The lone statue

[Matías]

The courtyard was nearly empty now, save for the last few stragglers. He’d been lost in thought, pondering something the priest said, when a flicker of movement drew his eye. Someone slipped past the gates. His gaze tracked them instinctively, the old habits never far from the surface.

Then he saw her.

“Marta!” The name escaped before he could check it, called in warm, surprised Spanish that felt strange on his tongue after the evening. “¿Eres tú?”

He had met her once before at St. Basil’s. A quiet, nervous young woman with eyes that held more years than her age. She’d had that beloved creature with her then, too. Seeing her again brought an unexpected steadiness to his heart until he realized she was in unusual company.

Matias slowed his steps, the heavy tread of his shoes crunching with each step. The first man was moving away through the gate, his presence oddly distinct even from this distance. The other stood beside Marta, watchful, but nonetheless poised. A guardian, he hoped, but give his past, he considered far more sinister relationships.

Still, the hour, the cold, the company. It stirred a protective instinct he had no real right to experience other than the blunt fact that he did.

As he approached, his voice shifted back to English. “You shouldn’t be outside so late,” he said, though his tone carried more concern than rebuke. His gaze flicked between the two men briefly before settling back on Marta. “You’re all right?”

The service animal watched him with those tracker eyes, and Matias gave the creature a respectful nod before looking to Marta again.