A baggage, she is!

With caution, he began to move slowly toward the source of the noise, unsheathing his knife and holding it in front of him. Every step was deliberate, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger.

The rhythm of the thuds intensified, two thuds followed by a momentary pause, then three more thuds, each growing louder and more pronounced.

His grip tightened on the hilt of the knife as he finally arrived near the door leading to the adjoining room. Taking a deep breath, he pressed his ears against the door, his whole being focused on discerning any faint whisper or movement beyond.

Silence enveloped the air, broken only by the sound of his steady breathing. The anticipation was palpable as he strained to hear even the slightest hint of what lay beyond that door.

Time seemed to stretch as he waited, his mind filled with a mixture of apprehension and determination.

Then, as if in response to his presence, the thuds resumed with a deliberate pattern. Four thuds, then a brief pause, followed by five more. The rhythmic pattern echoed in the confines of the room, sending a chill down Azrael's spine.

Without hesitation, he pushed open the door, his senses on high alert. The room came into view, dimly lit and shrouded in shadows. His gaze swept across the space, searching for any signs of movement or the source of the thuds.

And there, in the corner of the room, he saw it. A figure, huddled on the floor, broken and bound, clad in tattered garments and emanating an aura of exhaustion and despair.

It was not a Witch, but rather a wounded and broken individual. Her pointy ears poked through her dirty hair, which fell in disheveled strands around her face. Her head hung low, her chest rising and falling in the rhythm of her breathing.

The girl raised her head and looked at him, her eyes filled with fear and desperation.

He felt...complicated. He thought the girl was held as a prisoner, but seeing the room made him think of otherwise.

It was even better than the one he just came from. With patterned floors and walls and the aroma, the fruit tray on the table, and a bed made of straws and soft furs.

It was not a dungeon, and yet the girl was not free.

Azrael crouched down beside her, his heart full of sympathy. He knew the feeling all too well, the feeling of being trapped, of not having a choice, of being helpless and powerless.

He had been there once, and it was the worst feeling he had ever experienced.

The girl stared at him with big blue eyes, her gaze uncertain as she searched his face for any signs of aggression or malice.

"Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you," he said softly.

He slowly reached out and moved her hair strands from her eyes. The big blue crystals jerked back in his touch.

"Do you want to be saved or not?"

"Saved?" she asked, her voice a raspy whisper, almost too faint to hear.

"Yes, saved. I can help you escape."

The girl blinked, her expression perplexed. Then she jerked back again. "You're lying. It must be it. Humans always lie and deceive. She must've sent you to test me. Just like last time, right?"

She gave a dry laugh, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Azrael shook his head. "I'm not lying, and I don't give a shit about helping you out. I'm here and I have slain the evil witch. I can save you if you want or I can leave you here. Your choice."

As he spoke, he could see the flicker of hope and doubt warring within the girl's eyes. She had been betrayed before, her trust shattered by the cruelty of others. It pained him to witness the scars of her past etched so deeply into her soul. Just like him.

His words hung in the air, the weight of the decision resting upon her fragile shoulders. The room filled with an unbearable silence, the anticipation of her response intertwining with the heaviness of their shared past.

She locked eyes with him for a few moments, then flicked her head to the side.

His brows furrowed and his eyes twitched. "Okay, your choice." He patted his thighs and stood up and hummed before slowly walking to the door, taking the fruit basket with him. "Ah, by the way," he stopped and looked at her. "There are wolves in this part of the woods. Now that the witch is dead, they might swarm you. Be careful, okay?" He winked at her before proceeding to the table with the book.

He had deliberately left the doors open so that she to watch him and his pillaging of the witch's hut.

As he rummaged through the witch's belongings, he could feel the girl's gaze burning into his back. He knew she was watching him, studying his every move. He couldn't help but feel a strange mixture of amusement and satisfaction, knowing that he had piqued her curiosity.

He plucked a shiny red apple from the basket and held it in his hand, his gaze lingering on the girl. With a lighthearted smile, he extended his arm towards her, offering the fruit. However, she quickly averted her gaze, refusing to meet his eyes.

Azrael chuckled softly, amused by her shyness. He brought the apple to his lips and took a bite, relishing the satisfying crunch as he savored the sweet juiciness. The sound echoed in the room, a small moment of shared presence between them, even in silence.

He examined the various trinkets and potions scattered across the table, his fingers tracing their surfaces.

The scent of herbs and magic filled the air, adding an otherworldly aura to the room. He selected a few items that caught his attention, carefully placing them in a ragbag he found.

Turning around, he faced the girl once more. She remained silent, her eyes still fixed upon him. Azrael couldn't help but offer her a mischievous smile, a hint of playfulness dancing in his gaze.

"I'm afraid I must be on my way," he declared, his voice laced with mock regret. "But don't worry, I'm sure we'll meet again someday. Until then, stay safe and watch out for those wolves. They can be quite feisty."

With a final wave of his hand, Azrael strode towards the door, his footsteps echoing through the room. He glanced back one last time, his eyes meeting hers briefly before he stepped out of the door.

"Wait!!"

He smiled at the sound. He was sure she would call him sooner or later.

Azrael turned back, a smirk playing on his lips as he looked at the girl. "Yes? Is there something else you need?"

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching his face. "Can you...untie me?" she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

"What? I can't hear you." He pressed on the back of his ear and leaned in closer, feigning confusion. "Sorry, my hearing isn't what it used to be. Did you say 'untie me'?"

The girl's eyes widened, her voice growing more desperate. "Please...untie me. I don't want to be trapped here anymore."

He again asked her. "What? Can you say it loudly?"

Azrael's teasing smile widened as he continued to play with the girl's request. He knew very well what she was asking, but he relished in making her struggle for her words.

"Please!" she pleaded, her voice filled with desperation. "Untie me! I want to be free!"

Azrael chuckled, enjoying the girl's desperation. He walked towards her and reached into his pocket, retrieving a small knife. With a swift motion, he cut the ropes binding her wrists and ankles, setting her free. The girl rubbed her wrists. Relief was evident on her face.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice filled with gratitude.

Azrael nodded, a flicker of something resembling empathy crossing his eyes. "You're welcome," he replied, his tone surprisingly gentle.

The girl was baggage as she's now. Sure, he can bring her to the village and even sell her, but that only means too much work. He could rather travel and reach Thrawn with that time.

He felt sympathy seeing her bound and betrayed. That was all there was.

As the girl watched him with a mix of confusion and wariness, Azrael turned away. His expression hardened once more. He couldn't afford to let sentimentality cloud his judgment. He had a mission to fulfill, and any distractions would only hinder him.

"I hope our paths never cross again," he repeated, his voice firm and final. With that, he started walking, disappearing into the open door of the hut without looking back. The girl sat there, rubbing her hand in pain. Her freedom now mingled with a sense of abandonment. "Jerk."