It was late September in the deep mountains. A young woman in a snug dress and an older lady stood before a nameless grave.
The young woman, Hazel Jones, was born into the Murphy family of Norburgh. However, she was given to the wrong family due to a mistake at the hospital 16 years ago.
Just a week ago, the Murphys located her. Today, they were here to bring her back to the city.
Catherine Jones shifted her gaze from the tombstone to Hazel. "Let's start heading downhill. The Murphys will arrive shortly. Once you're back in the city, you'll be recognized as an Murphy. It's time to leave the past behind."
"Okay, Grandma. You go ahead. I'd like to stay a little longer," Hazel replied.
Catherine took one last glance at the tombstone, let out a sigh, and said, "Don't keep them waiting."
Hazel stood alone, silently gazing at the nameless tombstone.
Suddenly, she heard rustling in the woods behind her and glanced up. Something was stirring among the trees and approaching her.
Turning around cautiously, she caught the glint of sunlight on her long eyelashes. A figure dressed in dark camouflage dashed out from the woods, stirring a heavy scent of blood into the air.
The tall man had camouflage paint on his face, making it hard for Hazel to see his features. Yet, she spotted a flag on his right arm.
Meanwhile, Hazel could still hear rustling sounds from the woods behind him.
George Grant hadn't expected to run into anyone in these desolate mountains. With a growl, he cautioned, "It's dangerous here. You should go!"
Drained of energy, he stumbled and collapsed before Hazel. He lay motionless, his blood staining the grass beneath him.
Hazel frowned. The smell of blood was overpowering, leading her to believe that George had likely lost consciousness due to excessive bleeding. He might not survive if she didn't act fast to stop the bleeding. Suddenly, two men dressed in light camouflage suits emerged from the woods.
The first man, Edwin Elrod, who had curly hair, spoke in Terranish, "There's a woman over here!"
The second man, Albert Barlowe, had a crew cut and thick lips. He glanced at Hazel and said, "Let's take her with us."
It seemed that Albert hadn't seen a woman in a while. His gaze turned lustful as soon as he laid eyes on Hazel.
Hazel's heart pounded. She had lived in this borderland for 11 years and was aware of its dangers, but this situation was new.
Despite her anxiety, she silently thanked her lucky stars that Catherine had gone down the mountain before her.
Hazel calmly looked at the weapons they were holding, then spoke in standard Terranish, "Please don't harm me. I'm just a villager."
Albert stepped forward, using the barrel of his gun to lift Hazel's chin. Her face was beautiful and soft. He imagined that touching her would be pleasant.
He licked his lips and grinned. "Miss, you speak Terranish quite well. Come with us. I'll take you everywhere and we'll live a good life."
Hazel fixed her gaze on the ominous gun barrel, her throat tight with fear. "Fine, just please don't hurt me. I'll do whatever you say. I'll pack my things and go with you right away."
Her timid response only fueled Albert's dark intentions. He smirked with a hint of malice. "Since you're so agreeable, let's begin with making me happy!"
Edwin chimed in with a similarly unsettling laugh.
Albert dropped his weapon and seized Hazel's right hand, pulling her close.
Quick as lightning, Hazel ran her left hand along the side of her tight dress, revealing a silver needle between her fingers. She then thrust the needle into Albert's ST 9 acupuncture point.
Albert froze, his head dropping to meet Hazel's icy gaze. The fear that had been in her eyes moments before was now gone.
Edwin sensed trouble and muttered curses under his breath. He pointed his gun at Hazel but hesitated to shoot, fearing he might hit Albert instead.
Once Albert fell unconscious, Hazel shoved him aside and rolled swiftly toward the tombstone. She grabbed a handful of white powder from a basket and flung it at Edwin.
Edwin hurried to reload his gun, but it was too late. The powder filled the air, and as he breathed it in, his vision blurred. He felt his senses dulling. Within moments, he collapsed unconscious, just like Albert.
The powder Hazel used was her own mix, designed to repel wild animals. Without an antidote, they wouldn't wake up for at least an hour.
Hazel got to her feet and looked down. She noticed that the dress Catherine had tailored for her was stained and ripped from the stones. She frowned, feeling a pang of regret.
Then, she moved closer to check George's injury. He had been shot in the right shoulder blade, and blood was flowing from the wound.
Hazel undid the intricate camouflage uniform George wore and lifted the slit of her dress. Along the edge of the slit, rows of silver needles of various lengths and thicknesses were found.
She picked a few and carefully inserted them into George's acupuncture points, which aided in stopping the bleeding.
Next, she tore off a fabric from her torn dress and used it to bandage George's wound. Unfortunately, given the circumstances, she couldn't remove the bullet.
As George slowly woke up, he felt a numbness in his right shoulder. He was still feeling dazed, but he snapped wide awake when he felt someone's hands on his chest.
Hazel had just finished wrapping a bandage around his wound when George grabbed her right wrist.
"Don't worry I'm just tending to your injury," Hazel reassured him.
George finally got a good look at her face and was surprised. "Hedy?"
Hazel was shocked. She looked at George's face, which was smeared with camouflage paint. Then, she pulled away from his grip and distanced herself.
The name Hedy was known only to the Grant family. Hazel wondered if the person standing before her could be one of the Grants.