*Author's note: If you are not familiar with Ahri's Lore, I suggest you go to the League of Legends site and give it a glance*

43 years old, wrinkled face, graying goatee and baggy eyed. Sitting down on a bar stool with drink in hand, his eyes peruse the patrons. His gaze landing on half clad wenches, and then quickly diverting whenever his stare was meet. It had been another long day, another shoe crafted and another foot protected. This protection is from either the fields or the road but it's most likely not to anywhere worthwhile. All the patrons here were regulars and it seemed like life was a wheel, turning in place, over the very same spokes, day after day. Today he was at the bar, yesterday he was at the bar and tomorrow he will also be at the bar, at least until she came.

A cloaked woman tried to discreetly enter the establishment. It failed. In seemingly the middle of nowhere, everyone knew everyone, and strangers stick out like a sore thumb. She sat beside him.

"What will it be miss?" asked the bartender.

"Cider, please."

He poured the golden brown liquid into the large wine glass meant for the female clientele. It was the current chic.

"Hiding from someone?" the sitting man asked.

The woman took a long drink with both hands, placed the glass down and wiped her mouth.

"From everyone."

"Well, it may seem that our quaint little town is a nice haven for you miss, but I'm afraid that no stranger comes in without every eye taking note and at least two days of gossip to take place. Are you alone? It may seem pleasant and safe, but I know one or two shady rascals that would gladly steal a baby's rattle if only they could sell it. And if they ever had the chance." He said looking around the bar, "even worse."

He then glanced at her for the first time. Her dark hair covered half of her face and three, what seemed to be scars, laid across her cheek, giving her an animal like appearance. "I can take care of myself."

She took out some rolled up tobacco and snapped. Blue flame emerged from her delicate forefinger. With it, she lit the stick, took a long drag and lightly blew smoke in the man's face. Her soft rose lips in contrast with her marble white skin looked like an apple resting on the snow. At this point, the man felt uncomfortable. Perhaps it was because he, like many others around these parts, didn't trust magic. Perhaps it was because his trousers were getting tight. Either way he smelt trouble. He then tipped his hat.

"Well I hope you the best Miss, in whatever your business in these parts are." Her eyes then looked downcast and she turned to the bar, extinguishing the tobacco with her fingers.

"I hope the same."

The man spied a couple of his friends at a nearby table. He walked over and was greeted with enthusiastic handshakes and cheers. He later felt he shouldn't have left that girl alone, that maybe for once, he could have broken the norm and talked to outsider. Three hours later he left the bar, ready for the wheel of his life to turn to another predictable spoke.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

The man was about to pass the outhouse when he heard some shuffling behind the tavern. It could have been a badger, or an opossum. Then again, that sounded like a big badger. Walking over, he saw in the moonlight a man pinning someone underneath him. Frank Foely could have been recognized anywhere from his raggedy patched up jacket and his torn up denims, now crumpled at his feet. The twice convicted thief was notorious for conning men from their purse and harassing the local farm girls. The man's blood turned red as he strode to Frank and yanked him up by his collar. Looking down on the victim he saw the girl from the bar. He was about to end Frank's miserable life until the girl put a finger to her lips and pointed to Frank. The man didn't notice that Frank was as limp as a ragdoll and he looked into his eyes. They were milk white, his skin was ghost pale, and Franks lips were dark blue. The cobbler's throat knotted up in fear as he dropped Frank. The girl stood up and pulled over her cloak.

"Carry him for me," she commanded.

The man, not knowing what he should do in this situation, did as she said and followed her through the wheat fields and towards the great Serpentine River. Not a word was said as they walked under the full moon, their shadows like sharks, hiding under a sea of wheat. When they reached a forest, the girl raised her hand in the air and from it appeared an eerie blue orb of light. Now it seemed like they were walking in an underwater cave, the silence made it almost dreamlike. They finally reached the river and the man threw Frank's lifeless body onto the shore.

"What did you do to him?" he demanded. The girl grimly turned her cloak covered head towards him.

"I drained his essence."

"You what!" the man exclaimed. "You aren't going to do the same to me are you?"

The girl lightly smiled. "Not unless you kiss me." She then blew a cheeky kiss in his direction.

"Why are we here then?"

"I made a deal with king of this domain. I bring him a hundred bodies and he cures me of my need … to hurt people."

"What king? Why would you need to hurt people?"

She turned her whole body away from him "This hunger is a burden, but this is the last time I swear, so please forgive." A rocky brown boat with two seats approached unannounced.

"Place him here," she said as she nimbly climbed in. The cobbler complied and looked upon her face bewildered. "Well I guess this is farewell," she said. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the man didn't want it to be farewell. He wanted to drop everything and join her on this mysterious journey up the river. This may have be his last chance to do something in his life, but instead he stood dumbly as she floated upriver. "The help was really appreciated," she hollered back. "You don't know how sore my back was from carrying all of those bodies." And so the man took his body back through the woods, back through the fields and to the wheel, an ever turning never moving metronome.