So I'm being asked to keep a secret. And my life's being threatened. Great. None of that's very new, not even novel enough for me to really bat an eye as I continue walking toward the sound of a voice familiar to me after Halloween night those few weeks ago. It's deeply familiar now. I know that I've only known it for months, but it feels like it's been years, mired now in a bunch of confused, resurfaced memories of my childhood. Like she's wedged herself in there, a stubborn stain that won't come out, even if I think sometimes that she probably would want out of my head. Probably doesn't want to have connections at all.

She seems like that type.

"Relax, Catnip," I say as I see her now while I round a tree. "I ain't got no one to tell who'd even care about the fact that some random girl on the island sings. I'm pretty sure most random girls on the island sing."

As I draw closer, I notice what's in her hands, my expression immediately turning dark. Because, really.

What the hell?

"Sonuvabitch," I mutter as I hurry on over, half a mind to tug the rope away from her altogether. "The hell're you tyin' a noose for?"