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A Day in the Life: Helkat

Even over the rhythmic song of his hammer striking the red-hot iron, Rowan Smith could sense Kat entering the shop. Her footfalls were heavy as she crossed the concrete floor and he noted her shadow as it passed through the smoke and light. She was an hour late when the Cathedral bells announced the hour, so by his estimation, she was very nearly an hour and a half late when she arrived. After getting the piece to a place where he could leave it, Rowan put down his hammer and turned towards the shop’s interior.

“You’re late,” he grumbled.

“It ain’t like it fuckin’ matters, Rowan,” Kat called back as she ducked behind a curtain to change into her apron. “You got me on chisels for the masons, like you always do, and they ain’t gonna come pick ‘em up ‘til tomorrow. I’ll have ‘em done whether I am here at seven bells or twelve bells. Then you’ll have me cleanin’ up after you.”

“That isn’t the point, Kat,” Rowan sighed.

The blacksmith knew her story and it helped temper his irritation. She was on her own and had been for nearly three years. She didn’t have to tell him she had faced hardships, and so he put to practice all the patience his art taught him when dealing with her.

“Fuckin’ aye, Rowan. What is the point then?” She huffed as she tossed back the curtain.

The blacksmith opened his mouth to answer her, but his words were lost on a soft gasp as the small, albeit muscular, woman looked up at him. It was hard not to think of her as a child, with her full, round cheeks and bright, sharp eyes, so it was heartbreaking to see them stained with blood and bruises.

“Light, child, were you brawling again, or did someone…”

“Relax,” Kat groaned, waving off his concern. “It was an arranged match. And I ain’t a child. Least that ain’t the story the other guy’s tryna sell round these parts. He’s been tellin’ folks his bout was with a big fuckin’ giant of a man. He’s gotta or he’s gonna be laughed outta the City, gettin’ his ass knocked out in the second round by a girl.”

Rowan could appreciate the woman’s strength, but her love of violence broke his heart. Someone once told her she couldn’t be strong unless she was hard and violent, and now she embraces only that as her identity. She stands with her shoulders straight and pulled back so she could balance the chips on them. She didn’t have to smile to be pretty, but he wondered if she still knew how to express joy. The anvil upon which she was forged, hammered by tragedy and pain, was one that turned out a hardened woman who feared and loathed any softness that once brought balance to her life. Rowan was the only son in a family of twelve, and with his wife, he had only daughters, so in Kat, he saw effortlessly through the front she fought to maintain.

Of course, he couldn’t let onto that.

“Right. Well, the point is, when I tell ya to be here at seven, I expect you to be here. Anyone you ever work for, will expect you to be on time. I am relying on you, Kat. Sure, I got you sharpening axes and chisels most the time, but its work that needs done. And cleanin’ up, well, until I can hire another kid to do it, I need you to. We’ve been busy and what you are doing is just as important as anything else. Next week, I gotta get you to help me make hinges. They’ve got a new garrison going up in Westfall, so the order’s big. We just need to get through the mason contract this week and they must take care of their own chisels this fall while the garrison is getting fitted out. Alright? I need you here, Kat.”

For just a moment he could see the softness she hated in her eyes, and he just looked away while it passed. She tried to hate him sometimes, and he knew it. Rowan also knew he wasn’t the source of her hatred but simply the focus. Kat wanted to hate him for the ways he reminded her of her father. She wanted to loathe him for the ways he was gentle with her and the way he made her feel vulnerable. Those were the times when she would lash out, so Rowan learned fast how best to let her burn out.

“Now get to it. Don’t be late again,” he grunted before she could say a word.

She was still angry, but at least it was anger she chose. She made a gesture and rolled her eyes before stomping to her station. Her reaction brought a sigh of relief from Rowan, though. She was a woman who saw things in shades of rage, and while he wanted her to find happiness, he respected her perspective.

-

At five bells, the streets of the laboring districts flowed with workers who had been released for the day. All manner of makers and civil servants marched out to the canals and beyond to the hovels and houses they called home. Harris Pent blended in perfectly among them.

However, Harris wasn’t like them.

The crowds were all retreating from their jobs, but the pale, lanky northerner would argue he was just starting his work for the day. He passed between people with a soft grunt of apology when he bumped into them and focused on the horizon with the same tired stare, but in truth he was neither sorry nor tired. Every time he contacted another person; his wage increased. His deft fingers found loose coins and unattended jewelry as easily as others found solid footing on the cobbled streets. He could pick pockets and locks with his eyes closed.

However, he was suddenly reminded that it was a bad idea to do so.

His fingers dipped into a vest pocket as he bumped into small woman, but when he tried to remove it, bounty in hand, he felt a vice close around his wrist. The small figure twisted his arm awkwardly and slammed him into the nearby wall. He put on a charming smile, but it melted as he found those olive-hazel gaze locked on him.

“Helkat! I was—”

“Save it, shit head. What the fuck did I tell ya about robbin’ workin’ folks,” Kat hissed, still holding his arm painfully to the side.

“I was only picking out the rich looking ones!”

Her brows dropped and her lips pursed, and the deadpan expression inspired the man to squirm and think about his words. When Harris realized his mistake, he started talking again.

