Hello everyone! I have gone and returned from my two year trip and I'd like to say how terribly sorry I am for dropping the story for a few more months than needed. I needed inspiration for the story, due to the way I presented the characters. I decided that I must start from scratch, and redo the story in such a way that I felt was more fitting and entertaining. A way to present very human like characters, and people we can possibly relate to. Now, if this seems a bit too different, I'm terribly sorry. In my opinion, I like the presentation in this setting because I feel it is a lot more... refined so to say. Regardless, I do hope you enjoy.

-Bumoo

Chapter One: Mistress Winter and The Devil

The cold was so bitter that one had to hope the coals of the fire would prevent frostbite inside one's home. A shining white blanketed the warm earth, and unlike all the winters that had come and gone, this one had teeth that bit ferociously into the skin, tugging and tearing one to go into a deep sleep known as death. She was as deadly as any blade, her teeth sinking into any victim that had the sad fate of being cast out from shelter or warmth and she held no exceptions. Her wrath a form of a kiss as the snow slowly fell to the ground clinging to everything that would come into contact, almost as if she was taunting the sun to try and do her away. She was a living nightmare, and few ventured into her domain. But a small assassin looked boldly into her, and entered into her bosom without a single hesitation; Her conviction burning hotter than any furnace.

" Damn that man."

She spat as she walked through the snow.

"Damn him forever in this torture I tolerate now."

The frost was almost unbearable, but she continued. Her hatred burned deep within her and it was much stronger than the cold. She had never truly met the man, for she heard of him in stories. Growing up she had grown to love him as she heard of his battles of glory on his holy crusade. He wiped away the infidels and crushed the false ones who stood in front of the path of righteousness. He obliterated bigotry in the site of the Goddesses. He had accomplished so much, and he was only a year older than she. It was more than eight years ago maybe. She had been twelve at the time, striving to become like him. To maybe meet him and to understand him. Yes, even to understand and know who he was and why. He was the great mystery that so few could call friend. He was the deep unknown that many had questions about. He was the great riddle of the world. A riddle that would snap and break, only to change form from being the perfect diamond to a lump of coal. He was perfect, was what she had thought until he showed his true colors and became the most deadly traitor in history. Aiding the enemy, sabotage, and betrayal to the crown to name a few. He faked his death, but rumor had it that he was alive and for that reason she had been paid to find him. But the assassin didn't need to believe that he was alive, for she knew it now. She had finally found him after months and months of searching.

" Damn him. Damn all he has done. Damn his posterity. Damn him…"

Seething in anger she pressed forward, clutching her knives close to her chest and gritting her teeth. The snow made soft crunching noises beneath her feet, and it was the only audible tone that could be heard for miles. Crunch… crunch… crunch... As she walked with every step she considered what she would do once she captured him. What indeed. Her mind focused on cutting his tendons near the ankles and forcing him to walk. Maybe make him drink boiling water till he puked. Maybe just simply leave him bare naked in the snow and let mistress winter have way with him until he could take it no longer. Pleading and begging for forgiveness. Begging, yes begging. That would do. Beg for his life and forgiveness of his past misdeeds. The corner of the assassin's mouth began to arc showing a set of small pearl white teeth. He was the cause of torment and of anger. Hope and betrayal. The perfect zen of madness and justice. She would be the one to strike him down with righteous anger. Nobody else. She had been waiting for this. To exact her revenge on a man who didn't even know her name. The man she had never met. The man who couldn't possibly know what had happened these past few years of bitter betrayal. He would soon find out that Sheik, the proud assassin of the shekiah would capture him alive, alive rather than dead. Who could imagine? She would hand deliver him to the queen with a ribbon on top, dragging him across the courtyard with all to watch in awe and admiration. Then he would suffer true agony in front of all his countrymen. Truly justice at its finest. "Tonight he will fall. I know it. I know it. He will, I'm sure of it." She tried convincing herself. She had now approached the camp that was just being set up, and today would be the day because it had to be the day. She could only survive so long in the winter without getting herself killed from the frost. She took out a knife from her collection and stared at the blade. This would be the knife. Damion she called him. He was with her since the beginning, even before the legend of the green clad hero. Even before her training as a shekiah. Yes, even before the fate of her father when he had died those many years ago. Damion was chosen because his strings of destiny were heavier than any other. He was the golden child, her baby. The green cladded hero was almost done setting up his camp. She was ready, he was not. Damion was dipped in the paralyzing poison and the steel became a faint yellow clashing with the metallic silver.

" Now is the time, it has to be now."

She muttered. Her breathing fastened, but her mind was as clear as crystal. Like lady winter herself had blessed Sheik to do her bidding. To take another life in this harsh domain, and forever claim another soul in this Goddess forsaken land. One week she had stalked him, he hadn't the slightest idea or notion that he was being watched. She had observed, taking in her opponent and she watched every little move. She knew his routine as well as he did. He would go fetch wood for the fire, hunt small game and proceed to set up camp. As dusk would come he would prepare the fire and cook his meal. That was the moment to strike. The moment he would begin to eat. In his sleep was preferred, but he slept with his sword. One false step, and he would kill her with the sword. But while he ate, the sword was kept a few feet away. Just enough to buy Sheik time to dig her knife in, and let the poison do its work. She crept onto the camp, where he had begun to eat, and she watched. She sat waiting like a cat ready to pounce.

