Sweat traced trails down Doom's face as he walked purposely down the road. The metal lightning bolt-shaped sign was hazy in the distance and the sun, as if it could disappear if he blinked. Although his destination was set, his mind was awash with the whispers that had reached his ears in recent days. Thaegan is dead, the rumours said. The Ralads have found their tongues; D'Or is inhabited once more. If any of these tales were true, it was likely that Tom could confirm them.

Doom squinted in the sunlight as he walked closer. He stopped for a moment, and his shoulders tensed. A figure was crouched in the dust before the shop, facing away from him. A black bird soared above the stranger, and Doom's eyes narrowed. Black birds often signalled evil, especially in those parts. He softened his footfalls, ready to take the stranger by surprise.

The figure turned, and Doom's fingers tapped the sheath of his sword unconsciously. He should not have been heard, he was too well-practised, and too far away. And yet the figure rose. Doom kept walking, preparing himself for a fight.

The figure, he realized, was a girl— hardly more than a child. She was noticeably small, and her lack of height was only exaggerated by the mass of grey fabric she had cut and tied in a crude approximation of clothing. Grey Guard's clothes, Doom realized. Stained and tattered as they were, they were recognizable.

She folded her arms as he drew nearer. A mass of untamed black hair sat oddly atop her small brown face. Her skin and clothes were smeared with dust and mud. She looked— and smelled, he thought with distaste as he drew nearer— as if she had been unwashed for a long time.

He halted in front of the shop, and the girl took a few hasty steps backwards in front of the door. She was shielding it, he realized with a twitch of his lips. She was slight, but Doom did not overlook her lean, muscled arms, nor the immovable determination on her face.

Her bright eyes lingered on his scars for a moment, and then bore into his own. "Who are you?" Her voice was rough and hoarse for such a tiny creature.

"My name is not of importance to you," Doom drawled. "And names are not needed in Tom's shop."

"And yet, he brands his own everywhere," she appeared to be bored, but she could not disguise the watchful gleam of her eyes. "Besides, you are not in the shop."

"My business is not with you," Doom snapped; he was in no mood to play games. "Now, get out of my way."

"My friends are inside," she said sharply. "I do not wish for them to come to harm."

Doom snorted. "And what makes you think that is my intention?"

The girl merely raised an eyebrow, and a muscle in Doom's jaw tightened.

He was not amused. "Let me through," he growled.

She tossed her hair disdainfully. "No."

"Look, girl," Doom growled, any patience he possessed had disappeared. "You will either move, or I will make you."

The girl stared at him blankly. Anger pulsed dully in Doom's veins, and he put a hand on the sword at his belt, and lifted it a little, so she could see the blade. He had no intention of harming her, but she was certainly in need of a good scare. The circling bird let out a harsh cry. The girl pulled a dagger, quick as a viper. She did not point it at him, but her grip on the handle was strong. She had seen his challenge and she had countered it. He waited as she assessed his size, and the wicked and well-used appearance of his sword. After a long silence, she sheathed her blade with a stony face. Her fingers did not stray from the handle. Doom nodded and let his sword drop back down into the sheath.

"Go in," her voice was like ice. "I will be watching."

Doom did not respond to the threat. He shouldered her aside roughly and entered. The bell tied to the door tinkled merrily, and Tom looked up from where he stood with a man and a boy. The girl slipped in after him, silent as a ghost. Doom nodded briefly and ignored the strangers' girl was tenacious, and Doom could not help but feel a small spark of admiration. This would not be their only encounter, he felt it somehow, in his bones.

Jasmine waited outside of Tom's, and only went back in when Doom entered. Based on her reaction, I believe there must have been an interaction of some sort! This is a rewrite of a piece I published on in 2010 or 2011, called 'Reunited Strangers'.