Turning, Sacha clicked the release on his blade, not bothering to wipe it clean before it slid inside his jacket sleeve. He couldn’t stand to look back, though every part of his body knew what lay behind him, his senses oppressing him with the knowledge. So, without a single glance of regret, he hurried for the town’s front gates before anyone saw what he had done.

Out in the open fields surrounded on one side by woods, cold wind tore at Sacha's close fitting clothes. Though he wore a long coat as well, it did little to keep the sudden temperature drop at bay. Not long after the town disappeared from his view did the sun begin to drop beneath the horizon. Snow flurried in the air, nothing like the warmth of the afternoon. Caught completely off-guard, Sacha struggled forward, nowhere near the next city. He couldn't hardly turn back either after what he did. Who would offer a man like him shelter? The wind pulled strands of his long black hair loose from their tie, where they caught in the freezing blood on his cheek. The smell reminded him of reality all too much. Pressing a hand to his ear for a second, he tried to drown out the pounding going on inside his head. It smelled! Damn, he felt like he might throw up. The blood wasn't his of course. That at least gave him some comfort.

The snow only thickened though, falling faster and faster around Sacha until he struggled to see even the line of trees not far away. He forced himself forward even if he shouldn't bother. Except, what else would he do? Something caught his foot however and he pitched forward, plowing into the quickly gathering blanket of snow. Blinking his eyes, he caught sight of a flash of green. The tiny plant stood alone outside the edge of the forest and Sacha couldn’t help but think that it somehow got caught in the storm as well.

"Shall we brave the storm together?" Before he could stop his own stupid, masochistic body, he unbuttoned his coat and swung it to create a tent around him and the plant. Honestly, he didn't know why he did something like this. He was a strong man and capable of surviving a blizzard if need be, but he felt he couldn't do that right now. In reality, he knew exactly why he protected something as insignificant as a plant. He punished himself. After a kill, he always felt hateful toward himself, but today it was especially bad. There had been a child and now that child's blood was on his hands. This was his job though, even if he hated the act of killing, he was a killer for hire. It killed him, but it was the only way of life he knew. So if he punished himself from time to time, it wasn't a big deal.