like hours later, my body lay at the bottom of the sea bed. Of course, after that much time underwater I was dead but I hadn’t moved on. A woman’s face appeared in front of me…”

Jia blinked slowly. “The woman was FeiFei, and she offered me a choice. I could move on to the next life, or I could join her service. I was an ignorant teenager at the time, I feared death more than anything, so I accepted her offer.

"I woke up in a place that was not my hometown. I was in some sort of training camp, a bootcamp. It was almost like training for the army. About fifty of us; fifty of us young adults. We weren’t allowed to communicate with each other. We were constantly patrolled by these creatures – they looked every bit human, but obviously were not. We didn’t even have names; we were simply referred to by the color of our cloaks. It was there we learned how to fight, how to suppress emotions, how to truly serve FeiFei. Every one of us had died and been brought back to life by FeiFei. The guardians insisted the camp was a part of FeiFei's own world. The training was extensive and painful but every one of us walked out a true warrior. Time flowed differently there: I spent at least a hundred years there, but I did not age.”

Jia took a sip of her tea. Qian’s brow furrowed. She wasn't sure if the fact that FeiFei had a small, personal army was comforting or worrying. There was also something sad about Jia’s story but there was another thing bothering her. “What do you mean suppress emotions?”

Jia gave a casual shrug. “FeiFei has no use for a soldier who lets her emotions get in her way. She helps us suppress all our emotions, so we don’t feel anything.” Jia said it casually, as if telling Qian the time. "At the moment, I'm incapable to having emotions.

It took a minute for Qian to process that. And when it did...

For the first time, Qian felt disgusted at FeiFei. To resurrect a human being to do her dirty work, not letting them feel anything was…horrific. Yet Qian had no problem believing the story. Neither FeiFei nor Jia had any reason to lie to her.

“Of course, I can feel if I want to,” Jia put in. Confused, Qian looked up.

The glassy look melted from Jia’s cold eyes. Her eye’s turned dark and warm, turned crescent shaped in a warm smile, a tinge of red touched her pale cheeks. For the first time, she looked truly human. “In a way it’s a form of thought. FeiFei helps us do it, but while we’re here, we don’t necessarily have to banish emotions.” Her voice sounded alive. Previously it had been dull and monotonous, now it sounded clear and confident and content. Qian was amazed by the transformation.

As quick as it happened, Jia reverted back to her cold self. Her color dissolved, her smile disappeared, her eyes turned blank once more.

“If… If you don’t have to suppress your feelings while you are here, why do you?” Qian couldn’t understand.

Jia hesitated for a moment, and just in passing Qian glimpsed the ghost of the girl underneath the forced mask she wore. “Emotions distract you on the battlefield. This way we're constantly on our guard and ready to fight. And also...FeiFei would rather us like this,” she said. “And I owe FeiFei my life.” Jia stood up, wrapping her blood red cloak around her. “Thank you for the tea, Qian.”

Qian was uneasy with Jia, and she was unsure why she made her offer. “Come again tomorrow, if it so suits you.”

Jia gave a curt nod, bowed and left Qian’s cottage.

Jia’s advanced hearing picked up a sound from the forest surrounding the path. She stopped for a moment.

There was someone in the trees. Jia could sense them. Her hand crept down to grasp her dagger. She waited, still as a statue.

The person pounced out of the woods, obviously hoping to take her by surprise. Jia turned around quickly. In a moment she registered a number of things; the person was male, and he was a Wolf.

The Wolf wasn't as big as others Jia had seen. He was smaller and thinner. He wore a tattered and torn roughspun tunic and trousers like the rest of his tribe. He went barefoot. He was carrying an axe that looked too heavy for him. He looked frightened, even though he was the one attacking her. He was no match for Jia.

Jia easily ducked and spun, lashing out with her dagger. The dagger cut into the Wolf’s side and he winced. Jia took this chance to kick him to the ground before leaning over him, dagger at his neck. The axe fell out of his hand.

He looked young, maybe her own age. And he looked afraid.

He knew he was looking into the face of death, and he was terrified of it. He was just as afraid of death as Jia had been when she had nearly drowned.

Jia realised this with a start and for a second, her mask, her mental armour against feelings came down of its own accord. Jia quickly regained her composure, but still hesitated. Not daring to move the dagger from his throat, she asked a question.

“Who are you?”

The fear and suspicion were clear in his voice. “My name,” he said, “is Mir.”