No one in town listened to the cries of an orphan. When Robin's parents had first died, bodies cold and hard as the dirt that was shoveled onto them, the villagers quickly left, running from the site of death. Only Cat had stayed. Robin's hands had been numb, the wind whipping around him, tears freezing on his cheeks. He was at the village well, and everyone could hear him, but no one came.

But the villagers now were hardened from the previous winter, given a dose of what it felt like to be truly afraid, so when Robin screamed, Jimmy was the first to burst in.

The town mayor was dressed haphazardly, his blue tie askew, his shirt sleeves stained, his vest ruffled, as if he'd just run across the village. His gaze darted towards Robin and Cat curled in the corner first, then he blanched when his eyes landed on the green cloth on the ground. Everyone knew Cornelius always wore a bright green cloak, and that he cherished it even more than Jack cherished his potatoes.

Even before Jimmy said anything, Robin felt a spoil of dread unraveling in his stomach. He watched as Jimmy looked wildly between them, the wall, the house, and the ground, at that one ripped piece of green fabric and the stain of blood. The villagers would come, and they would worry, and they would be suspicious.

Who ever trusted the world of an orphan and an outsider?

When Robin and Corpse stumbled out of the house an hour later, the smoke had already filled the air, filling everyone's lungs as their breathing hitched in fear only to cough. Robin's eyes watered and Cat struggled to breathe as they staggered towards the campfire, arms looped around each other. It scared Robin to hear Cat's coughs wrack his whole body. It scared him to see his best friend and the person he'd always relied on so weak. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

The other villagers were at the campfire already, huddled around the fire and looking nervously into the dark wood at their backs. They were talking in low voices, and their eyes narrowed when Robin and Cat approached. Cat stood up taller as they neared the fire and Robin felt a pang of worry. Even now, Cat was trying to help Robin instead of helping himself. He tried to give Cat a seat on one of the logs, next to Miles, but Cat made him sit instead. They held hands for a second longer before Cat pulled away, feeling the logs to find his way to a new spot.

"Helga," Cat said, his voice hoarse and difficult to hear as the others kept talking, "could you stay with me tonight? My partner was just murdered."

Robin rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them by the fire. Even now, Cat still didn't want to live with him. Why Cornelius? Why Helga? He was only dimly aware that Bob's mouth was moving as he looked at Cat. Cat had been the only one there, so he seemed suspicious. Robin couldn't let anything happen to Cat.

"Shut your mouth, shrimpy!" Helga was yelling at Bob. The villagers clamored over each other for a minute, their nerves on a wire, still afraid.

"I was just going to say," Bob shouted over everyone, "I was awake all night, and I don't think... I don't think Catboy is blind."

There was a moment of silence. "Don't believe anything shrimpy says," Helga said dismissively, still glaring at Bob. "Small brain, small shrimp."

For a second, Robin relaxed. Helga was defending Cat, even in her scanty clothes and fractured reputation. He thought briefly of the jam on cookies she'd made at her wedding, the sweet tartness making him pucker his mouth and steal more to eat under the table. Then, he inhaled again, and the sickeningly strong aroma of cedar and lavender flushed the memory away.

"Now, listen to me," she continued, and Robin shivered suddenly. "There is one person who hasn't talked at all this entire time." She looked at all of them, watery brown eyes focused. They landed on Robin and didn't move.

"Me?" Robin's hands shook. He'd failed to warm them up. Their eyes were all on him, accusing, and it was worse than if they'd immediately clapped him in chains.

"An orphan child is always the most annoying thing in a village, and you haven't been annoying at all today," Helga warbled, her high voice distorted in Robin's mind. His heartbeat was so loud.

"Calm down, wench, the boy did nothing," Cat snarled, but the villagers had begun speaking again. Robin shook, but looked at Cat. He was grateful to have met Cat those two years ago, was grateful to have Cat as a father figure.

"Listen up, all of you," Jimmy said, eyeing all of them. "After the last mayor vanished, I stepped up to restore some order." He got off his log and stood in front of Cat, the pendant askew on his vest. "I think you got rid of our wise old man Cornelius because you knew he would figure you out." Robin's breath hitched and he choked on the smell again. His throat burned and he wiped away the tears before they spilled over his cheeks.

"It makes sense," Miles spoke up from next to Robin. "They were in the same house."

How had it all gone wrong so quickly? Robin should have known that Helga's word wouldn't be enough. She was the most well-known in the town, but she'd accused Robin. She was the mayor's wife, but that was a facade. Her word couldn't possibly mean as much as Jimmy's, or even Miles'.

"You're all right. It could definitely be me," Cat murmured, looking down. Robin felt something in him fracture. He trusted Cat, and he knew that Cat wouldn't kill someone. But did he really know that? Did he even know what Cat had done before coming to the town? There was no way. There was no way.

He didn't sleep at all that night, and neither did Bob. Robin listened to the sound of a distant pickaxe at work, the sound of a prison cell being built, the sound of coming death.

In the early morning, he heard them come for him.