"Shit,"

She heard him speak, his voice harsh like a rock.

"Where did I put the salt?"

He stood up and walked over to his pack that sat next to his tent and gingerly opened up the pack. Light as a feather she snuck up behind him, the snow didn't dare crunch beneath her feet as she came in closer. The anticipation was building up to its climax. Closer. She was ready for this and he was right in of her, she was going to catch her prey. Her mind ran so fast that she saw her life flashing in segments. She had held her breath, and her hand was now raised. She brought the knife down striking like lightning. She hit and the air escaped her lungs. She thought she would be happy, but the knife did not hit her intended target. She had hit his pack as Damion made a dull thud. Now, a hand had wrapped around her arm and the other around her neck with a small knife posed to slice her open and drain her blood out like a pig.

" Well small Shekiah, about damn time."

She coughed, and gasped for air. He knew this entire time that he was being watched. She had thought she had been unnoticed. She felt sweat crawl down her face in anxiety and began to think when he had known. Was it the moment she found him? Or was it just a few moments before? Impossible! So how did he know?

" Ho-"

Before she could finish the word, a knife pressed in her neck a little further, drawing a few drops of blood. She stopped and closed her mouth, the sweat slowly trickling down her face.

"Did I say you could speak?" He growled, his voice had changed and was as chilling as the air surrounding them. She began to feel herself become a lot smaller. His grip relaxed only a hair so that the knife didn't dig in anymore than it should. This allowed some breathing space and so she gave a deep breath and began to think. She needed to do escape, but how?

"Now. I will hear you speak, but only one worded responses, understood?"

Nervous, she sheepishly gave out her response with humiliation.

"Yes."

"Good, if you are a good girl. I'll let you live. Simple as that."

His voice changed drastically, and now it seemed to be a voice of a lullaby. It was unnatural, and unnerving. It was much worse than his growl and she could feel her spine tingle. She shuttered at his voice. He was indeed a monster.

"Now, if you choose not to cooperate, you will end up in a situation a lot more dire. I can count on it."

Desperate to find anything to escape, her eyes darted around the camp to find anything that would help her. A small ray of hope was bound to be found somewhere in the small camp.

"What is your name?"

"Sheik" She softly responded. He finally knew her name, but not in the situation she would have liked. How frustrating that was, but no matter. Her eyes searched frantically for anything. Anything at all to aid an escape but nothing stood out. Nothing at all.

"Very good. Now Sheik, I will tell you mine. I am Link, and it is very cordial of us to meet under these circumstances. Now. Who sent you?"

Impossible, she couldn't tell him. She would die first, but escape was always the first priority. Dying would have to wait. So she thought of a well fitting response.

"Death."

He laughed and laughed, and she could feel his grip tighten on her as she began to grasp for air once again. He was a mad man, and she felt ever so helpless. What could possibly save her? The camp's fire helped light the area, but there was nothing! The sword was too far away, and there was no hope she could grab it. Any false moves toward her knives or damion, and she would be gutted like a fish. Then what could help her?

"Death is a cruel mistress little shekiah, but she isn't here for me. The way I see it, she's sitting patiently across from you. Now, who sent you?"

Nothing could be seen! The glow of the fire had shown nothing. But wait, the fire! That was it! She positioned herself the best she could with her feet and gave her response.

"Hell." She immediately fell backwards into him with her body, catching him off guard. He lost his grip around her as he fell to the ground, trying to catch his fall only to land into the burning coals. He yelped and cursed as the flames began to lick at his clothes. She got up, and began to run. Running for her life, and the shame that followed.
"Damn him!"

She hissed. This was supposed to be her moment of justice, but he outdid her. She couldn't believe herself. She would never have an opportunity like this ever again. He was running right behind her and she could feel it. She only needed to outrun him, and an assassin like herself who packed light would easily beat him in this race. With his heavy gear, he would never catch up. This would be the only satisfaction she would get. The assassin who didn't die in that man's hands. She scowled and ran faster. What an awful title. Truly awful. Her train of thought was interrupted as a whistling pierced the air and pain began to fill her hamstring. She howled and fell to the ground. Immediately she began to pull at whatever object that had just cut into her right thigh. She pulled hard and screamed again as the object left her leg. She lifted up the object in her hand and froze. Not because she wanted to, but because the poison had entered into her body and circulated all over. In her hand she saw Damion, her beloved knife that would end that man's way of life, sitting coldly in her hand. She could feel Damion's betrayal in the cold steel, mocking her. What was worse was from the corner of her eye, she saw a man walk toward her. Out of breath and full of fury, she could feel Hell itself follow behind him.

"He is the devil… Damn him."

She groaned before he came up and began to drag her all the way back to his camp.

Thank you for your time you've dedicated to reading! I will present new chapters every Tuesday from here on out. It will give me time to write, and it will give everyone an idea how often I will update. For now, I hope all of you enjoyed the new story presentation as much as I do, and with that I ask that you offer a review. I would love to see what I need to do to improve my writing. For what is a good storyteller without a good critique or two? Thank you, and see you all next week!

-Bumoo