Fine. If it means you'll leave me be: Don't know.
Don't look at me like that. I don't mean I forgot.
First was a pursuer something about fifty yards off. We were sloppy. Squad was caught. Planted my feet, drew to cheek, and knocked him off his horse. Couldn't confirm. They raised their mugs slapped my back that night, anyway.
Second was similar. Arrowshot into the distance, watched him fall. Never got close enough to see if he stopped breathing. Another night of toasts and cheers.
Third settled it once and for all. Right up close. Knife to throat. He didn't even know what was happening. Loud. Messy. Long...
That was the last toast for my first kill. They made fun of me for it. "Tressym might not have most kills but she has the most first kills!", "You needed two do-overs?" Some... more crude than others. All sorts. I never asked them to celebrate even the once, but they ribbed me for it anyway.
So, no. I don't know. Could have been the horseman, a man taking a piss in the woods, or the kid who gurgled on cobble. Or maybe it was a naïve little girl who thought someone might save her, and cried herself to sleep when they didn't. Doesn't matter. It all feels the same and we all die the same.
Want some advice, though? Don't ask that of someone. I answered because if I didn't you would keep on.
And every time you ask... I remember.