“Okay! Fine. I’m sorry, hun. It is really hard getting close to those rich pricks, though. I need to eat.”

“Then get a fuckin’ job,” Kat snapped. She let go of his wrist and made sure her lighter was still in her pocket. “Takin’ money from these folks only hurts ‘em. Stick it to the fuckin nobles, or start huntin’ for a job like the rest of us.”

“Right. Sorry, Helkat.”

Kat only grunted in response as she pulled out a cigarette case and pulled one free. As soon as it was tucked into her pierced lips, she could sense the question on her companion’s tongue and offered him as well. She used the lighter he tried to steal to light both of their smokes and started towards Old Town again.

“When did you eat last?” She asked gruffly.

Harris paused to give it some thought. If she was anyone else, he would give a sob story to get some free food and maybe some cash. However, he liked Kat. She was humble and smart. She was a survivor. She was his only real friend, and she meant a lot to him.

Kat was anything but ‘anyone else.’

“This morning. I conned breakfast out of a cute Night Elf. She’s clearly new to the city, but I didn’t rob her.” He added the last bit quickly and defensively, earning a dry huff of amusement from his companion.

“Let’s go get somethin’ to eat. I got paid today so I can get yours,” she nodded as she directed them down the alleys to the Pig and Whistle. “I need you to do something for me, though.”

“Yea? What’s up? Wait. You aren’t going to ask me to beat up the guy who did that to you, are you?”

For a tall man, Harris could move quick, evading the anticipated slap from Kat as he snickered about the joke he could only share with her.

“No, you fuck,” she snorted in reply, cracking a wan smile. “No. I need ya find me another fight, actually. You did real good last time. It was a bit of a challenge, but the bids were against me. I need another one like that so I can get out of the shit hole I am livin in.”

“Don’t you think you should lay low for a bit? People were pretty upset last night about losing all that money on a ‘sure thing’. You have a lot of people angry at you. If you take another fight and flip the table, you may get yourself killed.”

His concern was genuine, and even though she scowled at him, he expressed it. It was his one act of defiance with her. He cared and he wasn’t going to stop caring even if he knew they would only ever be friends.

“Look, I get it and I welcome anyone to fuckin’ try, but Harris, I’ve been squattin’ in that place for over a year and I think people are catchin’ on that it ain’t empty. The lock I put in’s got scratches on it, like someone tried to pick it. I gotta get out because I can’t live like that. So, find me a fight. Head out to Redridge if you can. I’ll give you the coin to rent a horse so you don’t gotta walk.”

Harris was quiet as he took the last drag off his cigarette and tossed the spent end to the cobbles with a defeated sigh.

“Alright. I’ll see what I can do. Give me four days. I’ll have something for this coming weekend.”

“Great. Now, lets get something to eat. I’m starvin’!”

“You’re always starving,” Harris laughed as he jogged ahead to get the door for her.

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Hours later, Kat stumbled drunk up the exterior access to the second floor of the butcher shop on the canals. The stairs were handy from a rear alley, so she never had to worry about guards questioning her ascent to the abandoned apartment on the second story. The whole building had made the front page of the local paper when it had been gutted by rioters a few years before Kat moved to Stormwind, and while the butcher had restored the shop, he left the second floor in a sorry state. The floor was weak, and the windows had their glass replaced with boards. The walls were burnt in places and the whole area smelled of smoke even years later. However, Kat didn’t mind. It was free and it was home.

“Hey, Kat, you gonna be alright?” Harris slurred as his companion came to stop at the door.

“Shut up,” she hissed, sounding instantly sober.

Her key was still in hand, never touching the lock, but with her free hand she pushed the door open easily. As the light of the moon reflected off the shattered lock, the man also found a bit of foul clarity.

“Oi, Kat, maybe we don’t go…”

Before Harris could finish, she was already storming across the room. He surveyed the flat in her wake and knew instantly that the culprits were no longer there. It was a smash and grab, and they left very little of the sparse space untouched.

“Shit. I’m sorry,” he sighed. Harris felt a bit of guilt knowing he had taken part in robberies like this in the past. It was a very different experience to be on this side of things.

“Just…head back to your place,” Kat rumbled without turning to look at him. “I gotta see if they got in my stashes and I’ll find an inn room. It’s fine. Go on.”

“You sure? You can stay with me…”

“Go on, Harris. I need to get shit and get out.”

With a heavy heart, the man nodded and turned to head out. As he went, he did his best to pull the door closed. The lock and latch were both broken, so it didn’t stay closed, but it offered Kat a bit of privacy.

When she was certain she was alone, she dropped to her knees. Tears were streaming down her face and her face was red with the effort it took not to scream. She could see from where she had been standing that her two cash stashes were empty and the stash, she kept in the floor was untouched but the items within held no value to anyone but her. Kat arrived in Stormwind nothing and she fought tooth and nail for the small piece of the world she had carved out for herself. But now she had nothing again.

Worse though was that she chose that drafty, broken house of nothing over Home. She wouldn’t accept defeat. She dragged herself onto the tossed mattress, collected her blankets around her, and clung to the hammer under her pillow. She defiantly and definitively chose nothing.

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