Working tirelessly... the stench of the home was enough to make her dizzy. The outside? Hot and blazing. Farm animals just wandering, and then the damn kitchen.

"When the hell did he ever... usar este maldito espacio..." she muttered under her breath, drained.

Ever since Catalina's parents made her work for the rich trader, she hadn't felt too confident in her loyalty to her own blood. So much for "experience in the field for a better life." It was obvious there was nothing else she could try. Her parents just wanted a share of the money.

But writing as a job? Far-fetched. That's what she wanted... something she'd actually enjoy doing...

Instead, here Catalina was, crouched down, trying to find the damn pots and pans that hadn't been used in years. Just stored and taking up space.

This "family"... well it was a one man living situation that wasn't noble, but he was rich. The farm, the trading... she could get more if she asked. But would he really offer?

She sighed, took the cookware out, and brought them to the big wooden bucket she'd prepared. Water, hot. Soap, ready. She started to scrub them all dull, and dusty. "No one ever cleaned these, I guess." She muttered as she brushed one with a worn bristle.

Eventually done, her eyes darted across the long field, eyeing the barn in the distance. It looked... so big.

She wasn't allowed there, Not ever. She knew better than to break the rules...

After going back inside and cleaning the whole kitchen, she heard a horse's neigh through the door.

She flinched. Immediate recognition.

"Ah... por el amor de Dios. He's here..." She sighed, brushing sweat and stray hairs from her bangs. She undid her hair band and walked to the front door.

Only the horse was there.

"Hm..." She walked out and petted the animal. Big and calm, as usual. It only liked her and its owner. Anyone else, and they'd be getting kicked on their asses.

"Good boy," she muttered, patting its neck as it gave a small shake of its head. The heat was unbearable.

She strode past it, heading to get some water. The bucket by the side of the house was there but...

It looked murky... red, even?

Maybe it was nothing. Just her imagination, the exhaustion catching up. She bent down, dipped her hand inside, and pulled out a rag. Faded red... more pink than crimson. Like the color had bled right out of it.

Vieira's heart stopped for a second.

Her eyes drifted up to the barn. The door still ajar.

She stood up and jogged toward it.

"I shouldn't... I might get in trouble." But her body moved on its own. She reached the door, pushed it open, and saw the mess.

Footsteps on the dirt. Dried blood drops.

"Sir...?!" she called, her voice trembling, the humid barn air wrapping around her like a wet cloth. Tools on the walls. Hay everywhere. The scent of iron.

She heard a grunt.

Of course. Him.

"Ay, Dios mío..." she hissed under her breath, furrowing her brows. He was always reckless. She knew how much he valued his trade goods, and knew damn well how angry he got when anyone laid hands on them.

Her eyes wandered, then caught a rustle in the hay.

She rushed over.

He was laying flat on his back, a hand pressing a cloth to his side. Her eyes widened. She dropped to her knees beside him.

"Que paso..." Vieira's voice stammered. Horror. This was bad. If he died- No. She couldn't think like that.

She knew how to help. She'd done this plenty of times. Her brothers were always getting into fights. Worse than this. She could patch him up.

"Okay... just... please, keep your eyes open. I'll go get-" she started to rise, but his hand gripped her wrist.

A last plea. Maybe unconscious. Maybe not. But it made her freeze.

His hat was still on, tilted low.

She felt her heart sink.

"Fine... fine. I'll help with what I have here..." she muttered, biting her lip. She looked down at her dress—sighed—and ripped off a strip of fabric.

She replaced the cloth beneath his calloused hand and pressed it tight to the wound.

"Please live. God, you're paying me to work here, Jesus," she whispered, eyes flicking up to his face.

They were closed.

She swatted his shoulder. "Estúpido! keep your eyes open, please..." Her voice cracked. Her other hand reached to lift his hat away, revealing his face. She trailed her palm across his forehead.